Category Archives: Lahore

Murder she wrote…

Madhusree Mukerjee’s new book is a shocking indictment of one of the West’s great idols, Saad Sarfraz Sheikh finds

A family sitting along the roadside, suffering from the famine in 1943

History remembers Winston Churchill as a valiant leader who saved the British Empire from near collapse during the Second World War. A multitude of books have been written in praise of his disciplined life, garlanding him with greatness: author Harold Evans called him “the British Lionheart on the ramparts of civilization”, mainly because of his World War II shenanigans.

But in Churchill’s Secret War, Madhusree Mukerjee reveals a man largely hidden from public view.

Churchill’s Secret War, By Madhusree Mukerjee, Basic Book Pulisher, Pages 366, Price Rs 2,495

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In 1943, 3 million Hindustanis perished in the Great Bengal Famine, one of the biggest manmade catastrophes of the twentieth century. While Mahatma Gandhi flirted with death by starving himself in protest, many others starved to death through no choice of their own. East Bengal was devastated by a cyclone through its coastal regions in October 1942, a tragedy that claimed thousands of lives and destroyed the autumn rice crops. Bengali peasants ate the rice that should have been planted that winter. When the hot weather came in May 1943, the rice crop, barely a fraction of what it should have been, failed to feed Bengal’s peasantry.

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Madhusree Mukerjee
Madhusree Mukerjee
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Mukerjee’s book relates frightening survival stories and exposes official papers to illustrate how Churchill and his men ‘created’ the Bengal Famine by diverting food supplies from starving Indians to well-stocked British soldiers around the world.

Matters got worse as the British Empire lost Burma, the main source of India’s rich imports. Within a month, starvation hit southeastern India like a dark plague. This did nothing to Churchill: when told in a telegram that people were perishing in the famine, Churchill’s only response to the government in Delhi was to ask why Gandhi hadn’t died yet during his fast.

 

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Churchill
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Churchill didn’t even bother with the long-floated idea that British imperialism benefited its subjects. “I hate Indians,” he told the Secretary of State for India, Leopold Amery. “They are a beastly people with a beastly religion.” “The famine was their own fault,” he declared at a war-cabinet meeting, attributing it to the Indian habit of “breeding like rabbits.”

He resolutely opposed all food shipments and emphasised that ships were “desperately needed” for the landings in Italy, which were slated for September, even though the Americans opposed the invasion. He felt that sending food to India would mean a loss of valuable transport.

Amery recalled: “I lost patience and couldn’t resist telling him that I didn’t see much difference between his outlook and Hitler’s.”

(Amery himself was no angel, having argued that India was “overpopulated” and that the best strategy was to “do nothing”.)

In her book Mukerjee relates how Indian grain was sent to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) even when it was unneeded. As Indian cities were littered with the bodies of those who had died of starvation, Australian wheat sailed past to depots in the Mediterranean and the Balkans; and the government ignored offers of American and Canadian food aid.

The Bengal government was unprepared; too much rice had already been shipped off to feed troops in the Middle East and Ceylon. With the hot weather rising, people began to die. By September relief centres were flooded with “rickety babies with arms and legs like sticks, nursing mothers with wrinkled faces; children with swollen faces and hollow-eyed… walking skeletons all of them” (Bayly and Harper, Forgotten Armies, 282-84, 288). Calcultta’s death rate in mid-October reached two thousand a month. British and American soldiers were horrified to step out of Calcutta cinemas and find people literally dying in the street, as vultures, crows and kites circled above.

Either the officials were too distracted (Bengal’s governor fell ill and died during the crisis, leaving an administrative vacuum) or were too slow to react; or they simply did not care, even as the magnitude of the disaster reached Biblical proportions.

The British Government had inflated local market prices to ensure supplies, making it unaffordable for ordinary Indians to purchase grain. India was disallowed from using its own ships to import food. Native officials were also to blame: Bengal’s Muslim League ministry failed miserably, while many of its Hindu members made huge profits trading in rice during the shortage.

