What no invader could do: A Visit to Marayam Zamani Mosque, Lahore in Aug 2016

Vandalism is Terrorism. In case of historical buildings and heritage artifacts, no other principle need apply. In our country, damage occurring to our centuries old heritage due to gross dereliction of duty by concerned officials is more than any one person can cause by an intentional act of inscribing ones name on a pillar or pulling out one odd brick or a tile from a wall. The former act of omission is a more damaging crime than the latter of commission. Negligent officials in this case must be treated with harsh laws and their unforgiving application, otherwise we, slowly but surely, stand to lose these precious structures. Does it matter whether damage occurs because of an explosive device or due to neglect and apathy? The resultant loss to our architectural wonders in both cases is of the equal magnitude and equally irreversible. On the 6th of this August, I was in Lahore and went round the inner city. I have been pained to see the state of Maryiam Zamani Mosque in Masti Gate. It is in a pathetic state of neglect. I took the pictures posted here to support what I am going to write. The mosque was built in the memory of one of the most powerful princesses of the entire Mughal era, the legendary Maharani Jodha Bai, the beloved wife of Emperor Jalaluddin Akbar the Great, the greatest of the Mughals and one of the most majestic rulers in the world history. I wonder if the officials of concerned provincial departments ever realize what kind of historic pearl has been entrusted to their care and visit the place to take stock of its plight. If they do and come back without taking any corrective action, they are committing a greater crime than a terrorist would. I only wish that I could pull the chain of justice erected by Emperor Jehangir, the original builder of the Mosque, to call his attention to the sorry state of the beautiful structure that he built to commemorate the memory of his mother. I am certain that in fullness of justice, Jahangir would have gladly ordered his Chief of Head Choppers to roll a few heads, starting with that of Mosque's current Imam, and closely followed by those of its entire management committee, if such an august body does exist. Flourishing societies, on a social ascent, preserve their heritage. Decaying societies, on a descent, on the other hand, squander theirs. The former understand that the treasures handed down by the ancestors are a trust with the current generation and have to be passed down to the next for the posterity. The latter, on the other hand, are not appreciative of the acts of genius performed by their forefathers and show a complete apathy to their legacy. They don't regard themselves responsible for the historic responsibilities that befall their shoulders. In the words of Iqbal, Waayena-kaami, mataa-e-kaarvaan jaata raha Kaarvaan key dil se, ehsaas-e-zyaan jaata raha What disappointment! (Not only that) The caravan’s assets are lost, The feeling of loss itself has faded from caravan’s heart. The Mosque is known by many names. It is called Maryam Zamani, after the Muslim name given to Rani Jodha Bi after her conversion to Islam at the time of her marriage. It is also called Begum Shahi, probably a people’s name, to emphasize its linkage to a royal princess. During the Sikh rule, and thereafter, it was known as Barood Khanay Wali Masjid , to signify its use at the time. The Mosque was used for ordnance making during the Sikh and our normally biased thinking may suggest that the Khalsa soldiers must have caused much damage to its structure but to the credit of the managers of the ordnance manufacturing, they did take care of their factory. The water pool in the centre of its courtyard, the marble minbar, the major and the minor mihrabs, the art work on the walls and the Gumbads are all in good shape. Even the small-bricked floor of the prayer hall shows little signs of being mishandled, though ordnance is heavy and employs metal casings. More tellingly, the beautiful calligraphic Quranic verses around the ‘mihrab’ were not erased by the infidels. The current sad state of the Mosque, as depicted below, is of our doing through sheer neglect and apathy. I have seen the Mosque during its better days. In 1959, I was admitted to class two in Municipal Committees Primary School, a “taa’t” school, located at the junction of Masti Gate Bazaar and Circular Road. The school, now a high school for girls with a better building, is located opposite to the Lahore Fort, across the Fort Road. We were living in Pani Wala Talab area in the ‘gali’ opposite to the Talab gate. I used to walk the short distance