In the dusty outskirts of Sindh and the narrow lanes of Punjab’s urban ghettos, countless children from Pakistan’s religious minorities rise each morning with the hope of learning, of being treated as equals. But that hope often dies before the school bell rings. For decades, Pakistan’s education system has failed its non-Muslim citizens—Hindus, Christians, Sikhs, Ahmadis, and others—by either excluding them entirely or dragging them into classrooms where discrimination, humiliation, and state-sponsored marginalization are the norm. These children are not just neglected; they are made to feel like outsiders in their homeland.
Despite constitutional guarantees, including Article 22(1), which explicitly protects children from receiving religious instruction contrary to their own beliefs, minority students are routinely forced to study Islamic Studies. In many public schools, there are no alternatives. When they object, they are met with indifference—or worse, suspicion. For a young Christian or Hindu student, every page in the textbook is a reminder that their history does not matter, that their identity is a footnote in Pakistan’s narrative. The curriculum glorifies Islamic heroes and wars against “infidels,” subtly teaching students that those who don’t belong to the majority faith are somehow lesser. This isn’t just negligence—it is indoctrination, sanctioned and sustained by the state.
The discrimination does not stop at the textbooks. Minority children face bullying from classmates and prejudice from teachers. In villages across rural Sindh, Hindu children have been made to sit at the back of classrooms or drink from separate glasses. In Punjab, Christian children are called derogatory slurs like “choora”—a casteist insult that strips them of dignity. Some are even made to clean school toilets as a form of punishment, reinforcing deep-seated social hierarchies that the government refuses to address. These aren’t isolated incidents; they are part of a systemic rot that reflects the failure of Pakistan’s education policies to embrace diversity.
The government of Pakistan must bear direct responsibility for this state of affairs. Time and again, it has made lofty promises—introducing the Single National Curriculum (SNC), pledging reforms, and allocating quotas for minority students in higher education. But these measures have largely been cosmetic. The SNC, far from being inclusive, has further entrenched Islamic ideology in educational content while continuing to exclude or misrepresent minority narratives. Instead of creating equal opportunities, it has homogenized identity and deepened divisions. Government officials speak of unity, yet allow hate to fester in classrooms where teachers openly preach that non-Muslims are impure or untrustworthy.
Moreover, the infrastructure in minority-majority areas tells a painful story of neglect. In many villages inhabited by Hindu communities in Sindh or Christian settlements in southern Punjab, schools are either non-existent or operate in crumbling buildings with no toilets, no books, and no trained teachers. Where schools do exist, the dropout rate among minority children—especially girls—is alarmingly high. Poverty is a factor, but so is fear: parents worry their children will be harassed, converted, or taught to hate their religion.
The psychological toll on these children is immense. Imagine being a ten-year-old, forced to memorize religious verses that contradict your beliefs, punished for refusing to participate in prayers, and mocked for celebrating your festivals. Such experiences don’t just affect academic performance—they shape a child’s entire worldview, teaching them that they are second-class citizens, unwanted and unloved by the very country they call home.
One doesn’t need to look far to see the consequences. In Joseph Colony, Lahore, after an unfounded blasphemy accusation in 2013, dozens of Christian homes were torched. Many families pulled their children out of school, fearing for their safety. In Ghotki, Sindh, a similar pattern followed after a Hindu teacher was falsely accused. How can a child learn in a country where their faith puts a target on their back?
The Pakistan government has not just ignored these problems—it has, in many ways, been complicit. Through its silence, through discriminatory curricula, through failure to train teachers or enforce protections, it has allowed hatred to become institutional. There is no excuse. No sovereign nation that claims to uphold the rights of its people can continue to treat minority children as invisible or inferior.
If Pakistan is serious about progress and justice, it must begin in its classrooms. That means overhauling the curriculum, enforcing religious freedom in education, punishing discriminatory behavior, and investing in minority-majority schools. It means appointing more teachers from minority backgrounds and including minority heroes in national stories. It means remembering that a nation that divides its children cannot hope to unite its people.
Until then, the children of Pakistan’s religious minorities will continue to walk into classrooms not to learn, but to survive. And in the silence of the state, their voices will continue to fade.