India’s new viceroy, appointed the same year, called the Churchill government’s attitude to India “careless, vindictive and despicable.”

Nobel laureate Amartya Sen, a professor now at Harvard University, writes in The Friday Times 15th Anniversary edition that the nasty Bengal famine of 1943, which he witnessed as a child, was made viable not only by the lack of democracy in colonial India, but also by severe restrictions on reporting and criticism imposed on the Indian press, which isolated even the Parliament in Britain from the misery in British India. The British press in India voluntarily cooperated with the government. The famine received governmental acknowledgement and serious political attention only after Ian Stephens, the courageous editor of The Statesman of Calcutta (then British-owned), could not, in good conscience, comply any longer and decided to break ranks by publishing graphic accounts and stinging editorials on October 14 and 16, 1943. The parliament in Westminster then acquired a grip on reality, and famine relief – much delayed – at last began a few weeks later. The famine ended not long after that, but with the loss of more than 3 million lives.

Arthur Herman in his book Gandhi & Churchill says that the Bengal Famine signalled the severing of India’s last ties of loyalty to Britain.

As for Churchill: after Gandhi’s assasination, everyone including the assassins offered their condolences and regrets, but Churchill never published any tribute at the passing of his longtime rival. “An awful tragedy has already occurred,” he told the House of Commons, referring to the Partition. “At least 400,000 men and women have slaughtered each other in Punjab alone.” This number was greater, he pointed out, than all the losses of the British Empire in World War II. “Millions are fugitives, wanderers or exiles from their place of birth. We can only be thankful that no such catastrophe or anything which approached one twentieth part of its magnitude, fell upon the helpless Indian people during the long years they dwelt in peace and safety under the British Raj and Imperial Crown.”

An angry Labour MP rose to point out, correctly, that millions had died during the 1943 famine under Churchill’s watch. Churchill replied that under British rule, India’s population rose by 100 million and that there was a difference between failing to prevent food shortages and deliberate murder.

Churchill wanted to write history himself, hoping to be remembered as he cast himself till eternity. And for a while the myth lasted: in 1953 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature, and as recently as 2002 a BBC poll declared him the “greatest Briton” of all time.

But as power starts to shift once again, going now from West to East, it prompts fresh readings of the world’s history. Let us hope Madhusree Mukerjee’s book is the first of many.

Saad Sarfraz Sheikh is a photojournalist and percussionist based in Lahore. He writes at sssheikh.wordpress.com

 

Published in The Friday Times, July 22-28, 2011 – Vol. XXIII, No. 23

http://www.thefridaytimes.com/beta2/tft/article.php?issue=20110722&page=23

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Every move you make…

They watch you at all hours. Do you know who they are? Saad Sarfraz Sheikh goes after Pakistan’s Intelligent Sophisticated Individuals

Peeping Tom

They say they are everywhere. Yes, everywhere. They could be hiding under your bed, or listening to you and your wife complain about the increasing price of pampers. They could be watching you flirt with your secretary at work. They could smell your stinking socks while you sleep at night to ascertain what you did in the day. They’re even inside your laptop, monitoring every webpage you visit.

Spooks!

No, they’re not microscopic insects. They aren’t robots or super heroes either. They are, rather, Intelligently Sophisticated Individuals.

For the sake of brevity, let us employ an acronym.

Your mother could be an ISI. Haven’t you noticed how she keeps an eye on you? How often she goes through your pockets and asks weird questions about what seem to be non-issues?

Perhaps the neighbour’s dog is an ISI? Haven’t you seen how he doesn’t leave your trail, even for a second?

