October 15, 2025
By Iqra Manzoor
LAHORE
“I was in jail when I was about to give birth to my child – the jail staff took me to the hospital,” recalls Z*, a former inmate who gave birth to her second child during her time in Lahore’s Kot Lakhpat Jail, where convicted prisoners are kept.
“My son was born in jail, but while I was in hospital, I did not want to go back. I told them I wanted to live in the outside world with my children. My children gave me hope. They said I would be released soon, and so I went back.”
Z shared her story with Voicepk, and she shed light on the hidden realities faced by incarcerated women who become mothers behind bars. These women are often forced to give birth, recover, and then raise new born babies all while staying behind bars, and in conditions that deprive them of basic dignity and healthcare.
Eight months of confinement
Z was imprisoned in 2020, under Section 302 of the Pakistan Penal Code (PPC), after being accused of murdering her mother-in-law in July that year. Her husband, the complainant in the case, alleged that she was responsible for his mother’s death, though Z insists it was an accident.
“My brother had come to visit and was standing on the roof, when a brick accidentally fell and hit my mother-in-law,” she revealed. “She died of her injuries. My brother ran away, and my husband accused me of killing her.”
At the time of her arrest, Z was pregnant with her second child while she had an elder daughter at home. She spent nearly eight months in Kot Lakhpat Jail — also known as Central Jail Lahore — before being released 20 days after giving birth to her son at Sir Ganga Ram Hospital.
“There was no rest, even when I was pregnant.”
For Z it was a time of constant exhaustion and fear.
“We used to face many problems with electricity and water,” she remembers. “Because Iof the pregnancy, my blood pressure used to get really low. The staff told me to eat an egg or drink water with salt, but nobody helped me. Even when I felt unwell, I had to cook for myself on the stove — it was hard to stand near the heat.”
She says there were no spaces for pregnant women to walk or exercise. “The staff would lock us up in a room or hall. I hadn’t seen the outside world for months. Only when I went to court could I see sunlight. When I gave birth, one of the staff told me to stay in my room — another inmate helped me for a few days.”
Even after childbirth, Z says there was no leniency. “We were not allowed to rest. I had to work starting from 20 days after my delivery. My baby was in my lap, but they told me to put him aside and start working.”
“We all cried at night”
It is the emotional toll that she remembers more vividly than anything else.
“I used to cry every night in jail. Many of us did,” she said. “I missed my elder daughter, but my husband — who had filed the case — didn’t let her meet me. She was only nine months old then.”
At times, her voice trembles when she talks about that time.
“I don’t like to recall that period. It was a very difficult time — it has passed now. We don’t talk about it. Not at all.”
“They treated us like cattle”
Z says that food and medical care were poor and the behaviour of the prison staff was often dehumanizing.
“We got food twice a day, and it wasn’t good,” she says. “There was no separate food for children or pregnant women — everyone ate the same. My health was fine before I went to prison, but it got worse once I was there. We didn’t complain because they threatened to beat us. The staff used to warn us not to tell lawyers or outsiders anything.”
According to Z, violence and corruption were common.
“The wardens used to beat prisoners who argued or fought. They never beat me because I was pregnant, but I saw them beat others,” she said. “There were drugs going around too. Hashish was common and was smuggled in — some inmates hid it in their shoes and smoked it under blankets. If they got caught, they could pay the staff to get away.”
Inmates lived in cramped and suffocating conditions. “There were around 50 beds in one hall. When the electricity went out in summer, we could hardly breathe.”
A life rebuilt
Z was finally released 20 days after giving birth to her son on February 13, 2021. Today her child is five years old. She says she tries not to think about those days anymore.
“I pray no one ever sees a day in prison. There is no freedom there — you have to live by their rules. They never thought of us as humans.”
Her story is a stark reminder of the neglect faced by women prisoners — especially mothers — in Pakistan’s jails, where issues of overcrowding, inadequate facilities, and the absence of maternal care remain unaddressed despite years of reform promises.
Children behind bars
According to statistics, there are at least 140 children under the age of six years who are currently living a life behind bars in Punjab — not for crimes of their own, but because their mothers are serving time. These children — 67 boys and 73 girls — are spending their formative years within the walls of 45 different prisons across the province.
According to data from the Punjab Home Department, Rawalpindi’s Adiala Jail and Multan Women’s Jail house the highest number of such children. Lahore Central Jail currently holds 10 minors (five boys and five girls), while Gujranwala Central Jail has 12, Kasur District Jail has two boys, and Sheikhupura Jail has three girls.
More than 100 women across Punjab’s prisons are raising their children in captivity — without proper nutrition, sunlight, or spaces for play and development.
Changing realities and official claims
Prison authorities, however, insist that conditions for women and children in jails are improving. In a recent video released by Punjab Prisons, Zara Mehek, an inmate who is currently behind bars since the last three years with her two-year-old son, spoke of better facilities.
“My child is getting an education and has a lot of activities. There’s even a playground for children so they can have fun despite being here. But I have hope that soon I’ll leave this place and live a normal life with my family,” she said.
Inspector General (IG) Prisons Mian Farooq Nazir reportedly told the media that children are being provided healthcare, education, food, and recreation “in accordance with the law.”
DIG Prisons Headquarters Mian Salik Jalal added that legally, children under five are allowed to stay with their mothers, but once they turn six, they are either handed over to relatives or sent to SOS Villages.
Punjab’s Home Secretary Dr. Ahmad Javed Qazi also acknowledged the psychological toll of imprisonment on children but stated that “the law requires infants to remain with their mothers until the age of five.”
However, child rights activists maintain that despite improvements, these children are still paying for crimes they never committed — growing up behind bars in an environment that no child should have to call home.
Punjab prison records show that facilities provided to the children confined with female prisoners are as under:
Religious teachers are deputed for imparting religious learning
Primary schools are also functioning in female wards
Recreational facilities i.e. cradle, caroms board, luddo, etc.
Iron beds have also been arranged for children through local philanthropists
Television sets are available in female wards
Air coolers and electric waters cooler are being provided in summer
A forgotten reality
Z’s account, though deeply personal, mirrors the conditions faced by many incarcerated mothers across the province. Despite court directives and policy discussions on prison reforms, women prisoners — especially those with children — continue to live in overcrowded, unhygienic, and under-resourced facilities.
For Z, the memories of confinement still haunt her. “It was a very difficult time,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “Thank God it’s over. Nobody should ever have to live through that.”