ANOTHER child. Another body. Another family torn apart. Seven-year-old Sarim left home for his madrassah on January 7, just like any other day. He never returned. His parents searched desperately, but for eleven days, there was no trace. On January 18, his lifeless body was discovered in the underground water tank of the very apartment complex where he lived – raped, tortured and strangled. Initial police investigation speculated that he had fallen by accident. However, The post-mortem report shattered that claim, with forensic evidence confirming sexual abuse. This horror is too vast to fully comprehend, yet it is a reality we know all too well. Pakistan has always been a dangerous place for children.
According to Sahil Org, 5 to 6 children are sexually abused in Pakistan every day—a horrifying reality that remains vastly underreported. Yet, each time, we react with shock. We clutch our chests, shake our heads and vent our outrage on social media. Then, we move on. But Sarim’s family cannot. Will this case be any different? Or will it, like so many others, fade away? Will Sarim’s parents be forced into silence like the hundreds of families before them? Just like the many cases that get swept under the rug in the name of honour.
Our state, media and people are obsessed with Trump and his speech, while Sarim’s case remains buried in the noise. Why isn’t his face on every front page? Why isn’t his story dominating prime-time slots? A week from now, most will barely remember his name. This is the extent of our collective indifference. We have laws. The Child-Rights, Care and Protection Act, 2016. Amendments in the Pakistan Penal Code. Judicial rulings that reinforce the incapacity of minors to consent, that emphasize forensic evidence, that demand child-friendly legal procedures.
But laws on paper mean nothing when justice is a privilege, not a guarantee. Investigators fail to secure evidence every single time. Cases collapse. Predators walk free. In this case, police have taken multiple suspects into custody as of now, but no arrests have been made.
Investigators are still awaiting DNA test results, raising concerns about whether justice will be swift or stalled. Sarim’s body tells us everything we need to know. His broken neck. The wounds carved into his skin. The forensic report confirming our worst fears. He was taken. He was violated and was killed. And yet, the police hesitate. The DIG offers vague reassurances, stalling behind bureaucratic smokescreens. The media covers it as just another crime report. But this is not just another crime. This should be a national emergency. And we cannot let it fade into silence.
What does justice even look like? It means swift investigations, indisputable forensic evidence and police officers trained to handle child abuse cases. It means special courts that protect child victims and a system that refuses to let these cases fade away. Justice also means dismantling the culture of victim-blaming. In cases of rape, when the victim is a woman, society questions her clothes, choices and whereabouts. But Sarim—a seven-year-old boy? Can they make any excuse for this one?
We cannot afford another Zainab. Another Sarim. Another nameless child buried before they even had a chance to live. If the State will not declare an emergency on this, then what exactly is it waiting for? A number higher than 6 children a day? A crime more horrific than what has already happened? The truth is, we already know what the answer will be. We just don’t want to say it out loud.
—The author is a graduate of LUMS & founder of a child rights organization named Muhafiz in district Malakand, KP.
(babarzk26@gmail.com)