Wait, am I pointing fingers? Sorry! I don’t want my fingers to be broken

It turns out they could also be one of the saints of Multan, those revered beings to whom you turn after being “cursed with 7 daughters.” Have you heard about this one saint in Multan who has a small shrine in the heart of the cantonment? Legend has it that many people from Southern Punjab would visit him and seek his help in matters that ranged from choosing lottery tickets to getting their children married. The fakir, nestled in a cozy corner at a road intersection, would “bless his followers” and dance in a patched robe. After serving humanity in this way for decades, his power came to an abrupt end and he was buried at the very spot where he used to sit. It was only later that our intelligence agencies came to know the truth: the fakir was a RAW agent who had spied on the military in Multan, and his family in India did not want a burial but an “antim-sanskaar” for their dearly departed.

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This is just one of the many “intelligence failures” that have taken place in Pakistan’s history; and, as far as such failures go, it is a relatively harmless one. It’s a dinnertime joke compared to the big intelligence failure currently looking us in the face.

What happens when your own intelligence starts to play double games and pursue interests that are opposed to your own? If, instead of protecting the public by interpreting signals from foreign countries, a national intelligence agency starts to meddle in the internal political workings of the country, it no longer serves a useful role. Or, to put it another way, it stops being beneficial to the public and serves only itself.

Wait, am I pointing fingers? Sorry! I don’t want my fingers to be broken.

What do you do when the cops “go bad”? How do you react when governments are toppled, coups are carried out, the people’s representatives are assassinated and thousands go missing?

Your mother could be an ISI. Haven’t you noticed how she keeps an eye on you? How often she goes through your pockets and asks weird questions about what seem to be non-issues?

How do you feel when you find out that your so-called protectors, the people whose comfort and power is financed by your taxes, actually start to sleep with the enemy? (It’s come to the point where you can define ‘enemy’ however you like: our spooks are in bed with the Americans as well as the jihadis.)

More seriously, how do you as a citizen deal with what the intelligence agencies did in Bangladesh 40 years ago and are now doing in Balochistan?

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All over the world the ISI has come to be associated with deception, fear and murderous consequences. It is ironic that an institution built to gather “strategic intelligence” has now turned into a media regulator that “keeps a check on journalists” and specializes in kidnapping, torturing and killing those who seek the truth. To all those who ask for evidence, I cite only the statements and interviews of countless retired spooks who have admitted to the agency’s role in rigging elections, uniting and dividing political parties and “cleansing” the media. Such widespread manipulation has made a mess of the political process in Pakistan.

Meanwhile, dim-wits like Imran Khan are speaking cryptically of a “pre-planned conspiracy that is weakening the army and ISI”.

Really? Did Syed Saleem Shehzad, and the Chechen women in Kharotabad, and that poor kid in Karachi, all kill themselves deliberately to malign the singularly patriotic Pak Fauj?

Saad Sarfraz Sheikh is a photojournalist and musician based in Lahore. He writes at sssheikh.wordpress.com

Published in The Friday Times, July 08-14, 2011 – Vol. XXIII, No. 21

http://www.thefridaytimes.com/beta2/tft/article.php?issue=20110708&page=13

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Zinda dilaan-e-Purana Lahore!

Oh Lahore, what would you be without your old side?! A bunch of McDonald’s, Pizza Huts and KFC’s? The many Askari’s and DHA’s littered across the city? The true spirit surely lies in Old Lahore…

I fly into the ancient dust that surrounds the old city. My wings recognise the change in the air. I fly.

Burnt bricks, symmetrical walls, wrinkled men and lots of litter. Welcome to Old Lahore. A forgotten past, a faded story, visible ignorance. The walls are smeared with hate and the buildings look down at me. It’s just like any other day.

Along the colourful Vespa scooters that line up the wall of the walled city. Paras watches the alphabets fly off his type-writer. He is the forgotten few, the ignored illiterate, the unlucky uncouth, the poor peasant, the mistreated man.

Minutes later, Ashfaq rides into the narrow alley on his tonga. Does anyone need a ride?, he asks. In unison, they all thank him and happily point towards the assortment of motorcycles and cars parked across the road. Jobless!, he laughs to himself. Its back to transporting metal rods for him and his horse.

