Poetry, Power & Humanity—IV Bulleh Shah: Be…

By  Engr. Saqlain Abid tarrar Political Commentator | MS Power Engineering | NFPA-Certified Electrical Engine President Donald Trump, addressing a public rally, reportedly announced that the United States would soon “free” the Strait of Hormuz from what he described as Iranian captivity and suggested that it could effectively become American territory. The rhetoric immediately evokes his earlier statements about acquiring Greenland. But Hormuz is not Greenland. It is a strategic maritime chokepoint whose international legal status, geography and military consequences make any attempt to seize or control it an entirely different proposition. The question is whether Trump is merely bargaining through maximum pressure—or preparing the political ground for a ground invasion of Iran. Several geopolitical analysts, including a Chinese professor and commentator who has repeatedly warned that Trump could eventually choose ground intervention, now see such a possibility as increasingly rational from Washington’s perspective, even if strategically dangerous. The political clock is also ticking. With the US midterm elections approaching in November, a weak Republican performance could cost Trump control of the House. Having already signed the June 17 MoU, while Iran appears to have rejected or resisted key conditions, Trump may calculate that allowing Tehran to emerge claiming victory would carry a domestic political price. Yet this is precisely where strategic calculation can become strategic miscalculation. The Netanyahu government has also indicated that Israel could continue fighting even if Washington decides to stop. That creates an uncomfortable dilemma for Washington. The initial air campaign apparently exposed serious questions about the assumptions behind the war. If American planners underestimated Iran’s endurance, missile inventory and drone-interceptor economics, the conflict could become dramatically more expensive than anticipated. Even senior American military voices have reportedly debated whether continuing the war is necessary for credibility and deterrence. The USS Abraham Lincoln’s prolonged deployment, alongside reports of severe psychological strain among personnel, illustrates another hidden price of extended warfare. Meanwhile, Washington faces the enormous projected cost of the Golden Dome missile-defence programme, potentially requiring resources approaching $1.5 trillion. The central question is therefore simple: can America afford another open-ended adventure when it already needs enormous resources to compete with China and Russia? Iran, meanwhile, appears to be raising the price of any settlement. Its reported demands include lifting the naval blockade so that it can sell oil and gas freely, withdrawal of American forces from West Asia, release of roughly $12 billion in frozen or seized assets, an end to Israeli attacks on Yemen and Hezbollah, and substantial war reparations. Reports of command changes within the IRGC, including the appointment of hard-line figures, suggest that Tehran wants to signal a transition from a purely defensive posture towards greater offensive preparedness. Iran has also kept some capabilities, including submarines, underwater drones and long-range missile systems, relatively restrained. Whether all these claims are accurate or not, the message is unmistakable: Tehran wants Washington to understand that the next round could be more costly. The third actor is the Gulf. Saudi Arabia, under Mohammed bin Salman, has powerful economic reasons to prevent another escalation. A major American-Iranian war could threaten Saudi infrastructure, Vision 2030 projects and the enormous investments being built around them. Riyadh therefore has an incentive to use its relationship with Trump to discourage another military adventure. The UAE has likewise pursued back-channel diplomacy aimed at reducing the risk of Iranian retaliation. For the Gulf monarchies, the lesson is increasingly clear: money, investment and economic stability are more valuable than ideological confrontation. They may cooperate with Washington, but they do not want to become the battlefield. Pakistan has an opportunity—and a responsibility. With Iranian officials, including Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf and Abbas Araghchi, expected to engage Islamabad again, Pakistan can provide a diplomatic channel between Tehran, Washington and the Gulf. The visit should not be treated merely as ceremonial diplomacy. Islamabad should push for a ceasefire mechanism, maritime de-escalation, protection of Gulf shipping, and a negotiated framework for American and Iranian security concerns. Trump now faces a historic choice: a safe exit that preserves American power, or another costly adventure that could transform Hormuz into the graveyard of his political calculations. Controlling the Strait by force is not the same as controlling the consequences. The real test of “America First” is knowing when not to fight.

