At first, Muhammad Imran didn’t panic. He thought the flames at Gul Plaza were just another small spark—something fellow shop owners would quickly put out. But within seconds, thick smoke poured through the ducts. The lights went out. Phone flashlights flickered uselessly. “You couldn’t see the person next to you,” he said. “It felt like doomsday.”
Imran, who has diabetes and a history of heart surgery, managed only a few steps before nearly collapsing. Yet he survived—unlike at least 67 others who died in the Gul Plaza fire on January 17. Another 15 remain missing and are feared dead. The blaze burned for nearly two days and reduced a bustling four-story complex of 1,200 family-run shops to ash.
What made escape so hard? Locked doors, blocked corridors, and zero ventilation. Survivors say all but three of the building’s 16 exits were locked—a routine practice after 10 p.m. When they finally broke free, many watched helplessly as rescue efforts stalled due to poor equipment and delayed response.
Police believe the fire started in an artificial flower shop, possibly ignited by children playing with matches. But the real disaster built up over decades. Documents reviewed by Reuters show Gul Plaza violated building safety codes for years. Authorities filed court cases in 1992, 2015, and 2021 over unauthorized construction and missing fire safeguards. Yet they rarely enforced penalties—or followed up.
A November 2023 fire department survey already flagged the area’s commercial buildings for serious risks: broken alarms, blocked exits, no emergency lighting, and zero staff training. Then, in January 2024, inspectors rated Gul Plaza’s fire safety as “unsatisfactory” across key areas—firefighting access, electrical wiring, and alarm systems. Urban Search and Rescue teams had also marked it as high-risk months earlier.
Still, nobody fixed the problems.
On the night of the fire, chaos erupted fast. “Young boys were crying. People were panicking,” Imran recalled. With exits locked, survivors smashed doors and formed human chains in the dark. They ran to the roof—where 70 people, including children, were trapped for nearly an hour. Smoke funneled upward, blinding them completely.
Then, a miracle: the wind shifted. A sudden gust cleared the smoke just enough to reveal Rimpa Plaza next door. Young men crossed first, found a broken ladder, and began ferrying people across—one by one. “I was the last to leave,” Imran said. “I wanted to make sure everyone was safe.” An Edhi Foundation ambulance waited on the other side.
Yet many didn’t make it out. Survivors say several of the missing were heroes—shop workers who stayed behind to help others or rushed back in looking for family. Abdul Ghaffar, a toy store employee, lost a cousin who was last heard apologizing to his family in a voice note. “He was helping people escape,” Ghaffar said. “That’s how he died.” Three other relatives remain unaccounted for.
The official response struggled from the start. Though the first fire trucks arrived within 10 minutes, shopkeepers say they ran out of water and left to refill. Officials deny this and blame traffic and a crowd of over 3,000 for delays. They also point to extreme challenges: more than 50 gas cylinders inside, plus flammable perfumes, fuel, and batteries. Many shops were packed full ahead of Ramadan—the peak shopping season.
Today, the Gul Plaza fire stands as a grim symbol of systemic neglect. For years, authorities warned of danger. Inspections happened. But they failed to act. And ordinary people paid the price.
“All of this keeps replaying in my mind,” Imran said. “People we saw every day are no longer among us. God saved us—but I still can’t understand what kind of fire this was.”