to and from school. Some of my classmates used to live along the route and I would have company, especially on the way back. I could choose to go either round the Talab enclosure, take the Fort road, past Barood Khana Bazaar, walk along with the Fort on my left and the Begum Shahi Mosque on the right, turn right in to Chuna Mandi Bazaar, and then turn left towards the Masti Gate to reach the school gate on my left; or I could exit our gali and turn right in front of the Talab, intercept Masti Gate Bazaar, go past the Sikh era Havelis behind the shops on my right and a little ahead, Begum Shahi Mosque behind the shops on my left to reach school. The Mosque was in a much better shape then and the area was much less commercialized. Moti Bazaar and Choona Mandi were inhabited but there was far less congestion and overcrowding that I saw now. Importantly, the scrap shops on the Fort Road, dealing in used tyre-rims were non-existent. Some of these shops lie adjacent to the rear wall of the Mosque. Even as school children, most of us were aware that it was a Mughal era structure with royal linkages. The realization seems to have been lost on the high sounding title holders entrusted with the upkeep of the Mosque and the people living around it. On my this trip, coming from Gumti Bazaar, round Pani Wala Talab, I wound my way through brisk business of the shoe-sole market around the Barood Khana Bazaar junction with the Fort Road. Crossing the Ali Park on the left, there is a line of used these rim shops on the right, going all the way up to the Circular Road. These shops are an overflow from the bus and truck stands of Badami Bagh on the northern side of the Circular Road, opposite Masti and Sheranwala Gates. The shops are also a strange anomaly and, perhaps, a reflection on our present day society. In the midst of, Mughal and Sikh era, grand, tasteful and royal structures, many of them fit to become part of world heritage, we have created a filthy, repulsive and squalid eye sore. I thought that its sight is more obscene than anything that the nearby Tibbi Gali has to offer. From the Fort road, I looked towards right side over the shops, trying to locate the blackish Gumbids. I found them concealed behind high stacks of the rusting rims amidst unimaginable filth. Fresh from a long trip to Australia, where they take pains to keep the heritage buildings, no more than a hundred years old, in their original state, I remained motionless for a long time with a heavy heart and embarrassed by our neglect. Then, to my horror, I saw a man coming from one of the shops, crossing the road, climbing over the metal fence surrounding the Fort and squatting against the Fort wall to answer the call of the nature (small one , I suppose). I cannot imagine beholding a more sorrowful sight. A little earlier I had seen goats grazing in the southern lawns of the Shahi Mosque and had thought that I had witnessed the worst of sacrileges. Hairaan Hoon, Dil Ko Ro'woon Ya Peetoon Jigar Ko Main; I am perplexed, should I mourn the loss of my heart or the mutilation of my liver. (Ghalib) I walked up to the Akbari Gate, which is in good shape, and took two right turns to stand in the Moti Bazaar in front of the Mosque gate. With shops covering the entire front of the structure, kiosks established on the short passage from the Bazaar to the main gate, motorcycles parked next to the Gate, semi dressed persons sitting on a hand driven trolley and torn papers strewn everywhere, the Mosque wears the look of complete indifference. The arched gate itself is of solid wood with a smaller door in the center to allow people in and out when the number of praying people is small. Inside, there is a raised covered marbled pool with stairs around it to allow people to sit on its side and perform ablution. This type of arrangement is found in all Mughal era mosques such as Shahi Mosque Lahore, Sunehri Masjid Lahore, Jamia Masjid Delhi, Shah Jahan Mosque Thatta and many more. I saw the pool empty with only stagnant rain water and speckles of omnipresent littering in it. Around the edges of the pool, a crudely laid out pipe network with faucets has been erected for ablution. It would have been wiser and more useful if the pool had been left alone and a large wash room built outside the mosque instead of mutilating its beauty. Someone from the Mosque management has drilled large metal hooks into the ceiling of the pool roof either to hang fans in summer or stretch tents in winter, though I didn’t any sign of either. A rusting iron stand was placed around the pool for some purpose adding to the dreary look. One of the most serious damages to the mosque has been caused by the