A few years back, the 18th Amendment was introduced with the promise that devolution of power is necessary to solve the people’s problems. It was necessary to empower people and bring resources to the ground level to positively impact their lives. The devolution of power was promised through the establishment of strong local governments.    However, devolution stalled at the provincial level.  Provincial governments refused to grant the promised autonomy to local governments. Moreover, local governments do not have financial autonomy at all, which is a prerequisite to empower them. For example, political parties at the provincial level use it to get maximum financial resources and autonomy, but refuse to devolve it to local governments.  Therefore, instead of benefiting people and the country, it has added to problems. Now, it is on the verge of collapse. Many voices ask to roll back the 18th Amendment, and they are justified.     Now the debate has started about creating new provinces, and the size of provinces is portrayed as a problem, as devolution of power and local governments were portrayed before the 18th Amendment. However, before creating new provinces, there is a need to learn from the failure of the 18th Amendment. It is necessary to analyze the reasons for the failure of the 18th Amendment. There can be many reasons, but the most prominent ones were governance and political culture. Thus, there is a need to first understand these before venturing into creating new provinces.    What is governance? There are different ways to define governance, but for me, “governance is an art and a science for satisfying people’s needs, building institutions to protect their interests and life, and keeping people’s aspirations or dreams alive. Governance is a basic ingredient of state-building and sustaining it; rather, it shoulders the existence of the state. Why? Because it ensures justice and social justice, provides security, and protects people from injustice and security threats. It holds true from ancient times to modern statehood. Hence, it is used to measure a country’s success and failure.    Over time, humans have developed different models of governance. In modern history, there are three prominent models: Western, socialist, and empathy-based (Islamic) models. The Western model, based on Liberal democracy, prefers democratic governance, which hinges on elections and accountability. It works through the slogan “government of the people, by the people, and for the people.” Unfortunately, over time, this slogan and accountability began to weaken, and elections alone remain the main component. Moreover, manipulation of the election process and the use of money further weaken the system, as marginalized people get pushed out of the system. Popular slogans, identity, ethnicity, and hate become the driving force.      The socialist model is based on the slogan of people-centric governance and the whole-process people’s democracy. People-centric governance means all policies and actions must be people-oriented, and outcomes must serve the people and bring positive change in their lives. The whole process of people’s democracy means that the interaction between the state and the people is continuous, not just at election time. Moreover, the merit and character of governance actors are determining factors to ensure people-centric governance. This model was invented in China and is practiced there, where it has achieved remarkable success.     The Islamic model hinges on three fundamental pillars: empathy, people, and accountability, in accordance with Sharia law. Empathy and people must be the focus of all policies and actions at all levels. People’s say must matter at all levels. Accountability must be ensured at all levels, without any discrimination. Famous incidents of Hazarat Umer (RA) and Hazarat Ali provide the true essence of accountability and governance. Lastly, the actors of governance must have the highest virtuous character and should not engage in any form of prejudiced behavior. Unfortunately, it is not practiced anywhere in the contemporary world.       From the above comparison, it can be inferred that despite differences in philosophy and actions, the goal of each model remains the same: to serve the people. Serving the people is the key to sustaining power and the state.    Unfortunately, Pakistan does not follow any of these models. Pakistan has its own style of governance, which is a mix of everything, and we cannot say exactly what it is. However, the most prominent features of our governance are relationship-based networks, misuse of power, and a money- and power-driven system. The system is devised through complicated webs of laws, rules, and requirements. It makes the system prone to corruption and rent-seeking behavior, exclusiveness, and clubs of interest groups, which have become common elements. The system operates through money in exchange for favors, business deals, or power and influence, and is facilitated by relationship-based networks.    It has given rise to a new type of governance model: elusive governance. There is no systematic way to plan and execute the plans. Plans are being made for short-term gains, not with proper planning or a futuristic approach. Haphazardness has become the most prominent feature of governance. People and people’s interests are largely missing. Let’s try to understand it with an example from Islamabad, the seat of government.    A few years ago, the Pakistani government initiated the Safe City program. The government spent billions of rupees to complete the Safe City program. It was sold as a program to secure the people. After that, a new government came to power and initiated the construction of signal-free corridors by building underpasses and flyovers. The government again spent billions of rupees to build the signal-free corridors. People were told it was being done to serve them by facilitating mobility. The process is still going on.     After spending hundreds of billions on the Safe City program and signal-free corridors, the government one day decided to install check posts at major points. The installation of check posts severely disrupts traffic flow and puts the lives of hundreds of people at risk across the city every day. Now, a common-sense question is: why do governments spend

