“To write the name of a dead child by hand is to refuse emotional distance,” one volunteer involved in the project said during the exhibition.
“Communal grief calls for communal healing, which can only occur when we are able to express that grief openly,” Amira Haroon, curatorial consultant, tells TRT World.
“Roses of Humanity, as a project, has given everyone involved the chance to create, make, display, write, photograph, and record — a shared, beautiful act of communal healing. It is an invitation to mend that small fracture in the heart that opens each time we see another image, another headline, another innocent life plucked from a lifetime of possibility,” she says.
The women artisans behind the installation describe the project as personally transformative. One of the artisans, Salma, says the work changed her life both emotionally and financially.
“Nuria entrusted me with this work, and I feel fortunate that we were given this opportunity. Through this work, many women like me were able to support our homes and improve our circumstances. We felt proud because the work created by our hands gave us dignity and confidence,” Salma tells TRT World.
“These flowers did not come into my life just to be woven — they came to transform my life. Whenever I look at these roses now, I see not just flowers, but also Nuria Bibi behind them. She is an example of a woman who changes the lives of other women.”
For many involved in the project, the slow, deliberate process of stitching the flowers became central to its meaning. Every rose was made by hand, and each fold and stitch became an act of remembrance.
That sense of slowness stands in sharp contrast to the speed at which images of destruction circulate online.
Beyond symbolism
Since the beginning of the war, humanitarian agencies have repeatedly warned of worsening conditions inside Gaza, where overcrowded displacement camps, damaged sanitation systems, and shortages of medical supplies continue to affect civilians.
Aid organisations have also reported growing public health risks, including contaminated water, disease outbreaks, and deteriorating shelter conditions.
For visitors at the Karachi exhibition, however, those realities are encountered through names and symbols rather than headlines. Children are not represented as anonymous casualties, but as individuals whose lives were interrupted.
The exhibition avoids overt political messaging. There are no speeches, slogans, or campaign banners inside the space. Instead, the installation centres grief itself.
That approach appears to resonate strongly with visitors who are constantly exposed to images of conflict online.
As wars increasingly unfold through social media feeds and breaking-news alerts, many people describe feeling emotionally exhausted or desensitised. Roses of Humanity attempts to counter that numbness through physical presence and ritual.
The project also includes a fundraising component, in collaboration with Bioniks Welfare Foundation, to support the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund’s Child Amputee Rehabilitation Program (PCRF), which provides prosthetic limbs for child amputees in Gaza.
The organisers say the initiative was designed to move beyond symbolism and direct public engagement towards practical support for affected children.
Still, the installation’s strongest impact is emotional.
Visitors emerge quietly from the exhibition space into Karachi’s busy streets carrying the weight of what they have just witnessed.
The garden remains unfinished, mirroring the grief left by the war itself.
“Though rooted in Gaza, this work speaks to a wider human reality, of lives lost, voices unheard, and the urgent need for compassion across all issues we face today,” Nuria Rafique Iqbal, the curator of Roses of Humanity, tells TRT World.
“Together, these roses form a living tribute to humanity, reminding us that dignity flourishes when we are seen, heard, and held in compassion.”