need to supply electricity and electric appliances in the building. It was possible to undertake this enhancement with caution and prudence. The way it has been done beats logic and common sense. I am certain that there are plenty of electrical engineers who would have recommended a better way of laying out electric cables, installing fans and fixing lights. In the courtyard, the mosque management, on the other hand, has simply dug up holes in the marble floor, poured concrete, inserted steel pipes and ran the electric cables at the top. The tube lights frames have been drilled into the mosque walls. In the exquisitely laid out main prayer hall, hooks/nails have been drilled in the precious mosaic work and electric cables hung over the heads of the praying people. At regular intervals, high powered Compact Fluorescent Lamps (energy savers) hang from these cables. One of the worst atrocities is the pushing a ceiling fan through the centre of the main gumbid arch, as if a dagger has been pierced through the heart. Even the Sikhs did not indulge in such kind of mutilation. I fail to understand, as would my readers, what kind of Imams would order such a desecration. One can understand the colours fading away from the delicate mosaic work due to atmospheric effects over four centuries but the whole portions of parts of walls being washed away can only be deliberate work. The white patches appear extensively within and around the ‘mihrab’ and on the lower portions of many of the walls, including on the minor ‘mihrabs’ built on either side of the main ‘mihrab’. Even if we accept these decolorized portions as works of elements or Sikhs, placing a green coloured disintegrating wooden cupboard in the main ‘mihrab’, with bricks holding it from toppling over, can find no justification. Not only that, there are two crudely crafted murky hardboard mounted frames bearing the names of Allah and Muhammad (pbuh) fixed on top, and on either side, of the main ‘mihrab’. These frames are fit for a poorly maintained barber shop or an automobile workshop or a village ‘Kriana’ store but certainly not for a heritage building. On the right side facing the ‘mihrab’ is that ubiquitous 7-clock monster, now hanging in most mosques, indicating the timings for the five daily prayers, the weekly Friday prayer and the current time. Above the ‘mihrab’ is fixed another clock, this one electronic with digital display. All these items are fixed by driving nails in the nails. This amounts to crucifixion and not decoration. The worst was yet to come. I looked for stairs to climb on top of the building. I found the stairs on the right side of the main entrance. As I looked at them, I thought for a while that the stair-top has collapsed and the debris has piled on the staircase. Grudgingly, I took the first two steps and looked up left where the stair case turned. The state of all the stairs right till the top was the same. I cannot even describe in words what I witnessed. The at‘gumbads’ of the tached image shows that that loose debris has piled for such a long time that it has become hardened. I could clearly see narrow bricks that must be the original construction but decipher what is piling up on top of each step. This accumulation of muck has been taking place for a long time but no one has taken any preventive action. I couldn’t see clearly in the dark but the plastering from the stair well walls and roof may have been crumbling for the last many years. If that is the case, then there is an urgent need to undertake some sort of professional repair work. I climbed up with my naked feet, delicately planting them on the uneven loose surface, hovering over a thick bamboo broom, and stepped on the roof to witness a worse carnage. The easiest of way ruining a good structure is to let weeds and shrubs grow on its roof or the walls. The plant roots are very determined, sturdy and piercing beings that can penetrate the hardest of concretes. Unfortunately the roof of the mosque is replete with grass and weeds. A ‘peepal’ tree has taken firm roots in a niche in the base of the ‘gumbads’ and is sprouting healthy branches and leaves. Before long it will spread its roots all over the roof. Even now, it is in such a state of growth that it cannot be removed without damaging the already decaying roof. Evidently, the roof had not been cleaned in a long time. There were old pieces of clothing rotting within the muck spread all over. The Mosque has one large ‘gumbad’ with two smaller ‘gumbads’ on either side. All five have become black and gave me a feeling of being at the ‘gumbads’ of the ‘Babri’ mosque , before their destruction, because of the similar look. I didn’t go to