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Lahore’s Delhi Gate.—Photo by the writer
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They live now in a model street. A few years ago they had never even dreamed of this. Its nooks and crannies instead of spewing filthy gutter water are now filled up. There are no more broken balconies, or open sewage lines; no more chipped bricks, no more ugly shop signs. The tangled electricity wires are gone. Each structure is a rebirth of what it used to be centuries ago.
Lahore’s Delhi Gate (erected by Emperor Jalaluddin Akbar) stands proud today in its original glory, welcoming outsiders.
It is said that the people of Old Lahore do not leave their ancestral homes. Here they are the kings and queens of the Walled City; each one a living story of old times. Outside these 13 gates — some completely destroyed but very much there in spirit — they would be lost souls. But some places are so damaged and the area so underdeveloped that many left for greener pastures. Countless homes lie vacant, their padlocks decades old and dusty. Trust has been so ingrained in the people of the Walled City that no one has broken into these ghost-houses.
But things are beginning to change now.
From Delhi Gate to Chowk Purani Kotwali the Walled City of Lahore Authority (WCLA) has finally completed phase one of its work. The project of revamping the Shahi Guzargah — a 1.6-kilometre journey from Delhi Gate to Lahore Fort — has ended up revamping antique buildings, and redoing the sewage and drainage system as well as gas and electricity lines. Gali Surjan Singh is their model neighbourhood. Its streets are cobbled, and its cracked walls restored.
“We used to have problems with mosquitoes and rats because of the open gutters,” says a local businessman. “This renovation work has fixed that.”
Senior tourism officer Muhammad Javed says that about 383 metres has been renovated, including 800 houses and 57 streets. But because there are almost 22,000 structures, there is a lot more to be done.
Lanes cross into each other, but the most perplexing are the constricted elbow lanes where two people cannot pass at the same time without brushing against each other. “These narrow lanes are the beauty of Lahore,” says Shehenshah, a resident. “Some are so narrow, that when there is a funeral, the body has to be carried out in a sheet, not a charpoy.”
Some of the street names have great mystique attached to them. There is the Ghoonghar Wera (the courtyard of the veiled), Mohallah Chehel Bibian (rich women lived here and often came out for walks) and Chor Khana — a maze of intricate lanes, with a large well in its centre used for punishing thieves in the olden days. Koocha Ghubarchian (balloon-makers’ street) is the narrowest. “A famous travel writer once wrote that he wished he would pass by a beautiful girl through Koocha Ghubarchian,” grins Javed.
The main street’s market sells a variety of things. In fact, Akbari Mandi is known as the world’s largest spice market. The potent fragrance of cinnamon, black pepper and red chillies wafts through the air.
The more popular monuments here are the Wazir Khan Mosque, the Shahi Hammam, and the Sonehri Masjid. But there is much more to see.
Deep within the Phoolon Wali Gali, a dark staircase opens upwards into a decrepit courtyard. This is the Bhaij Nath Haveli, built by Ranjeet Singh. “It is about 400 years old,” says Khawar Khurshid, the woman who lives there. “My husband’s family has owned this for a long time now.” It is built in tiers and needs conservation work badly. Though the place is in shambles it retains its grandeur.
A few lanes away is the Deena Nath Haveli, belonging to Shamsher Singh, Ranjeet’s accountant. The facade has been restored, but like many buildings here, the inside is badly damaged. This haveli has basements too, and tunnels which are said to lead to India.
Some years ago, when the value of these havelis was not known properly it was easy to collect pieces of its antique architecture. Shehenshah says 10 years ago, he bought a carved darvazah from for about Rs150,000.
“Some of these vahelis are still alive,” says Shehenshah, using the Punjabi word for the building. “Others have simply been deserted.” True enough, there are narrow wooden main gates, such as in Mohallah Chehel Bibian, but inside there is nothing except rubble. Even the rooms have fallen down. But the facades still remain. “The Sikh style is apparent through the use of the golden temple like motifs on the jharokas,” points out Farzana, another local guide.
As times have changed, people have, without changing the architecture moulded it to their needs. A dilapidated box air conditioner juts out of one of the antique windows. Others have painted their old wooden gates a bright shade of green to identify themselves such as the famous Nisar Haveli. Eventually walking around, one finds oneself standing at the road that leads to Mochi, or Akbari or Lahori Gate. This is not strange as all gates are interconnected.
The streets here, too, are congested. Deputy director of the Social Mobiliser Team Noshin Zaidi says often criminals take over deserted buildings and when they are tailed they escape by jumping from roof to roof. But because of this and potential terrorist threats, local vigilance committees have been formed.
When inside the Walled City, this is the only city that matters, and this is the only city that exists. The presence of the ancient structures is so strong, that in a way it is not just a world running on its own, but also another dimension.
Published in Dawn, March 22nd, 2015
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