There is something quietly disarming about entering Aamina Hashmi’s world. At first glance you encounter jeweled insect women, lush botanical backdrops, and a palette that feels both playful and deliberate. Spend more time there and the work begins to settle differently. It is not simply about beauty. It is about balance, responsibility, and a way of looking at the natural world that feels both intimate and expansive. The garden, for her, is not a backdrop. It is a philosophy.
Aamina, who works under the name Poday Wali, traces much of this sensibility back to childhood. “Growing up, due to the nature of my father’s profession, we moved around a lot. We mostly lived in isolated places, but they were always surrounded by nature and rich biodiversity, so I would explore the greenery around us. I was a very curious child and deeply fascinated by other beings, and I have always had pets. In our household, we were taught from an early age to take care of animals.”
The restlessness of movement gave Aamina something steady to hold on to. Trees, soil, creatures, the quiet ecosystems that exist whether or not we pay attention.
The name Poday Wali arrived much later, and like most things in her practice, it was not strategized. It unfolded. “About six years ago, I picked up gardening as a form of self-therapy. It was not intentional at first, but my family encouraged me to look after around five to six plants daily. I started caring for them and would wake up early to water them, as that is usually the best time to water plants. This fixed my sleep schedule and made me feel very positive. I would get excited when those six tiny plants bloomed, and then one day I saw a beautiful moth resting on one of the pots. That moment made me decide to bring in more plants and explore gardening more actively as a hobby.”
What began as six plants soon transformed into a terrace sanctuary. “I began regularly visiting local plant nurseries and gradually grew my garden from six plants to over 100 in my small terrace space. I turned my terrace into a sanctuary. Birds started visiting, and I began noticing many unique insects. It became a safe haven for me. I decided to share my gardening journey online and document it, which is how I came up with the name Poday Wali, which loosely translates to ‘the plant lady.’ So it all happened very organically.” The name feels affectionate, almost playful, yet it holds the seriousness of care and attention.
Art has always been the artist’s primary language. “I am a self-taught artist and have been drawing since childhood. I am more comfortable expressing myself through visual elements rather than words. When I decided to share my gardening journey online, art became one of my primary tools of expression.”
At first, Aamina photographed plants in curated arrangements. Then came botanical illustrations. Then dressing up as plants. “Visual art mediums such as photography, flat-laid sculptures, collages, and traditional and digital painting helped me express my love for nature and its beauty. Through educational and visually curated posts on social media, I wanted to highlight the importance of nature and gardening.” The shift from hobby to visual philosophy was gradual but decisive.
The insects arrived not as symbols but as neighbors. “When my garden became a sanctuary for other beings, I noticed that many honey bees and hornets began visiting, yet they never harmed me. I also started noticing spiders. I would slip into a complete National Geographic camera-person mode, closely observing these creatures and their activities, and I realized how crucial they are to the ecosystem. Each of them has a purpose in maintaining balance within it.”
Observation turned into awareness, and awareness into obligation. “I not only developed an awareness of their importance myself but also felt the need to share it with others. That is when I realized that, to bring this awareness forward, humans first needed to empathize with them. And what better way to do that than by a human dressing up as an insect? I became a humanoid, embodying both the human and insect worlds.”
The first time Aamina shared one of these humanoid figures, something shifted. “When I first shared my humanoid character, people did not react with fear, as they usually would when seeing a mantis or a hornet. Instead, seeing a hornet with human hands and a human body made them relate to it, and that was exactly my intention. I wanted to start a dialogue. I wanted people to understand that these beings have lives just like ours and that they are equally vital.” It is a simple strategy with radical implications. If you can recognize yourself in what you fear, perhaps you will pause before destroying it.
Her advocacy is grounded in lived practice. “Often overlooked and controversial insects, such as hornets, mantises, and flies, play a significant role in organically managing harmful pest populations. In my garden, I use zero insecticides or pesticides, as everything is naturally regulated by these insects. Using insecticides would not only kill pest-controlling insects but would also harm honey bees. Ladybugs, for example, feed on aphids, which are a major threat to plants. When we allow biodiversity to thrive, we maintain equilibrium. Nature’s system is incredibly balanced and can be managed organically. This is why I feel an obligation to continue talking about these insects and the vital roles they play.” The message is clear. The ecosystem does not require domination. It requires respect.