the stairs on the left side but I have read somewhere that they are in a better shape. However, the plaque fixed and plastered on the wall above the pillar on the left side of the entrance to the prayer hall is shameful. I couldn’t take its picture but found one on the internet for this article. It says that 'Wahabis, Rafzis, Naturalists and Ahmadis are not allowed to enter and no one should speak against the Hanfi sect'. I leave it without comment. However, I must state for its perpetrators that, “You didn’t build this mosque for your narrow version of our great religion. You occupied it and are using it for your own purposes, just as the Sikhs before you occupied it and used it for their purposes. You have no right to reserve its exclusive use for one section of people. Please remove the plaque.” I will retrace a very brief amateurish historical background to the Mosque to re-emphasize the importance of its preservation. India was a leading industrialized country in the seventeenth century with its textile trade accounting for about 30% of the world market. The Mughals, along with the Ottomans, were the strongest and the richest empire on the planet, though the tide was turning in favour of Europeans due to their achievements in science and technology. The century was the golden period for the Mughal architecture. Shah Jahan was their most celebrated builder but the trend started with Akbar and continued till Aurangzeb, and there is no better testament to their combined genius than in Lahore in general, and in the short spread from Shahdara to Begum Shahi Mosque in particular . That was the time when the Indian Monarchs could think in terms of ‘the biggest and the most beautiful’ in the world. Taj Mahal was, or still is, the most beautiful architectural wonder in the world and the Badshahi Mosque was, at its formal opening in 1673, the biggest in the world. Emperor Jahangir built the mosque in memory of his mother. It lies barely 100 meters from the Akbari Gate and was built in an open vacant piece of land on the road to Delhi. From the roof of the Mosque, it is evident that it is built to facilitate an easy access for people coming from the Fort. The mosque is graceful and comely, just the correct tribute of a grieving son to his beloved mother. The mosque on the opposite side, built by Alamgir about 150 meters from the eponymous gate, is in contrast majestic and was meant to display the grandeur of an Emperor whose ambition was to bring the whole of the sub-continent under his control, a feat that no other ruler was able to perform before him but would be accomplished later by the British colonialists. In the time of Jahangir, there would have been no buildings between the Fort and the Mosque, as there is none between the Fort and the Badshahi Mosque. Ranjit Sigh’s Hazoori Bagh and Baradari were to come much later. It would have been fitting if the tyre-rim shops, between the Begum Shahi Mosque and the Fort Road, were not allowed to be built. The Mosque then could have been enclosed in a proper rectangular Mughal style garden, extending from the Fort road, to Chuna Mandi Bazaar, to Moti Bazaar and to its southern wall, for a total of about three to four thousand square yards. Sadly, mosques that I see in DHA, Cantonment and Bahria town are maintained in a far better manner. Some of the mosques built in Islamabad on contributions make one proud. If the government cannot look after this four centuries old marvel, it should be handed over to one of above mentioned organizations. I keep wondering, if this entire complex from Jahangir’s tomb to his mosque, had been located in a western world, how well they would have showcased it for tourists, with gardens and gift shops. Millions would have been visiting it from all over the world earning us billions of dollars. We are, however, an unfortunate nation and we Lahoris are a hapless lot. We used to celebrate basant with such a passion that the whole world made documentaries and wrote about it. Lahore would swell with tourists during that one night. Businesses prospered and the inner city dwellers made money renting out their roofs to the multinational companies for the event. It was the Carnival and the Mardi Gras of Lahore. We killed it. We have several historical wonders to feel proud about, yet we display total disregard to them. I can only hope that we treasure the blessings that have been bestowed on us. This article appeared in the weekly The Friday Times on 14th Oct 2016 Parvez Mahmood retired as a Group Captain from PAF and is now a software engineer. He lives in Islamabad and writes on social and historical issues. He can be reached at parvezmahmood53@gmail.com