The Brothers I Ate With Yesterday… Today I Helped Bury Them

Yesterday feels unreal today.
Just a few hours ago, we were sitting together, sharing food, laughing over small things, making ordinary plans. Nothing special. Nothing dramatic. Just life being normal.
And today… today I stood at a graveyard, helping lower those same brothers into the ground.
This is about the tragic fire at Gul Plaza, Saddar Karachi.
But honestly, calling it “news” feels wrong. For us, it’s not a headline — it’s a wound.
When the fire broke out, none of us imagined how bad it would become. Smoke, chaos, screams, confusion. People trapped. People running. People praying. And then silence. Heavy, painful silence.
Gul Plaza wasn’t just a building. It was a place of livelihood, friendship, routine. Many of the people who lost their lives were simple workers — shopkeepers, helpers, guards — people who left home every day just to earn an honest living.
What hurts the most is how quickly life changes.
Yesterday’s meal became today’s funeral.
Yesterday’s jokes became today’s tears.
I keep thinking about their families. Mothers waiting for sons who will never come back. Children who will grow up hearing stories instead of voices. Wives whose lives changed in one night.
This tragedy also forces us to ask uncomfortable questions.
Why do we keep ignoring safety?
Why are human lives always cheaper than negligence?
Why do lessons only come after graves are filled?
I am writing this with a heavy heart and shaking hands. If my words sound broken, it’s because I am. This post is not to gain sympathy or rewards — it is to remember, to respect, and to remind.
Please say a prayer for those who lost their lives.
Please remember them as humans, not numbers.
And please, if you ever think life is guaranteed — remember Gul Plaza.
Yesterday we ate together.
Today we buried them.
May Allah grant them peace, and give strength to those left behind. Ameen.