Will our street children ever be safe?

No child is safe anywhere in our country. The students at Milestone School in Uttara are the latest example of that. 

But what about the children growing up on the streets of the country, most of whom are not guaranteed three meals a day, a roof over their heads, or even clothes to wear, who spend every day living in shacks at railway stations, bus stands, open spaces, or roadsides, living with malnutrition, illiteracy, and violence? How much do we really think about them?

Hundreds of street children in Dhaka and its surrounding areas are subjected to various forms of violence and abuse every day. Research shows that only 27% of these children know their parents. Physical, mental and sexual abuse seem to have become a regular part of their lives.

A report, titled, 'A Qualitative Study on Children Living in Street Situations in Bangladesh 2024' states that there are 3.4 million street children in the country. They face various problems in their daily lives. 

According to the Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics, eight out of 10 street children are victims of various forms of abuse or harassment by passersby.

A recent dialogue, titled 'Marginal Voices: Policy Dialogue to End Violence Against Street Children in Dhaka City,' organised by Global Street Connect (GSC), reminded us of this again. 

As some street children and teenage girls shared their horrific experiences in tearful voices about the sexual harassment they face on the streets every day, there was no one in the auditorium whose eyes were not filled with tears.

The words of three street children, especially girls, have been presented here. Their names and addresses have been intentionally withheld.

Case one

My father brought my mother from the village to the town and left her on the streets. That is why I was born on the streets.

When I was a child, my mother feared that, over time, boys and men would start harassing me, so she remarried. I was then sent to live at my maternal uncle's house. 

However, they eventually saw me as a burden and tried to marry me off at a very young age. Out of frustration and anger, I left them and moved to Kamalapur Railway Station, where I began living.

Life at the station was no better. I grew tired of the boys pulling my headscarf and touching me inappropriately, so I sought refuge at a nearby drop-in centre for street children.

However, the centre only allows me to stay until 2pm, use the shower and access the toilet. After that, I have no choice but to return to the station to sleep. At night, the harassment intensifies, with people making inappropriate suggestions and even sexually abusing me while I am asleep. Despite all this, I am forced to endure these conditions, as I have nowhere else to go.

I humbly request the establishment of a night shelter for girls like me, so we can have a safe place to stay before evening, where we can rest and sleep without fear.

Case two

A significant and deeply painful event has occurred in my life, one that is difficult for me to talk about, but I want to share it today. When I was young, my mother remarried, and I gained a stepfather.

By the time I was five years old, my two younger sisters were born. My mother would leave us at home to go out and work, and during this time, my stepfather revealed his true nature. 

He was a terrible man who gambled and engaged in many harmful activities. From a young age, he physically abused me, and as I grew older, he began forcing me into unspeakable acts. For four years, he sexually abused me, and eventually, I became pregnant.

I could no longer endure the situation. At that point, I had no choice but to abort the baby. When the truth came to light, society turned against me. They beat me and chased me out of the area, but my stepfather, with his connections to powerful people, faced no consequences.

Since then, I have been living on the streets. Every day, I endure harassment, with men of all ages — even those as old as my father — approaching me with degrading offers of money. I feel hungry, brother; what else can I do?

Case three

I am just a small girl, but my step-parents constantly tortured me. They wanted me to engage in shameful acts, and I had no choice but to escape from home with my birth mother. We fled to Kamalapur Railway Station, where life became even more miserable. 

While living there under extremely difficult conditions, I faced various forms of harassment. One day, I fell seriously ill with a high fever and lost consciousness. When I woke up, my mother was gone, and I could not find her anywhere. Left with no other option, I was forced to live on the streets with others like me. Life on the streets is so harsh that words cannot describe it.

During this time, I suffered a severe injury to my leg. The wound was excruciating, and I writhed in pain, unable even to cry out for my mother. In that desperate situation, a kind man stepped in to help me. He treated my leg injury, arranged for care, and eventually brought me to a centre where I could stay. Here, I can now eat and sleep, but I still see no future for myself.

We are the ones who sing the songs of a well-tended garden and share it with others, yet our own lives remain barren and broken. When will this country truly become a well-tended garden for children like us? When will the livable world envisioned by Sukanta be a reality for street children? 

These remain the pressing questions of our time.

Monjur Rashid is a researcher, social analyst and policy advocate.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.