By Kinza Fatima On 19 August 2021, seven-year-old Priya Kumari disappeared from a shrine in Sindh. Years later, her family is still waiting for answers. Her disappearance became more than a missing-person case; it became a painful reminder of how easily a child’s sense of safety can disappear. Every time another child is harmed, exploited, or neglected, Pakistan is reminded that protecting childhood remains an unfinished responsibility. Every child deserves to wake up with a sense of safety. Childhood should be filled with learning, laughter, curiosity, and play—not fear, uncertainty, or loss. Yet for far too many children in Pakistan, these simple expectations remain fragile. The disappearance of Priya Kumari in Sindh in 2021 remains one of the country’s most painful incident of how vulnerable children can be. Years have passed, but her family continues to wait for answers. Beyond the legal questions lies a deeper human one: what does it say about a society when a child can disappear and hope becomes the only thing left behind? Safety is not threatened only by crime. It is also undermined by neglect. Tragic incidents involving collapsing school buildings and unsafe infrastructure have claimed the lives of children whose only purpose that day was to learn. A classroom should nurture dreams, not become a place of tragedy. Safe buildings, clean classrooms, access to drinking water, and basic emergency measures are not luxuries—they are the minimum conditions every child deserves. Extreme heat presents another challenge. Across Pakistan, rising temperatures have turned many classrooms into difficult places for learning. Schools without fans, proper ventilation, or clean drinking water place children at risk of dehydration, exhaustion, and heat-related illness. Education cannot flourish where basic physical well-being is ignored. A healthy childhood extends beyond the classroom. Children need parks, playgrounds, libraries, and public spaces where they can grow socially and emotionally. In many communities, these spaces are absent or unsafe. When children spend their lives confined indoors because the outside world feels dangerous, society loses more than recreation—it loses opportunities for confidence, creativity, and community. We often repeat that children are the future of the nation. Yet such words have little meaning unless they are reflected in public policy and everyday behaviour. The measure of a society is not found in the promises it makes to children, but in the conditions in which it asks them to grow. As a child myself, my dreams are not extraordinary. I want to wear my school uniform without fear, learn with my classmates, drink clean water, play in safe parks, and believe that tomorrow can be better than today. These are not unrealistic hopes; they are fundamental rights. Children also deserve protection within their own homes. For many, however, home is not always a place of security. Physical punishment, verbal humiliation, and emotional neglect leave wounds that are often invisible but long-lasting. Violence against children, whether physical or psychological, cannot be accepted as discipline. Respect and care build stronger individuals than fear ever can. Child labour remains another painful reality. Instead of carrying schoolbags, thousands of children carry bricks, tools, and heavy loads. Poverty pushes many families into impossible choices, but the burden should never fall on the child. Governments must strengthen social protection, expand access to quality education, and support vulnerable families so that children are not forced to sacrifice their childhood for survival. Ending child labour is not solely the responsibility of the state; it also requires the commitment of parents, employers, schools, and society as a whole. Children also deserve dignity wherever they seek knowledge. Allegations of abuse in educational institutions, including some madrasas and schools, remind us that no place of learning should become a place of fear. Every institution entrusted with children carries a moral and legal responsibility to protect them. When I see children my own age struggling with violence, poverty, exploitation, or neglect, I do not simply feel sympathy—I wonder why childhood is experienced so differently depending on where one is born or how much one’s family earns. No child chooses these circumstances, yet many live with their consequences every day. The children of Pakistan are not asking for extraordinary privileges. We ask for what every child should receive: safety, education, dignity, health, and the freedom to dream. We need teachers who inspire rather than humiliate, communities that protect rather than ignore, and institutions that place the well-being of children above everything else. Children are not a source of cheap labour, nor are they objects upon which adults can release their anger. We are learners, dreamers, citizens in the making, and the future of this country. A safe childhood is not an act of charity. It is a constitutional, moral, and human obligation. If Pakistan wishes to build a stronger future, it must begin by listening to the voices of its children—and by ensuring that every child has not only the right to dream, but also the opportunity to live those dreams. The writer is a children’s right Advocate and student of Tenth Grade.