Aamina’s artistic allegiance to the unloved is deliberate. “I try to highlight all insects, but I strongly believe in and actively promote loving the unloved species. As mentioned earlier, many of the controversial and scary-looking insects and creatures play a vital role in maintaining the ecosystem. Honey bees are not the only contributors to pollination; many overlooked insects and animals play an equally important part. I encourage my audience to treat nature with kindness because it rewards us immensely in return. There is so much healing available to us for free, yet we are suffocating it with our own hands.” The healing she speaks of is not abstract. It’s personal.
Her insect women carry that intimacy. They are fierce and adorned, delicate and commanding. They feel like mythic beings and private confidantes at the same time. “My humanoid female insect figures allow me to live different lives. I believe all of those phases exist within me, but sadly, in our country, there are very limited outlets for women to fully express themselves. These humanoid insect warriors help me live a completely different life, even if it is only for a few minutes, or preserved in the form of a painting or a photograph. Whenever I see them, they feel like a daily positive affirmation.” She speaks of them as companions rather than creations. “I also treat my characters as my best friends, someone I can talk to. I believe that this is my inner child healing and allowing that childlike sense of wonder within me to survive. So far, my entire artistic journey has been very organic. It is not an attempt to be unique or to become the next big thing. It is simply me sharing my passion through different forms of self-expression. It is my love letter to nature, which has healed parts of me and continues to do so. It is also my way of reclaiming my space as a woman in society.”
The parallels she draws between women and insects are pointed. “Most of my insect characters are women. The insects I choose are often the controversial or unloved ones in the human world, yet in nature, they are dominant and powerful figures. That is why I associate them with female human forms. I want women to reclaim their space in society as well, because they play a vital role. Without their impactful contributions, society cannot progress.”
At the center of this mythology stands a mantis. “My main humanoid character is a female praying mantis called the Lady Mantis. She is fierce and observant. She moves forward with grace and plays her moves intelligently. This is how I see women in general, and South Asian women in particular. South Asian women are often reduced to household chores and kitchen duties, but they are so much more than that. They are leaders. They are intelligent, kind women with immense potential.”
In her Reincarnation series, the work shifts again, becoming quieter and more meditative. Aamina works with dried plant remains, preserving what has withered and rearranging it into new forms. “I started the Reincarnation series because I was deeply attached to my plants, and I wanted to honor their death by preserving their remains and creating new beings from them. During this process, I realized that this is how the natural world functions as well. When we die, we become part of the soil. Our remains are broken down by insects and transformed into nutrients that nourish new life.” The realization changed her. “This realization left me even more mesmerized by the glory of nature and the Creator who designed everything so perfectly. I also came to understand how often we walk the earth with pride, crushing tiny insects as if they are insignificant, forgetting that one day, when we return to the soil after death, these very insects will feed on our bodies. This entire process broadened my perspective and deeply humbled me. I am truly grateful to gardening for humbling me in such a beautiful way and for bringing me closer to my roots and to my Creator.”
Living in Lahore has sharpened Aamina’s awareness of what is being lost. “I love the parks of Lahore, and I deeply adore the old, giant trees of Model Town. However, I have noticed that green spaces are shrinking, and manicured lawns are replacing biodiversity-rich green patches. In the name of ‘aesthetics,’ to make the city look wealthy or to give it a Beverly Hills–style appearance, native plants are being replaced with palm trees, which, in my opinion, are not suitable for Lahore. They provide little shade for the public and offer no meaningful nesting space for local bird populations. This deeply upsets me and makes me feel sad.”
And now, as if her mantis alter ego has been waiting for a new medium, Aamina is stepping into another space. “I am very excited to launch my podcast, Podacast, featuring my mantis character, Lady Mantis, as the host. I am thrilled about this new venture and cannot wait to share it with my audience.” It feels like a natural extension of a practice that has always blurred the line between human and insect, between performance and sincerity, between soil and screen.
To spend time with Aamina’s work is to be reminded that the smallest beings hold entire worlds within them. It is also to recognize that empathy, like gardening, requires patience, attention, and a willingness to kneel close to the ground.