I RECENTLY visited 66-year-old Dr Mubina Agboatwala, a respected paediatrician and founder of HOPE — a charity established over three decades ago — at the women’s prison inside Karachi Central Jail, where she has been held for over three months.
Of the over 200 women prisoners there some were convicted, but a majority, like Dr Agboatwala, were under trial. This is hardly surprising. The judicial system is mired in inefficiency, from frequent postponements and a huge case backlog to an ineffective bail process. In 2024, Justice Project Pakistan found that 70 per cent of prisoners nationwide were under trial. Little wonder our prisons are bursting at the seams.
But, unlike Dr Agboatwala, most women lack visibility and a voice. Their anonymity brings into focus a troubling issue: the way our criminal justice system works and treats them and how society judges them from the time they are jailed to long after their release; even if they are proven innocent or have completed their sentence and have been released. The harm is already done.
The stigma is compounded by the harsh realities of life behind bars where medical neglect, especially regarding their mental well-being, drawn-out trials, and the difficult prospect of rebuilding a life after prison, can take a toll. Unfortunately, our institutions, the system and society remain too ill-equipped to understand, support, and later, accept these women.
To its credit, the Sindh government has attempted to reform the system — through the Sindh Prisons & Corrections Service [SP&CS] Act, 2019, which aims to replace colonial-era custodial practices with education, skills and counselling. But budgetary constraints and weak political will have kept the act largely confined to the statute books.
Sana Sharif has been interacting with women prisoners for the last seven years since she started working for the Committee for the Welfare of Prisoners, a government-notified statutory body, under the SP&CS Act. Founded by Justice Nasir Aslam Zahid in 2004, the committee makes life just a little more liveable for the prisoners, including men, women, adolescents and juveniles, ensuring better living conditions and livelihood opportunities to prisoners in 22 prisons across Sindh.
Most jailed women lack a voice.
But a prison is a prison, no matter what the context. Sharif has observed the suffering of female inmates first-hand and concludes that there is a greater need for gender-sensitive interventions.
Separation from children is more acute, social stigma is deeper: some women spend their child-bearing years in jail awaiting trial and some have been divorced while in prison. Pregnant and lactating women need not only special healthcare but also stronger mental health support to navigate emotional and physical challenges. Unmarried women face a different stigma. Even without conviction, their reputation is tarnished, thus jeopardising their marriage prospects.
The suffering does not begin and end behind the prison gates. Indeed, the public perception of women who have spent time in jail is a huge stumbling block to their reintegration, especially for those whose families have disowned them.
For these abandoned women, unschooled and without any skill to make them economically independent, leaving the prison and stepping into a world that may have changed, can be frightening. Fending for themselves may become a challenge. If they also have children depending on them, re-entering society is a double whammy.
Even before policies and frameworks for reintegration are developed, courts must view women prisoners through a gender-sensitive lens. Delays caused by lost files and countless case postponements should be minimised with technology’s help.
Bail laws must consider caregiving responsibilities and economic constraints. Decisions around granting bail must factor in a woman’s reputation and standing in her community.
Consider Dr Agboatwala as well as Dr Yasmin Rashid, a septuagenarian, doctor and cancer survivor. Both were denied bail despite their circumstances. The courts may well have their reasons, but ordinary people often view such decisions with scepticism, despite the judiciary’s claim to impartiality.
We may be light years away from clearing the backlog or establishing halfway houses for incarcerated women once they are released, but a good start would be to open the rule book of the 2019 Sindh legislation on prisons and give the Directorate of Corrections (tasked with prisoner reintegration) a shot in the arm by at least notifying it.
At the same time, while bureaucratic reforms are essential, society must step up. Every under-trial woman in jail has a human story to tell — not only of loss, but of resilience and the right to dignity. The media can play its role in challenging the stereotype attached to these women.
The writer is an independent journalist based in Karachi.
Published in Dawn, November 28th, 2025