By Engr. Saqlain Abid Pakistan’s diplomatic position appears to be entering one of its most delicate phases in recent years. What initially seemed to be a conflict limited to the United States and Iran is gradually expanding into a broader regional confrontation, forcing many states to reconsider their strategic choices. After six consecutive days of American bombing inside Iran and the continued military response by the Houthis against Saudi Arabia, Pakistan may find itself moving from the role of mediator toward that of a potential participant in a wider regional security framework. For months, Islamabad attempted to maintain balanced relations with all major actors. Pakistan consistently called for restraint, dialogue, and reconciliation while avoiding direct involvement in the conflict. However, regional defence commitments and strategic partnerships may eventually place Islamabad under increasing pressure. If Saudi Arabia invokes defence cooperation against Houthi attacks, Pakistan could face difficult decisions regarding its military and diplomatic responsibilities. Since the Houthis are widely regarded as being closely aligned with Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), any Pakistani military involvement against them would inevitably carry implications for Pakistan-Iran relations. Such a development would represent more than another military confrontation. It would symbolise the further fragmentation of the Muslim world. If Pakistan, another major Muslim state, enters a conflict involving an Iranian proxy, one must ask whether any meaningful concept of Muslim strategic unity ever truly existed. The divisions that have surfaced during recent crises suggest that political interests, national security calculations, and regional rivalries continue to outweigh religious solidarity. Recent diplomatic developments have also raised important questions. Turkey’s growing regional activism and President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s visible engagement alongside President Donald Trump during last week’s summit have been interpreted by many observers as a signal that regional alliances are evolving. Simultaneously, Iran appears to be facing mounting economic constraints, prolonged sanctions, and increasing diplomatic isolation. The question naturally arises: what strategic options remain available to Tehran? Iran still possesses considerable leverage despite its economic difficulties. The Strait of Hormuz remains one of the world’s most critical energy chokepoints, while the Houthis retain the capability to disrupt maritime traffic through the Bab-el-Mandeb Strait. Any prolonged disruption in either corridor would significantly affect global energy markets, increasing oil prices and creating severe economic pressure on Europe and the wider international community. These maritime realities provide Iran with strategic leverage even while under military and economic pressure. This changing environment also raises another possibility. Washington may be attempting to reshape its regional security architecture. The Gulf monarchies, particularly Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, have invested enormous financial resources over the past decade in regional security arrangements. Yet repeated conflicts have exposed limitations in those frameworks. If confidence in the existing Gulf-centred order continues to weaken, the United States may increasingly look toward countries such as Turkey and Pakistan as more active regional security partners. Pakistan’s strategic importance cannot be ignored. It possesses one of the world’s largest armed forces, nuclear capability, extensive counterterrorism experience, and a unique ability to maintain dialogue with competing regional actors. Together with Turkey, Pakistan could potentially contribute to a new regional security framework. Recent praise directed toward both President Erdoğan and Pakistan’s Chief of Army Staff, Field Marshal Asim Munir, by President Trump has naturally generated speculation regarding future strategic cooperation, although such interpretations remain speculative and should be approached with caution. Nevertheless, Pakistan must carefully evaluate the costs of any deeper military commitment. A defence partnership should never be viewed as a one-sided obligation. If Pakistan were expected to support Saudi Arabia during a regional conflict, an equally important question deserves attention: would Saudi Arabia provide similar military support if Pakistan faced aggression elsewhere, particularly from India? The answer remains uncertain. Defence agreements are strongest when obligations, expectations, and strategic interests are genuinely reciprocal. Pakistan’s greatest contribution may not lie on the battlefield but at the negotiating table. Rather than becoming another participant in an expanding regional war, Islamabad should utilise its diplomatic credibility to encourage