We have been waiting outside since morning but they have no mercy
In the district of Larkana, two stories unfolded in the same week that together trace the contours of a persistent and painful reality: young girls seeking safety from the very households meant to shelter them. One case placed the state in the role of potential protector against family coercion; the other demanded it act as investigator of family violence. Both ask the same quiet, urgent question — when the danger lives inside the home, where does a girl turn, and who is truly listening?
- Two teenage girls walked into a police station seeking refuge from forced marriage, triggering an immediate standoff with relatives who gathered outside demanding their return.
- A 14-year-old was sexually assaulted by her own brother while she slept — a violation so close to home that safety itself becomes a hollow word.
- Family members accused police officers of pressuring the girls and blocking contact, turning the station into a contested space between protection and suspicion.
- The brother was arrested and remanded to custody, while the girls were set to appear before a court — both cases now hinging on whether institutions will hold.
- Taken together, these simultaneous incidents expose the fragile and inconsistent reach of child protection laws in rural Sindh, where enforcement remains uncertain and vulnerability runs deep.
On a Sunday morning in Larkana, two teenage girls — Sakina and Fazeela, both from Ghulam Hussain Butt village in Dokri taluka — walked into the Airport police station and refused to go home. They told officers they were being pushed toward forced marriage by relatives, and police transferred them to the Women police station for safekeeping.
Their families arrived soon after, gathering outside in protest. Relatives including Fareeda and Shamshad Khatoon Solangi said the girls had simply attended a circumcision ceremony before disappearing into police custody. They were denied entry and accused the officers of pressuring the girls and cutting off family contact. "We have been waiting since morning and they have no mercy," the protesters said, calling for the officers' removal. Authorities announced the girls would be produced before a court the following day — leaving the case suspended between two competing truths: the girls' claim of coercion, and the family's claim of unlawful detention.
Elsewhere in the same district that same week, a 14-year-old girl named Reema was sexually assaulted by her brother, Amin, while she slept in her family home in Luhar Colony. Her mother heard her crying, confronted her son, and he fled before police arrived. Officers collected evidence, arrested him, and took Reema to Chandka Medical College Hospital for examination. Her mother filed a formal complaint under Section 376 of Pakistan's Penal Code and appealed for exemplary punishment. A court remanded Amin to police custody for three days.
The two cases, unfolding simultaneously in Larkana, illuminate the precarious position of girls in rural Sindh — and the unresolved question of whether the laws meant to protect them are applied with any real consistency when the threat comes from within the family itself.
In Larkana, a district in Sindh province, two teenage girls walked into the Airport police station on a Sunday morning seeking refuge from their own families. Sakina, daughter of Bahawal Solangi, and Fazeela, daughter of Munwar Ali Solangi, both residents of Ghulam Hussain Butt village in Dokri taluka, had fled their homes after relatives began pressing them toward forced marriage. They told officers they would not return home, and police transferred them to the Women police station for safekeeping.
The girls' relatives soon gathered outside the station. According to the family's account, the two had attended a circumcision ceremony at a relative's house—a routine family gathering—before disappearing into the police station. Fareeda, Shamshad Khatoon Solangi, and others staged a protest outside, demanding to see the girls. They were turned away. The family accused the station officers—Liaquat Khajar at Airport police and Rahmat Abbasi at the Women station—of pressuring the girls and preventing contact with relatives. "We have been waiting outside the police station since morning but they have no mercy," the protesters said, calling for the officers' removal and punishment.
The Women police station authorities announced the girls would be produced before a court on Monday. The case sits in the space between two competing claims: the girls' assertion that they face coercion, and the family's insistence that the girls are being held against their will by police.
The same week, a separate case exposed a different kind of vulnerability. In Luhar Colony, within the Hyderi police station's jurisdiction, a 14-year-old girl named Reema was sexually assaulted by her own brother, Amin, while she slept in her family home. Her mother, Majeedan Khatoon Korejo, heard her daughter crying and confronted her son, but he fled before police arrived. Officers collected evidence and arrested him. The girl was taken to Chandka Medical College Hospital for examination. Her mother filed a formal complaint under Section 376 of Pakistan's Penal Code—the statute covering rape—and appealed to senior police officials for "exemplary punishment" of her son. A court remanded Amin to police custody for three days of investigation.
These two cases, unfolding simultaneously in the same district, illustrate the precarious position of young women and girls in rural Sindh. One involves the state as potential protector against family coercion; the other involves the state as investigator of family violence. Both raise questions about enforcement, about whether laws against forced marriage and sexual assault are applied with consistency, and about what protection actually means when the threat originates inside the home.
Citas Notables
Their relatives wanted to marry them forcibly, which is why they came out of their homes and reached the police station for protection— Sakina and Fazeela, the two girls seeking protection
Her daughter was asleep at home when her son sexually assaulted her forcibly, and when she started crying, she asked him to refrain but he fled— Majeedan Khatoon Korejo, mother of the 14-year-old victim
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why did these girls go to the police station in the first place? Was it planned, or did something happen at that ceremony?
The reporting doesn't say. They attended a circumcision ceremony—a normal family event—and then appeared at the police station. Whether they planned it beforehand or made a sudden decision is unclear. What matters is that they felt trapped enough to leave.
And the family says the police are holding them against their will. Do we know what the girls actually want?
The girls told media they didn't want to go home. That's their stated position. But they're also in police custody, which is its own kind of confinement. The family can't see them. It's not a simple rescue story.
What about the brother who assaulted his sister? How does that case differ?
In that case, the mother witnessed the assault and called police immediately. There's a clear victim, a clear perpetrator, evidence collected. The brother is in custody awaiting investigation. It's more straightforward legally, though no less devastating for the family.
Do these cases suggest a pattern in Larkana?
The reporting doesn't establish a pattern—these are two separate incidents in the same week. But together they show that girls in this region face threats from multiple directions: forced marriage from relatives, sexual violence from family members. And the police response varies depending on the case.
What happens to the two girls now?
They're scheduled to appear in court. The court will decide whether to grant them protection, send them home, or place them elsewhere. That's where the real outcome will be determined.