KARACHI: Gul Plaza only announced its importance after it was gone. The lamp on my bedside table , the wall clock ticking opposite me, the bedsheet folded at the foot of my bed, and the ceramic tray holding loose change on my desk — all were purchased from the ill-fated shopping mall.

I hadn’t noticed just how much of my living space traces back to that same address in Karachi’s historic mall — until it was gone.

Each object carries has own story: a practical purchase the first time we moved house, an impulsive buy after a long walk through crowded aisles, or something my mother spotted on her many trips there. At the time, none of it felt momentous. These were low-stakes decisions made between bargaining and staircases.

The objects we purchased from Gul Plaza will eventually break, fade, or quietly disappear into storage. But what will inevitably remain is the memory of where they came from.

The objects purchased from Gul Plaza will eventually break, or quietly disappear into storage, but what will remain is the memory of where they came from; a rare market where affordability and variety converged

This isn’t just one person’s story. It is the case for most Karachiites, across class and generations, for whom Gul Plaza simply existed in the background as they put together their homes and lives, one item (sometimes remarkable, sometimes gloriously ordinary) at a time.

Wedding shopping, particularly, was inseparable from Gul Plaza. Taniya Awan recalled how when she was getting married, her parents went there for her jahez which included kitchenware, blankets, bedsheets, and home appliances. Years later, she returned not for herself, but for her son, Azhaan.

“When Azhaan turned five, he wanted a bicycle so I bought him one from Gul Plaza. At seven, he wanted an electric bike and I bought it from there too. In a way, it was a part of the timeline of his childhood.”

That sense of continuity, of returning to the same place at different stages of life, came up again and again. Ujala Nadeem described Gul Plaza as “a quiet witness to time passing.” She visited first as a child with her grandmother, later as a working adult with her father, and then as a newly married woman, designing a home of her own.

“When I received my first paycheck, I could only think of going to Gul Plaza for a shopping haul,” she said, recalling the pride of buying a rug from the basement with her own earnings. “Today, as fire and collapse scar its structure, it feels like watching a chapter of my own life get erased.”

For 50-year-old Novera Shamim, Gul Plaza was an integral part of her life. She reminisced her wedding 25 years ago: the very first crockery set at her in-laws’ house came from Gul Plaza. And she still has it.

Her love for artificial flowers drew her there monthly. “I would go there every month because there was incredible variety and quality,” she stated. Just last week, she ordered Bougainvillea flowers from a shop called Fantazia. “They responded so promptly when I placed an order online, and it was delivered within three days.”

Everything under one roof

What set Gul Plaza apart was its promise of completeness. It was that rare market space in Karachi where affordability, convenience, and variety converged.

In a city where the gap between the haves and the have-nots is ever-widening, Gul Plaza stood out as a rare space of inclusivity. Because its offerings were affordable while maintaining high-end quality, naturally, people from all socio-economic backgrounds found themselves there — one of the few places in Karachi where class lines quietly dissolved.

Aside from the availability and affordability of the goods, it was the relationships that anchored people to the space. Behind every shop was a person; a fact that hit shoppers hardest as images of the blaze circulated. convenience, and variety converged.

In a city where the gap between the haves and the have-nots is ever-widening, Gul Plaza stood out as a rare space of inclusivity. Because its offerings were affordable while maintaining high-end quality, naturally, people from all socio-economic backgrounds found themselves there — one of the few places in Karachi where class lines quietly dissolved.

Aside from the availability and affordability of the goods, it was the relationships that anchored people to the space. Behind every shop was a person; a fact that hit shoppers hardest as images of the blaze circulated.

A detailed version of the article can be accessed on Dawn.com

Published in Dawn, January 21st, 2026