a new regional dialogue. Any future Muslim security architecture should emerge through regional consensus, not through external approval or great-power competition. Iran has demonstrated that it remains an influential regional actor whose interests cannot simply be ignored. Sustainable peace will require engagement with Tehran rather than permanent confrontation. Ultimately, Pakistan stands at a strategic crossroads. It can either become another member of an expanding war coalition or position itself as a credible architect of a new regional order built upon diplomacy, mutual security, and South Asian consensus. In an era where wars are becoming increasingly costly and alliances increasingly fragile, Pakistan’s greatest strength may be its ability to build bridges rather than battle lines.

​To diagnose the profound structural, intellectual, and economic stagnation gripping contemporary Pakistani society, one cannot analyze it merely through the lens of conventional lamentation or superficial moralizing. This pervasive crisis of the state and society is not the byproduct of a sudden natural calamity, but rather the logical culmination of a long-standing political economy where the unequal distribution of state resources, flawed policymaking mechanisms, and elite capture have systematically closed off all avenues for collective intellect. The devastating budget cuts inflicted on the social sector—specifically education, healthcare, and research institutions—under the relentless guise of International Monetary Fund (IMF) bailout packages and structural adjustment have compounded this crisis. When foundational pillars of a state are subordinated to personal self-interest, temporary political loyalties, and non-productive extravagances instead of fostering a productive economy, a leadership crisis ceases to be an accidental anomaly and entrenches itself as a permanent, systemic reality. The roots of this historical tragedy undeniably lie in the colonial state apparatus engineered by the British Empire to secure its subjugation over this region; yet the tragic reality is that post-independence, the domestic elite simply stepped into the shoes of the white master, retaining this exploitative machinery intact while refining it to serve their own interests. ​A hard look at ground realities and economic indicators reveals a deeply alarming landscape. The state’s warped priorities are laid bare in the fact that the lion’s share of federal and provincial budgets is routinely swallowed by debt servicing, non-productive administrative and defense expenditures, and lavish exemptions for the privileged class. Conversely, human capital development—education, scientific research, and health—languishes at the very bottom of the national agenda, treated as an unwelcome afterthought. Data from the World Bank and UNESCO confirm that Pakistan allocates a mere 0.2 to 0.3 percent of its Gross Domestic Product (GDP) to Research and Development (R&D), whereas dynamic economies like South Korea invest upwards of 4.8 percent and Israel surpasses 5 percent. This truncated, abysmally low allocation compared to regional peers is a damning indictment. When a nation’s educational budget is starved, and university leadership is appointed through political patronage, personal recommendations, and favoritism rather than merit, vision, and academic pedigree, the system ceases to radiate light, breeding instead sycophancy, boot-licking, and intellectual sterility. Such a decayed framework might churn out compliant manual laborers and clerical cogs for offices, but it will never produce a conscious citizen or independent critic courageous enough to question flawed state policies. ​The most agonizing casualty of this policy paralysis is the relentless brain drain—the systematic migration of our brightest minds abroad. Immigration bureaus and professional research data confirm that Pakistan’s finest intellects—top-tier engineers, specialized surgeons and physicians, global IT experts, scientists, and dedicated researchers—are abandoning their homeland in droves for Europe, North America, and the Gulf states. The state has never paused to calculate the immense national cost of educating and training a youth only to witness that capital, and the future it represents, vanish across borders. When policymakers trample over merit to appease political cronies, the meritocratic class finds itself fighting a losing battle for sheer survival. This is not mere emigration; it is the intellectual execution of an entire generation, sacrificed at the altar of incompetent governance. Nations like Singapore, Malaysia, and South Korea reached a historic crossroads where they discarded empty political rhetoric in favor of rigid meritocracy, transparent governance, and rigorous education, whereas our polity cultivated a culture that treats politics as a lucrative enterprise and the state as spoils of war. The dividends of that mindset