Susheela hasn’t had much luck either. She ties an ugly hair bun as she lurks along the road to the forbidden area. With summers, business hasn’t been good. Greased musicians tease her as she saunters down the alley, clapping furiously.

The Sitara Steel Band is one of the 300 bands that play at weddings. Band Master Ilyas hopes he that he will be able to fit his entire ensemble onto a noisy CNG rickshaw that seems to be overcharging. His wife says he is constantly out of tune and has been after him to sell his brass instruments as scrap rates. The journey for glory has brought nothing but disrespect.


Shakoor is worried. Everyday he needs 45 rupees to buy the cancer sticks he calls soota. He confidently explains that the soota eliminates his hunger for food and is more pleasing. All he worries is about where the next 45 rupees will come from. He says he is a malang, as he doesn’t ask for much, and doesn’t do much either.

Deewaron ke bhi kaan hotey hein?

The buildings are embarrassed and speak of unspoken tales. They open their doors in confusion and flap their windows in desperation. That is all that Old Lahore speaks of today, and not the yesterday that at once seemed to be brighter than the tomorrow we do not look forward to…

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Cacophonous carnage

Lahore was shaken and shattered on July 1, 2010, when the shrine of the patron saint of the subcontinent, Ali Hajveri Data Ganj Baksh, was attacked by two suicide bombers on Thursday. The resulting impact was clearly visible on the faces of all residents of ‘Data ki nagri’, Data’s city. It was a familiar site after the blasts outside the shrine’s complex, as endless decks and streams of frantic ambulances crowded the roads and lined along the pavement, awaiting orders.

Inside the shrine, shoes and clothes lay scattered on the floor. Complete pandemonium ensued, as the entire place smelt like a meat shop with body parts scattered on the ground, there was a murky layer of blood plastered on the marble floor, ugliness that would take weeks to clean, and many generations to forget.

Emergency officials scampered around the complex, screaming for more ambulances, as civil defence officials scavenged the remnants of the victims.

Officials rummaged and sifted through the rubble and filled cans full of ball bearings.

The Police also recovered remains of the suicide bombers.

Rescue 1122 and civil defence workers reached within 20 minutes of the blast. One could hear them calling out to each other, “Look, I found a watch, let’s send it to the morgue, it could help in identification purposes…”

Lahore’s violent and explosive past has trained them well. Barely a month ago, they were rescuing people from an attack on two Ahmaddiya worshipping places.

Thursday is the busiest night of the week as around 40-50,000 people frequent the shrine.

This Thursday it was no different, as the usual number of people settled themselves at the complex, unaware of the impending doom. They later drowned in a massive blood bath as a string of suicide attacks struck different parts of the complex.

CCTV footage clearly showed how the suicide bombers had penetrated the security gates. It showed bombers in their final moments before they blew themselves up. In the footage, a security guard at the shrine was seen chasing one of the bombers shortly before a huge blast, which sent crowds of panicked devotees fleeing in all directions. Salim Raza, a guard posted at an entry gate with a scanner, detected a suspicious man clad in a green turban, white robes and a shawl, carrying a bag. He ran after the suspected bomber who seconds later detonated his explosives, engulfing the site in a huge cloud of white smoke.

Entering through the same security gates later made one realise how two men wrecked the future of at least two hundred families, who had lost their brethren in the attacks. Doctors said they were expecting the death toll to rise, as the city’s main hospitals declared a state of emergency. Relatives poured into morgues and emergency wards to identify the survivors and victims.

Angry protesters waited in the darkness, building a mob around the complex, igniting whatever they could get their hands on. The Police were unable to control them, and resorted to firing to disperse the violent crowds, who had just damaged media vans and thrashed their employees for “lying to the masses” The firing caused further panic and confusion, as people ran in all directions.

Initial reports suggested the use of crackers/low intensity bombs, but as survivors ran for their lives leaving behind victims, it was clear that it was indeed a high grade bomb.

