SUMERA Riaz sits gingerly on the edge of the sofa and tells her story. It is in the words of a little girl who does not understand much of anything except being torn away from her family, with not much hope of being reunited with them. But it is better this way, she knows too.

Two years ago, when she was just eight years old, Sumera was being married off to her 25-year-old cousin, but police raided the place. “I remember there was a fight, then I was taken to the police station,” she says. “Later an ‘uncle’ and ‘auntie’ came to the station and asked me if I wanted to come with them. I agreed and so they brought me here,” she says, referring to the Child Protection Bureau’s shelter.

Today Sumera studies in the bureau’s own school and rattles off things she has learnt. She is in class two, she says, and hopes to become a doctor when she grows up.

Perhaps she is one of the luckier ones. Too many children are rescued by the Punjab Child Protection and Welfare Bureau (PCPWB), including domestic wor­kers suffering at the hands of their employers, those involved in street prostitution, those who beg, and many other cases.

But many of them have to leave after their parents pay the fine. But if children come as ‘repeaters’, as Bureau Director Saba Sadiq calls them, then they try to gain custody instead of sending them back to the rut they came from.

The Bureau works under the Punjab Destitute and Neglected Children Act 2004. Only on June 20, they had a massive operation where 52 children were rescued off the streets. Most belong to families of gypsies who are involved in the business of begging. A few were also selling products, with their parents nearby. “These families will never accept that these children were begging or selling,” says Ms Sadiq.

Statistics from the Bureau show that in 2013, they rescued around 2,093 children, and 19 infants. The numbers have only increased every year, with the highest being last year, when 7,087 children and 25 infants were rescued. This year 3,891 children and 13 infants have been rescued.

Within 24 hours the child is produced before a court in the same building, a case file is prepared, and usually he or she is given in the government’s custody, with the Bureau acting as guardian. Parents can get the child released after paying a fine. Begging can result in three years’ jail or a fine of Rs 50,000 or both.

With regular drives, including surprise operations which can happen during the night as well, Ms Sadiq says the number of children on the street has come down considerably.

“Once the children are brought in, they are bathed, dressed, checked for health issues, for instance skin infections, dental problems or malnutrition. Some have even been brought in with TB,” she says.

“The entire government is part of our system. We have everyone from the federal ministries to the provincial departments helping us with any issues.”

After Tuesday’s rescue operation, a group of parents are now crowding outside the courtroom, waiting for their turn. As Ms Sadiq has warned, they say different things in their defence.

“My child had gone to the market to buy clothes,” says one woman.

“My son was just standing on the roadside, he was not begging,” says an irate man.

Cross-questioning reveals flimsy stories, though.

“These children were neglected and on the streets, some of them in hazardous situations,” says Rao Khalil Ahmed, Assistant Director of CPWB. “Two or three of them were of the same family holding balloons, but in actuality they were just going from car to car asking for money. No child should be used for begging or any other reason the way these families have been using them.”

The bureau has also helped rescue a number of children from domestic labour, deemed modern slavery by international law, because it is behind closed doors and is the most dangerous situation for a child to be in.

There are several who were lost, but were later reunited with their families.

This year, 3,648 children have been reunited with their families so far. Among them were some children whose families were now living in Afghanistan.

The figure for the entire 2016 was 6,422.

However, there are some children for whom finding their parents has become a dream.

Raees Nazeer was only six years old when he came to Lahore with his father. His mother had just died and his father had come from Sheikhupura to find work. Stopping at Data Darbar to pay their respects, Raees lost his father in the crowd and never found him again. Although it is highly likely that Raees was purposely abandoned by a poverty-stricken man, the 17-year old, who is still living at the Bureau, hopes that he will be reunited with him one day.

His eyes become misty as he remembers his father. “He was brown, not very tall, and had a piece of cloth on his left shoulder,” he puts into words the last, fading image of his father etched in his mind.

“Even now when I ride a rickshaw sometimes, I imagine, what if this were him?”

The emptiness he feels is obvious and although 11 years have passed, the pain of separation has not eased. But Raees is most thankful for being with the PCPWB as he has had a chance to study and hopes he can now put some meaning into his life.

“It breaks me every time I see little children run away from their families,” he says. “I wish I could tell them, don’t lose sight of your parents — stay close to them.”

Published in Dawn, June 26th, 2017