surround us today. ​Another compounding driver of this societal decline and intellectual regression is the entrenched feudal and imperial character of our state structure, which bars the common human and ordinary citizen from accessing basic constitutional and human rights. In a stratified society where the rule of law is selectively enforced against the weak while endless judicial backdoors remain open for the powerful, justice becomes an elusive mirage. The ordinary citizen must endure decades of legal labyrinths just to secure elementary justice, while the resource-hoarding elite exploit every legislative loophole to remain above the law. This glaring injustice has bred an overwhelming sense of alienation, systemic frustration, and moral decay. When the younger generation observes that honesty, hard work, and integrity hold zero currency in this system, and that influence, corruption, cronyism, and deception are the lone keys to advancement, the moral fabric of society shatters. This ethical erosion metastasizes into a national malignancy when state patronage actively paralyzes intellectual spaces and universities, stifling critical discourse and strangling freedom of thought. ​Escaping this deep quagmire and resolving the crisis of leadership requires courageous structural reforms. First and foremost, the state must fundamentally overhaul its national priorities, elevating scientific self-reliance, research autonomy, and intellectual sovereignty to the core of national security alongside physical defense. Pushing the cumulative budget for education, science, and research to a minimum of four percent of GDP without delay is non-negotiable if we harbor any genuine ambitions of building a knowledge economy. Second, purging public administration, the civil bureaucracy, and state enterprises of political interference while establishing the ironclad supremacy of merit is paramount to ensure decision-making is driven solely by professional capability. We must transition away from traditional public service delivery by handing policy formulation over to empowered task forces composed of domestic and international technocrats. Concurrently, genuine autonomy must be restored to the Higher Education Commission (HEC), backed by stringent constitutional safeguards against political appointments in academia. To stanch the bleeding of brain drain and transform it into a “brain gain,” the state must proactively craft an attractive, enabling ecosystem that leverages the capital and expertise of the overseas Pakistani diaspora through modern remote research initiatives. ​True, visionary leadership rises above the hollow temptation of cheap, temporary popularity to lay enduring foundations for generations unborn. Until those occupying our corridors of power step outside the narrow confines of personal, familial, and factional self-interest, and until society sheds emotional sloganeering in favor of scientific, logical, and critical inquiry, the vicious

Pakistan has entered a crucial phase in its constitutional and administrative journey. With a population exceeding 250 million, the governance model that served the country decades ago is increasingly being questioned. Recent public discussions, including remarks by Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi advocating a debate on administrative reforms in light of Pakistan’s growing population, have reignited an important national conversation: Is it time to rethink how Pakistan is governed? In my view, the answer is yes. The real challenge is not simply whether Pakistan should create more provinces. The real challenge is how governance can be brought closer to the people. A modern state cannot be effectively administered through excessive centralization when its population, economy, and urban centers have expanded dramatically over the past several decades. The first and most important reform should be the empowerment of local governments. District administrations, metropolitan authorities, and municipal governments should be given genuine constitutional authority, financial autonomy, and administrative independence. Citizens interact with government primarily through local institutions. Therefore, healthcare, education, sanitation, water supply, transport, municipal planning, and public safety should be managed by empowered local governments rather than through an overly centralized administrative structure. Karachi represents the strongest example of why governance reform has become a necessity rather than a choice. As Pakistan’s largest city and economic engine, Karachi deserves a governance model specifically designed for a modern global megacity. Despite its enormous contribution to the national economy, the city continues to face serious challenges in urban planning, infrastructure, traffic management, public transport, water supply, waste management, and municipal administration. In my opinion, simply placing Karachi under