On a typical afternoon in Dhaka, a small girl weaves through a maze of vehicles stuck at a traffic signal, a clutch of flowers in her hand. She leans towards car windows, knocking gently, sometimes met with a quick wave, sometimes with irritation or outright hostility. As soon as the light changes, she sprints back to the pavement to avoid being run over, only to repeat the same ritual at the next signal. For many city dwellers, she and others like her have faded into the urban backdrop — dismissed as pothoshishu or tokai, words that reduce children to categories rather than recognise them as individuals.
Behind these labels lies a crisis that has been building for years.
A growing population, an overlooked minority
In 2015, the Bangladesh Institute of Development Studies estimated that there were 1.5 million street children in the country and projected that this number would reach 1.6 million by 2024. That projection now looks painfully conservative. A UNICEF study published in March 2024 found more than 3.4 million children living on the streets without parental care, with Dhaka hosting the largest concentration.
A 2022 survey by the Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics (BBS) reported that girls comprised 18 percent of street children, with an average age of 10.5 years — younger than the boys. But these figures are widely seen as underestimates.
Speaking to The Daily Star, Professor Dr Md Golam Azam of the Institute of Social Welfare and Research at Dhaka University traced how girls end up on the street. "The main factors driving young girls onto the streets are poverty, parents' separation or divorce, additional marriage, migration from rural areas to city centres. Most of them have no one to take care of them, as a result they are forced onto the streets." Once in the city, he explained, girls are often steered into domestic work as a survival strategy — work that leaves them vulnerable to long hours, abuse and exploitation, with no contracts or protections.
Others are deceived from the outset: enticed with promises of jobs, education, or marriage, only to be abandoned or trafficked once they reach the city.
Violence as a daily reality
A 2023 UNICEF study found that 30 percent of street children sleep in open public spaces. Nearly 84 percent experience harassment from strangers, and 72 percent cannot read or write. For girls, the risks are layered and gendered: sexual violence, coercion, trafficking, and the constant anxiety of managing menstruation without privacy, sanitation or support.
Drug use adds another dangerous dimension. A study by the Department of Narcotics Control found that 56 percent of street children are addicted to some form of drug, and 21 percent are used as carriers. For many, substances become a way to dull hunger, fear and trauma — a temporary escape that tightens the grip of exploitation.
ASM Rahmat Ullah Bhuiyan, Deputy Country Director of Save the Children Bangladesh, said, "The violence they face is especially stark in the case of girls." Yet even as these threats intensify, he noted, girls remain both statistically and socially marginalised. "Social stigma pushes them further away from their rights. The state is not able to play the role it should," he added.
Md Julfikar Ali, Programme Coordinator of Aparajeyo Bangladesh, a non-profit organisation working with socially excluded children and youth, described the relentless uncertainty: "Girls face multifaceted problems while growing up on the streets. Firstly, they have accommodation-related problems like — where will they sleep, where and what will they eat, where can they use washrooms."
Adolescent girls, he added, are regularly targeted: "Girls are being targeted for sexual harassment and violence. Many are also being exploited in return for very little money or favour."
Discrimination extends far beyond the family. Forhad Hossain, founder and executive director of LEEDO (Local Education and Economic Development Organisation), explained, "This discrimination doesn't just stop at households; schools, law enforcement, healthcare providers, and the wider community behave in the same way. As a result, many girls are discouraged from seeking help or protection, leaving them further isolated from mainstream society and denied equal opportunities for growth and future development."
The desperation is evident in their daily routines. Some beg at traffic signals, some wash dishes in roadside eateries, some rummage through dustbins for leftovers. Others, stuck in peer groups with no adult support, slide into substance use.
No papers, no protection
One of the less visible but most damaging barriers is the absence of legal identity. A recent Aparajeyo survey in Gabtali found that 163 out of 198 street children had no birth certificate. "Some are orphans, some left home and have no connection to their parents," Ali said.
Without documents, girls are locked out of education systems, health services and legal safeguards. Schools refuse enrolment without papers; courts struggle to recognise them as minors; hospitals may turn them away or treat them last. This lack of identity deepens their vulnerability and reduces their options for escape.
Forhad Hossain sees this repeatedly. "We have struggled to enroll children in schools because no institution accepts a child without proper papers," he said.
What would real protection look like?
There is no single blueprint for change, but those working in the field agree that piecemeal responses are not enough.
Professor Golam Azam argues that solutions must begin at policy level. "We should rethink rehabilitation or reintegration programmes at the intra ministerial level. Government should allocate permanent rehabilitation centres at the district level for the street children, ensure education, decent meals and legal protection. Rich or elites of the society should also come forward. All of these need to be combined into a holistic framework."
Save the Children emphasises community-based integration, warning that large institutions can isolate children from society.
Aparajeyo Bangladesh underlines the importance of safe, structured shelters, particularly for girls facing immediate danger. Its rehabilitation centres offer accommodation, non-formal education and food, and it runs a 24-hour shelter in Mirpur for girls who have survived sexual violence and trafficking, providing counselling and vocational training.
Bangladesh needs a child-protected, safe and friendly environment — not just more shelters, but gender-sensitive counselling, menstrual hygiene support, community protection networks, documentation assistance and practical skills training. Rehabilitation cannot stop at "rescue"; it must centre dignity, agency and long-term stability.
Ystiaque Ahmed is a journalist at The Daily Star. He can be reached at [email protected].
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