A silhouette of a young boy looking at a locked gate with the words “Police Station” faintly visible

 It was just another October afternoon in Pulwama, a quiet district in South Kashmir, when a 17-year-old boy — a Class 11 student busy preparing for his exams — received a phone call that would change everything.

The call came from police number — 954*******, belonging to the office of the Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Pulwama. The message was simple but chilling: “Report to the office.”

No written notice. No explanation. No call to his parents. Just a voice of authority summoning a minor like an adult criminal.

A Child Caught Between Fear and Power

The next day, on 10th October 2025, the boy, accompanied by his father, went to the District Police Line in Pulwama. But once there, his father — his only emotional anchor in an intimidating space — was asked to wait outside. The child was taken in alone.

No Child Welfare Police Officer (CWPO) was present. No one verified his age. No rights were read out to him. Instead, he was reportedly questioned over a casual phone conversation in which someone had mentioned the word “gun.”

For the police, perhaps, it was a routine inquiry. But for the child — a teenager with dreams, fears, and school assignments — it became a nightmare that has left him shaken, silent, and psychologically scarred.

The Law is Clear. The Violation is Clearer.

Under the Juvenile Justice (Care and Protection of Children) Act, 2015, children cannot be summoned or questioned in police stations like adults. Every interaction must be in a child-friendly environment and in the presence of a parent or guardian. A trained Child Welfare Police Officer must handle the case, ensuring the child’s safety and dignity.

Yet in this case, each one of those protections was ignored.

No parent was allowed inside.

No CWPO was present.

No documentation or record was provided.

And, worst of all, no one thought about the child’s fear.

The Psychological Aftermath

Since the incident, the student’s mentor reports that he has become withdrawn, refuses to study, and avoids communication. He has stopped working on an academic project he was once passionate about. What began as a simple misuse of authority has now evolved into psychological trauma — anxiety, isolation, and loss of confidence.

This is what happens when institutions forget that children are not suspects — they are citizens with rights.

When Law Turns Its Back on the Vulnerable

This case is not an isolated event. Across India — and particularly in conflict-affected regions like Kashmir — children are too often caught between systems of security and systems of care. The tension between policing and protection leaves them vulnerable to mistakes that the law was designed to prevent.

Article 21 of our Constitution guarantees every citizen the right to life and personal liberty. Article 39(f) ensures children are protected from exploitation and moral abandonment. But what happens when those entrusted to uphold these rights become the ones who violate them?

Where Are the Human Rights Voices?

This is precisely why human rights groups, child protection NGOs, and education advocates need to raise their voices — not just when violence erupts, but when everyday injustices like this quietly unfold behind institutional walls.

The National Commission for Protection of Child Rights (NCPCR) has been urged to investigate this Pulwama case. But beyond inquiry, what’s needed is accountability, empathy, and reform.

•            Every district police unit must have trained Child Welfare Police Officers (CWPOs).

•            Parents must never be excluded from their child’s questioning.

•            Police departments must undergo mandatory sensitization training on how to handle minors.

•            Most importantly, children must never be summoned to police stations — the law demands child-friendly procedures, not intimidation.

Children Deserve Dignity, Not Fear

The Pulwama incident is a reminder of something fundamental — child rights are not optional guidelines; they are the moral compass of a civilized society. When a 17-year-old is treated like a suspect instead of a student, when fear replaces fairness, and when silence replaces accountability — we, as a society, lose a piece of our collective humanity.

A phone call may seem like a small thing. But for one child in Pulwama, it shattered his sense of safety. For the rest of us, it should shatter our silence.

The author is an educator and advocate for child rights in conflict zone, writing on justice.