My Journey Home: Uchae Burj Lahore Dae (Rising High are the Citadels of Lahore)
This second day, I was up early due to jet lag. And of course after eating aloo paronthas (shallow-fried flatbread stuffed with potatoes), I was ready to see the old city in which my ancestors grew up in and I had dreamed of visiting all of my life. My dreams indeed had come true. Little did I know that by the end of the day, I would be roaming Ram Gali #7 to look for my maternal ancestral home.
A Fort Like No Other Fort
Imagine visiting a fort where your ancestors served from early 1800s to 1849 for the Lahore Darbar under Sher-e-Panjab Maharaja Ranjit Singh. Arriving at Lahore Fort was breathtaking. Parking is usually done outside and far away from the Fort entrance. But as soon as the gate guard saw me sitting in the front seat of the car, he flung open the entry door as if he was opening his heart to welcome me. Once parked inside the fort, I was suddenly now walking in Hazuri Bagh — built in 1815 by Maharaja Ranjit Singh to commemorate acquiring of Kohinoor diamond. The Hazuri Bagh Baradari (12 doors) is made of white marble and was a 2 storey structure but the top story collapsed a long time ago just like the Lahore Darbar.
Standing majestically on one side of Hazuri Bagh was the grand Alamgiri Gate (built in 1674 by Emperor Aurangzeb) and on the other side was the grander Badshahi (Majestic)mosque built in 1671 by Emperor Aurangzeb. I was literally walking on history. As I entered Badshahi mosque after removing shoes, I felt I had visited this mosque before — then I realized how much Badshahi mosque had common with Jama mosque in Delhi that I had visited last year. Both made of red sandstone and onion domes. I then realized that Badshahi mosque had been modeled after Jama mosque of Delhi built by Emperor Shah Jahan in 1650s. Two real sisters but so apart in a partitioned subcontinent.
Suddenly, I caught glimpse of a small building to left of the entrance to Badshahi mosque. I was delighted to find out that it was the tomb of Allama Iqbal — the spiritual father of Pakistan. I had been a fan of his poetry so this took me by surprise. I reminisced his poem titled Said the Coal to a Diamond and remembered these lines: “Do you know my life’s gist? A condensed sliver of smoke, transformed into a single spark, in feature and nature star-like, your every facet a splendor, light of the king’s eye, the dagger’s jewel. Friend, be wise, the diamond replied, assume a bezel’s dignity! Loam strives to harden to fill my bosom with radiance. Burn because you are soft. Banish fear and grief. Be hard as stone, be a diamond.”
Inside of Lahore fort, I visited the various quarters built by various Emperors and Kings but my heart was mesmerized with the Athdhara (8 door building) where Sher-e-Punjab held court. This building has been immortalized in the Sikh imagination by a painting by August Schoeff from 1840s that now lies within the walls of this majestic fort. I imagined the splendor of this court at which my ancestors sat on but I was not brave enough to jump on the Athdhara just yet — it would have to wait till when I come back a few days later to the Lahore Fort for an after dark visit!
Majesty of the Sikh Darbar
It was then that I noticed a haveli (large home) with a museum below it — Rani Jindan Haveli. The downstairs museum showcased weapons from the Sikh Darbar, the armor of Mahraja Sher Singh (who my ancestor Ganda Singh Butalia tired to save when he was murdered in Lahore), Sikh musical instruments from early 1800s, and of course everyone’s favorite Laila — the favorite horse of Maharaja Ranjit Singh preserved in taxidermy. What was to come next was something I was not ready for. As I walked upstairs, the large room was filled with the Princess Bamba collection. My favorite was the huge painting The Sikh Court at Lahore by August Schoefft, circa 1840s — even though the painter reduced the Athdhara (8 doors) to a Panjdhara (5 doors), the splendor of this original painting in the Sikh psyche is etched forever and here I was standing in front of it covering one wall of a large room from top to bottom — wow!
The Sheesh Mahal (Palace of Mirrors) built by Emperor Shah Jahan in 1630s and the Naulakha (9 Lakh Rupees) Pavillon were grand buildings but my heart had already been stolen by the simple and elegant Athdhara. To the right of the Sheesh Mahal was a tall room — which was the personal Gurdwara (Sikh place of worship) of Sher-e-Panjab. The view from the Naulakha of the majestic Badshahi mosque and city of Lahore is breathtaking. I picked out a white Sikh-like building to its right. I had no idea then that it was the samadh (memorial) of Maharaja Ranjtit Singh. I dreamed of the fascinating view of Lahore from the Gurdwara room but would have to return later one evening for such a delight.
We then descended through the Haathipaer (elephant path) — the royal path taken by royalty on elephants to their private quarters. This is the way all who conquered the Lahore fort entered — as I descended these steps, I could almost hear the footsteps of the British soldiers that stormed in through this path to end the Lahore Darbar once and for all.