Data Darbar was the last place one could think of being attacked, but considering the fact that these terrorists wanted to cause maximum damage, using a carefully orchestrated attack strategy, it comes as no surprise.

Eye-witness at the shrine recalled the explosion as an intense one, and said that a majority of the victims were busy praying inside the complex.

A resident of Lahore said that they now had nowhere to go, as mosques and shrines were not safe anymore.

The lunger, which was stopped for the first time in history, was located in the basement, where volunteers were seen cooking large cauldrons of rice and vegetables in the past.

The Data Darbar administration stopped the distribution of free food among devotees, a tradition that has been a distinctive feature of the shrine for hundreds of years. “Free food was available 24 hours of the day for everyone, it had never been stopped under any circumstances,” said Jawad, a resident of Bhatti Gate area, a regular visitor. In addition to the devotees, free food was also a source of living for hundreds of labourers.”

Data Darbar Administrator Rao Fazalur Rahman, however, justified his decision to shut down the provision of free food. “The people associated with the preparation of lunger are in a state of shock,” he said, adding that lunger would be started as soon as the situation normalised.

The media carefully reported a lower death toll although from the blast site, it was evident that hundreds must have lost their lives.

The attack shut up those who still questioned whether these attackers were ‘Muslims’ or not, adding stead to the fact that all spheres of Muslim schools respected the Patron Saint of Lahore.

The Taliban were quick to deny and involvement and ‘condemned’ the attack, and ‘innocently’ announced that they never attacked ‘public places’…

It remains a mystery as to who did it, as no outfit has claimed responsibility till date.

The 3 day strike was widely followed, and traders estimated a business loss of Rs3 billion as all major markets and commercial shopping centres were shut. The loss of Rs3 billion did not include taxes and duties paid to the government.

“This is yet another blow for the city of Lahore. These bombings are further proof that there is only so much you can do to protect yourself. If someone is determined to blow themselves up, they will do it.” an official said.

Faded Glory: The tomb of Nadira Begum…

The tomb of Nadira Begum...

The tomb of Nadira Begum...

 Finding Nadira Begum’s Tomb isn’t hard since its right next to Sufi Saint Hazrat Mian Mir’s shrine.

 Nadira Saleem Banu was the wife of Mughal Prince Dara Shikoh, the ill-fated heir to Shah Jahan’s throne and the crown prince of his Indian empire.

She died in 1659, several months before Dara Shikoh execution, and was survived by two daughters. No sons survived thanks to Aurangzeb Alamgir, who got rid of all male threats.

Stories of Nadira Banu’s beauty and intelligence were famous throughout the empire. She was the daughter of Shah Jahan’s half-brother, Prince Perwez, and therefore Dara Shikoh’s cousin.

Her would-be husband Dara Shikoh was eager to marry her and had a good relationship with her throughout his turbulent life. He never remarried, in spite of the common Mughal practice of persistent polygamy and overflowing harems. Shah Jahan’s wife Mumtaz Mahal, Dara’s mother, arranged the marriage when both Dara and Nadira were teenagers.

Dara Shikoh’s sister Jahanara Begum got along with Nadira quite well, as reflected by her involvement and interest in Nadira’s wedding and her closeness to him.

With the death of Mumtaz Mahal, arrangements for the wedding died as Shah Jahan and his India plunged into mourning. After much coaxing by many, especially Jahanara, Shah Jahan resumed life and let her oversee the remaining aspects of the wedding. Jahanara had always visibly supported Dara over Aurengzeb and never hesitated in demonstrating that. Jahanara’s love for Dara strengthened her relationship with Nadira and after her death she left her fortune to one of Nadira’s daughters. Aurengzeb once openly asked Jahanara if she would support him in his bid for the crown but she refused. Despite this event and her undying loyalty to Dara, she was made the head of the harem in Aurengzeb’s court.

