In the heart of Pakistan’s agricultural hub, the Punjab region, the Bureau of Statistics reports that a whopping 15% of children marry before the age of 18. Previous legislation about child marriage declared the legal age for marriage as 18 for boys and 16 for girls.
The 2026 parliamentary session began fifty-three minutes late, which was confusing, because more punctuality is expected of me at school. Mujtaba Shuja-ur-Rehman brought the bill to the floor.
Minister Azma Bokhari began by exposing the grim reality of class privilege within our society and this institution:
“Those people today, who don't want restrictions on child marriages for those girls, would you like to marry your daughters at the ages of nine and eleven?”
Laws are meant to protect the most vulnerable within society, in this case, the underprivileged girls caught in this vicious cycle. Such double standards, when deeming it acceptable, are often rationalised when they occur elsewhere.
This reveals a hierarchy in whose childhood is considered worth protecting. Are we truly such a cynical society that we allow this social slavery to persist based on luck? Why do we forget that our so-called “status” is not of merit but one of chance?
Can we as a society allow the rape, murder, maternal deaths and abuse of girls just because it is not happening right in front of us?
Supporters of the status quo rarely defend child marriages outright and instead argue to pacify extreme religious politicians. These religious politicians in question, Maulana Fazlur Rehman, are saying that “I will attend marriages of 10-year-olds.”
One of the most disheartening moments within the Assembly was the withdrawal of Clause 4A, which would have declared child marriages void instead of “divorced” at their end
The biggest issue that even sends advocates against child marriages into silence is the threat of being put up for blasphemy, for going against examples given in Islam. MPAs argue that as long as we are under the title of “The Islamic Republic of Pakistan” we cannot go against Islamic jurisprudence.
The debate is not about whether Islam is right or wrong; it’s about the core principle of law: setting limits and providing protection. Are we as a nation so insecure that our status as an Islamic Republic is threatened by the protection of children?
Such extremist views protect the rape culture and make it easier to take advantage of someone’s inability to consent and perpetuate an understanding of Islam that is unprogressive. When twenty-five Islamic countries and provinces like Sindh and Balochistan within Pakistan have approved the age limit to be 18, then who are we to protest that this is "unIslamic"? Why can we not be the pioneers of progressive Islamic laws?
A clear-cut example of such statements is MPA Zulfiqar Ali Shah suggesting putting an “exception” within the bill for courts to interpret, to allow a minor to be married in order to avoid the “consequences” of totally restraining child marriages. Such statements refute the mental and physical torture endured by victims and outright invite perpetrators to abuse such a bill through loopholes.
My question: What is the point of drawing a line if you leave the door open to step around it?
Perhaps one of the most disheartening moments within the Assembly was the withdrawal of Clause 4A, which would have declared child marriages void instead of “divorced” at their end. This was not just a legal provision; it could have fundamentally shifted outcomes for young girls by protecting them from the stigma of divorce.
Why the hesitation in the face of meaningful reform? Zulfiqar Ali Shah further suggested that no court should take cognisance of an offence under this act two years after the occurrence. Such a limitation shifts the burden of accountability from the perpetrator to the victim, who is likely already silenced by social pressures.
I ask again, can we, people with an empathy gap shaped by privilege, truly legislate and decide the futures of children whom we may never understand, and in doing so risk reinforcing the very structures that enable deeper harms, such as the normalisation of violence and exploitation?
But coming to a lighter note, one thing about this bill that was truly admirable is the level of respect given to enforcement. With Clause 5A, tackling the issue from its roots. By preventing registrars from solemnising any marriage until the individual's adult status is proven with documents, while providing the next best alternative for each document.
To me, this is where the law truly becomes more than intent, by replacing vague social assumptions with documented reality. Making it harder for a child’s age to be quietly or conveniently overlooked by reducing the space for procedural manipulation.
Despite the clause facing opposition from Azma Bokhari, Uzma Kardar and Mujtaba Shuja-ur-Rehman, the Speaker facilitated a compromise by directly incorporating it into the accompanying rules of the bill. If this shift is to matter at all, let it narrow the gap between the world we debate in and the world girls are forced to live in.
The question that stands before us is whether we are finally ready to be consistent, whether we are willing to say clearly and without exception that in Punjab, childhood is not up for negotiation.