Shaheedan-dae-Sartaj (King of Martyrs)
As we exited the Lahore fort, I saw a small Sikh building to the left. I recognized it immediately — it was Gurdwara Dera Sahib where Siri Guru Arjan Sahib, the 5th Sikh Guru Sahib, was tortured and martyred by throwing him into the river Ravi on May 30, 1606. But there was no Ravi here now. Buddha Ravi — a tributary of Ravi river flowed by the fort walls then but since has dried up. The current Gurdwara building was constructed by Maharaja Ranjit Singh. A kar sewa Baba (volunteer religious group) is now building an ugly building around the original Gurdwara. A touching visit — taking vaak (reading) here of Siri Guru Granth Sahib, the Sikh scripture, was mesmerizing! After that I sat alone in the small room for 15 minutes. Sitting there I thought of Mian Mir who tried to intervene on his behalf with the Mughal rulers but was asked by Guru Sahib to accept the will of God. Then it dawned on me that this was the place and event which led Sikhs to bear arms and fight for the weak and the oppressed from then on to now. No feelings can describe what I felt — so I won’t describe them here.
Across from the small Shaheedi (Martyrdom) Gurdwara of the Fifth Guru was a large Gurdwara like building. I was told that it was not a Gurdwara but samadh (memorial) of Maharaja Ranjit Singh. It was quite surprising to me that the descendants of Maharaja Ranjit Singh would build a monument to him that was grander than that of the Shaheedan-dae-Sartaj — Siri Guru Arjan Sahib. After langar (Sikh community meal) as we headed out, I saw this enormous old gate to the Lahore Fort behind me — this was the infamous Roshnai (Light) Gate where Prince Naunihal Singh was murdered in 1840 as he returned from the funeral of his father. The intrigues of the Lahore Darbar were indeed scandalous…
The Gora Kabristan (White Cemetery)
By now it was late afternoon. My feet were more tired than the excitement so we ended up at the Gora Kabristan. Here in a Christian cemetery lay Princess Bamba — one of the last surviving members of the family that had ruled the Sikh Empire in Punjab. She died without a child on March 10, 1957 in Lahore and was buried here. She was the daughter of Maharaja Dhuleep Singh and the grand-daughter of Maharaja Ranjit Singh. I had seen her collection of priceless artifacts from the time of the Lahore Darbar earlier today on display at the Lahore Fort’s Princess Bamba Collection Museum.
The Line that Divides Us
After some rest, I set out to visit Wagah border between India and Pakistan. It was a short ride from Lahore. I remembered last time when I visited the same place but from the other side when I was hounded and jeered for not participating in patriotism of hate being displayed on the other side. Thousands were walking and biking towards the border as if there was a mela (village fair)there. I was welcomed with open arms and not even in China was I ever asked for so many selfies as that at Wagah Border on this day. As we watched the retreat ceremony of lowering of the flags of Pakistan and India, it was clear to me that an arbitrary line of the border had divided the heart of Punjab for too long — 72 years too long! There are decent people on both sides and this line continues to divide the common heritage of Chardha (rising sun)and Lehnda (setting sun) Punjab. I then pledged not to use East or West Punjab or Indian or Pakistani Punjab but talk about Chardha and Lehnda Punjab — one Punjab (Land of Five Rivers) whose heartbeat still lives in the hearts of mutual respect on both sides of the border.
The Light Shines through Darkness
By the time I returned to my hotel, it was late evening. After relaxing a bit, I decided to go out for dinner. I checked with my friend Jahandad Khan and he advised me not to go to Gawalmandi. But I decided to go anyway and chose not to tell him because he would get worried for me. I took an Uber to Gawalmandi — the Uber driver refused payment saying — you are our brother. Both places I ate at — Billa Pehalwan and Yusaf Faluda fed me for free!!! No where else in the world has it happened to me.
By now it was about 9pm. As I was eating dinner, I google mapped the street of my maternal ancestral home — it was only a 10 minute walk! So I walked alone in the dark with the stroll of a cautious adventurer. When I got to Ram Gali number 7 near Dalgiran Chownk, it was 10 pm already. Folks I talked with there knew nothing of any old Sikh homes on the street. So I called an Uber to return to hotel. Then 2 high school boys on a motorcycle came speeding to me saying we know of 2 Sikh homes on the street. So i jumped between the two boys on the motorcycle and off we went back. Uber could wait — this was too important. They parked in front of an abandoned house on Ram Gali number 7 and asked me to look at a name plaque on the top of the
front door. I remember cleaning the red sandstone plaque with my bare hands till I read my maternal grandfather’s name etched on it: Sodhi Dalip Singh son of Sodhi Kashmira Singh, July 1933. I was ecstatic and tears rolled down my eyes. By then half the neighborhood was on the street shouting: Sardarji found his Nanaji’s (maternal grandfather’s) home and everyone hugged me in joy. It reminded them of the homes they left forever in Chardha Punjab in 1947 during the bloody partition. One lady who came out was in tears. When I asked her what happened, she replied: I wish I could go to Amritsar to see my parent’s home. The pain and joy of the partition continues to live within us. The more we suppress it, the more it erupts.
Closing
That night as I lay in bed, I messaged all my relatives about how I found my maternal ancestral home at night walking all by myself with help of two teenagers who were probably too young to drive a motorcycle. They swooped me up and got me to that red sandstone plaque that waited for 72 years for someone to come claim it as its own.
For the next article, I will share my journey and experiences of more nostalgic exploration of Lahore ending at former Heera Mandi (Bazaar of Diamonds)— now food street overlooking Badshahi mosque.
