While scrolling through social media, I came across a video that was shocking and heart-wrenching. A young girl was on a bicycle with her little brother in the street when a man approached, grabbed her face, and abused her. It was all captured in CCTV footage: her fear, her confusion, and the moment when she clutched her brother’s hand and fled towards her home. That brief moment told so much: the stripping away of her safety, her dignity, and her confidence, all shattered in seconds by a stranger’s assault.
Not long after, another video surfaced. A little sister and brother had probably gone out to purchase sweets when a stranger assaulted the little girl. The fear was immediate. The girl wrapped her arms around her little brother, holding him tight, trying to protect him, even in her moment of trauma. That image haunted me. She was the victim, but she became a protective shield, consoling her brother through something she was too young to understand. At that instant, I realized how children in our society are conditioned to bear it, not because they should, but because they have no other choice.
Over time, I began to realize the gravity of such moments. When I was young, one of our cousins’ little friends was similarly assaulted; a man bit her cheek so severely it formed a clear scar. At that time, we laughed about it, not knowing what it meant. We were scolded by the elders for doing so, but no one explained to us what had happened.
As per Sahil, a leading child protection NGO, almost 2,000 cases of child abuse had been reported in Pakistan alone in the first half of 2025. The numbers are staggering: 1,956 total abuse cases, 950 cases of sexual abuse, 605 kidnappings, and 192 missing children. There were also 34 cases of child marriage or wani practice, where girls are given away to settle conflicts. Unfortunately, 62 newborns were abandoned or dead in different parts of the country.
Equally disturbing is the fact that in 49% of the incidents, the perpetrator was known to the child, a relative, neighbor, or friend. Only 22% involved strangers. Encouragingly, in 83% of cases, families did report the incidents to police, though 27 reports were registered and at least one outright rejected by authorities.
Another report by the Sustainable Social Development Organization (SSDO) in January 2025 revealed a 220% increase in child sexual abuse cases over the last five years, documenting 5,398 cases, an average of three per day. These aren’t just numbers. They are ruined lives, broken families, and innocent souls robbed of peace and childhood.
Sadly, the road to justice is riddled with obstacles. From the moment an FIR is registered to the point a case reaches court, delays and loopholes result in countless perpetrators being acquitted. The lengthy legal process discourages most families from even reporting, knowing that silence could be less painful than a failing system of justice.
Perhaps the most horrifying reminder of systemic failure is the Kasur child abuse scandal. Between 2006 and 2014, in Hussain Khanwala village, a criminal ring abused and videotaped as many as 280 to 300 boys. More than 400 videos were found, some being sold for just 50 rupees ($0.45). Families were blackmailed, silenced, and shamed. Later on, the Lahore High Court annulled the life imprisonment of three convicted men, Aleem, Waseem, and Haseem, and accepted their appeals. The victims continue to wait for justice, their trauma unresolved.
Closer to home, I remember a heartbreaking case from our neighborhood. A little boy, the neighbor’s grandson, went to complain at a nearby cable shop because their TV connection wasn’t working. The shop owner wasn’t there; his male relative was. That fellow abducted and raped the boy. When the child returned home, wounded and traumatized, the police arrived. But due to social stigma and fear of shame, the family chose not to pursue the case. They stay silent. They didn’t even discuss it with anyone. Like so many others, they let it disappear.
This is how justice dies, not only in courts, but at home, in whispers, in silence. When families are too afraid to speak, when society turns away, and when the system is too broken to care, the child is left alone: Vulnerable. And Voiceless.