direct federal control would not automatically solve these problems. The federal government already carries enormous national responsibilities, and transferring administrative authority without structural reforms may simply relocate existing governance challenges. Instead, Karachi requires a metropolitan governance model comparable to internationally recognized cities such as New York, where professional city administration, clearly defined institutional responsibilities, strong municipal leadership, effective policing coordination, urban planning, and financial autonomy work together under a comprehensive metropolitan framework. Such a model could improve service delivery while ensuring greater accountability and long-term planning. Governance reform should not stop at strengthening local governments. Pakistan should also seriously consider creating additional provinces wherever there is genuine administrative need, broad public consultation, and constitutional consensus. Smaller provinces can improve administrative efficiency, strengthen regional representation, and make governments more responsive to local communities. More representative provincial structures can also help ensure that the concerns of both urban and rural populations receive greater attention at the national level. Equally important is the devolution of administrative authority to districts and local institutions. Excessive concentration of political and administrative power often limits opportunities for ordinary citizens to influence decisions that directly affect their lives. A stronger local government system would enable communities to participate more effectively in governance while improving transparency, accountability, and public service delivery. This debate should never be viewed as an attempt to weaken Sindh or divide its people. On the contrary, I believe these reforms would strengthen Sindh by ensuring that development and decision-making reach every corner of the province. Whether someone lives in Kandhkot, Larkana, Mithi, Islamkot, Mirpurkhas, Badin, Hyderabad, Thatta, or Karachi, every citizen deserves equal access to quality healthcare, education, infrastructure, clean drinking water, municipal services, and economic opportunities. An equally important aspect of this reform process is public awareness and civic education. Pakistan needs a network of credible academics, constitutional experts, economists, retired civil servants, educationists, and respected members of civil society who can engage directly with communities across Sindh, particularly in rural and underserved areas where access to balanced political information may be limited. Their role should be to explain, in Sindhi and other local languages, the constitutional, administrative, and economic implications of decentralization, stronger local governments, and, where appropriate, the creation of additional provinces. Many citizens hear conflicting political narratives about these proposals. In my view, people should be encouraged to evaluate reforms on the basis of evidence, administrative efficiency, and public welfare rather than fear or political rhetoric. If these reforms genuinely improve representation, accountability, and service delivery, they should be supported regardless of political interests. Ultimately, the objective should not be to benefit any political party but to empower every citizen and ensure that governance serves the people instead of entrenched centers of power. Unfortunately, discussions about administrative reform are often overshadowed by political narratives that generate fear and misunderstanding. In my opinion, governance reforms should be evaluated on their administrative merits rather than through the lens of partisan politics. Citizens should be encouraged to examine whether decentralisation would improve their quality of life instead of viewing every proposal as a political contest. Meaningful reform also requires strengthening independent institutions, ensuring merit-based appointments, improving accountability, and modernising public administration. Whether Pakistan ultimately retains its parliamentary system or chooses another constitutional framework, lasting success will depend upon transparent institutions, professional governance, and effective local administration. Pakistan’s future does not depend merely on drawing new boundaries on a map. It depends upon building a governance system that places citizens—not bureaucracy or political centralization, at the center of public administration. Strong local governments, empowered districts, efficient metropolitan administrations, and, where constitutionally appropriate, additional provinces can together create a stronger federation, a more prosperous Sindh, and a better future for every Pakistani. A prosperous Pakistan will be built not through the concentration of power, but through the fair and effective distribution of power to the people.