A Lahore photograph by Akram Varraich
A city that’s a theme for a dream
AS the old Punjabi adage goes, the one who has not seen Lahore is yet to be born. This was the phrase used by Asghar Wajahat for his play Jis Lahore Nahi Wekheya O' Janmeya Nahi. Set against the backdrop of the Partition riots, this play was made famous in a production by famed theatre director, Habib Tanvir. With the division of Punjab in 1947, East Punjab lost its capital. The new-grown city of Chandigarh could not quite fill the gap. East Punjab was indeed poorer without Lahore. Can one think of Bengal without Kolkata? The same goes for Punjab and Lahore.
Founded probably between the first and seventh century of the Christian era, Lahore saw the Hindu rule in the beginning, the Mughals, the Sikhs and the British. Now it is the prized city of Pakistan. Way back in the days of the Raj, it used to be called the Paris of Asia. That glamour lingers even in the rather conservative Islamic Pakistan. The Lahoris will proudly say, "Fashion starts from Lahore and then reaches Karachi." For someone like me who had read and heard so much about this city, a visit to Lahore has to it a sense of deja vu. There in the middle of the passing traffic in the heart of the city stands the Lakshmi Mansion where the great storyteller of Urdu, Saadat Hasan Manto, used to stay. The building still boasts of a faded little signboard that says Saadat Hasan Manto Yahan rehate thhe. Go a little further and one sees the board of the Tea House that was a favourite haunt of Manto and other progressive writers. Sadly, it has been closed down.
A popular Punjabi song celebrates the city thus: Mainu Lahore di sair kara de ve, Main na tere ton kujh hore mangadi. The girl pleads to her love that he should take her around Lahore city and she will ask for nothing more. And once one starts Lahore di sair, one realises that the woman who penned this song was no fool. The city is simply enchanting. The first evening in Lahore, with Punjabi writer Zubair Ahmed as guide, starts with some soulful singing of Sufi music at the Lahore Chitarkar Art Centre in Gulberg and then on to the Food Street. Well, the Food Street at Gawalmandi is certainly picturesque and quite Parisian in its concept. The old havelis with arched balconies and bamboo blinds are lit up and the street is closed to traffic in the evenings. The shops lay the tables out in the street and the fare is a gourmet's delight and the gourmand's rhapsody. After a delicious non-vegetarian meal, one can sweeten the mouth with phirni served the Jama Masjid-style in flat earthen bowls. Now it is not Punjabi prejudice, believe me the Gawalmandi phirni is far more tasty. Zubair tells me that the reason for this is that it is made of the pure 'n' rich Punjab milk. Well, he is probably right. In Delhi now nothing is pure, not even the air.
Lahore di sair can last a lifetime for there is so much to see. Now I realise the import of the folk song quoted above in which roaming Lahore is all that the belle asks of her love. Clever girl, she designed it such that they be together a lifetime. Some of my most exciting moments are in the Bano Bazar at Anarkali buying lawn and chikan suits and eating Russian salad sold in small kiosks. The Punjab University ( there the Punjab is spelt with a U) buildings and the Government College buildings stand handsome by the road. The expanse of the Shai Masjid is thrilling and the ceramic tiles that panel the Masjid Wazir Khan are a delight to the eye. The fort and the palace known as Takht Lahore are very dear to the Punjabi psyche for that is where Maharja Ranjit Singh ruled.
The sojourn through the city is not complete unless one has seen the museum and the two famous gardens. Mughal emperor Shahjahan laid out the Shalamar gardens on the Amritsar 1637. The garden has lost much of its original glory and land. The Lawrence Gardens adjoining the Mall are still glorious. Laid out in 1868, it has innumerable species of exotic tropical trees. Many of the trees have seen hundred or more years and stood like sentinels of the sorrows of the people for as the song of the old folks goes— Rukh chandre bhaide na bolade vey dukh tera sab jaanade. (Although the trees cannot speak, thjey know of all your sorrows). The Ravi too sobs on. The smallest of the Punjab rivers, it is further shrunk in the waters' dispute between the two Punjabs that fall in two different countries called Hindustan and Pakistan. When the visa says one can stay no more, one returns full of Lahore. Now it is time to share the experience. I write to my poet friend Amarjit Chandan, who lives in London and has had greater access to Lahore than we have had. He writes back underlining the reason for the lure of Lahore: "There is something magical about Lahore that does every Punjabi proud. Of course, the Ravi has dried up but once the borders are pulled down, the water will flow into it as it did for hundreds of years. Is this wishful or better still ‘Punjabiful’ thinking that celebrated the city thus in song, Ucha burj Lahore da; Heth vage dariya. (Tower of the fort stands tall; Down below the river flows) .
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