Aurangzeb, driven by his ambition and fanatical views, seized the throne and eventually defeated his moderate and secular brother Dara Shikoh, who was said to be tolerant, wise and admired. Two major wars were waged between them, Dara lost both. In 1659 he lost another war with fate while escaping to Dadhar (Balochistan) en route to Iran, when his wife Nadira Begam died of exhaustion and dysentery. Sunk in despair, Darà Shikoh dispatched his remaining soldiers to escort his beloved wife’s dead body to Lahore. In accordance with her wish to be buried in Hindustan, he instructed that she should be laid to rest near the shrine of his spiritual guide Hazrat Mian Mir. Dara was later arrested near the Bolan Pass by the forces of Aurangzeb Alamgir, he was taken to Delhi and executed.

It is interesting to note that moderates and extremists have always clashed in history. While Aurangzeb despised arts and had no love for mankind, his brother Dara was said to be a fine painter and poet.

Many of his works were collected and gifted to Nadira Begum in 1641. It was her affection for him that she cherished them until her death. Titled the ‘Dara Shikoh Album’, it was a collection of paintings and calligraphy assembled from the 1630s until his death.

After her death the album was taken into the royal library and the inscriptions connecting it with Dara Shikoh were deliberately erased; however not everything was vandalised and many calligraphy, scripts and paintings still bear his mark. Some of the surviving works were recently on display at a British museum.

Columnist Khalid Ahmed writes, “The tomb of Nadira Begum, the wife of Dara Shikoh is still popular with visitors as is the shrine of Mian Mir, the Muslim saint who laid the foundation of the Golden Temple in Amritsar. Mian Mir is immortalised by Dara’s book on him. Another Nadira Begum was the courtesan Anarkali, whom Akbar presumably killed for seducing his son.”

Unlike other Mughal tombs which have normally been constructed in the midst of gardens, Nadira Begum’s tomb is built amidst a water tank without a dome, which bears the flat parapet on all its four sides. In fact, these distinguished architectural features have made it look rather like a pavilion than a tomb. The tomb stands on a raised platform in the centre of a water tank, which was large enough to accomadate a lake. Encroachments have eaten away most of the tomb’s area during the course of history. During the British period, the tank was dismantled by a local contractor Mian Muhammad Sultan and its bricks were recycled in building the Lahore Cantonment. According to historians, the corners of the tank were marked with pavilions, while the lofty gateways provided access to the tomb from the north and south through a masonry bridge. The gateways no longer exist but most of the causeways can still be seen. The culverted bridge still stands on thirty arches. The 14′ wide central chamber is surrounded by an ambulatory in the form of vestibules. It greatly resembles the tank and baradari at Hiran Minar in Sheikhupura. A plinth ten-feet high from the surface of the tank, comprises the foundations of the tomb. Square on plan, the tomb on each side measures 44′ feet. It used to be a two storeyed structure and now has a height of 32′-6″from the grave platform. The height of the first storey is 13′ flanked by square headed apertures. The pavilion is constructed of burnt bricks and contains deep cusped arched openings. The central openings are arched, while those on the sides are flat. There are four arched openings on the ground floor in the interior around the grave and above them arches, exactly of the same type, are built in the upper storey. All these arched openings in both the storeys are cusped in design. Each of the openings in the lower storey is three feet four inches wide and six feet six inches high and that in the upper storey is three feet three inches wide and six feet high. An interesting feature of the openings is that all the eight corners of lower and upper storeys were executed skilfully by forming a small pavilion in each of the corners. All the four facades of the pavilion are decorated with blind cusped arches and panels. They contain projection over which rises the high parapet wall. The stairs for reaching the upper-storey and roof arc located at the south-east and north-east corners. The whole structure of the pavilion was lime plastered. As seen from the main elements forming the design of the pavilion, its structure was not a complex one. Its proportions also are as simple as its shape. The grave, which lies in the centre of the pavilion, is 6′ -10″ long, 2′-10″ wide and 1′-8″ high. There were small arched holes on the northern end of the grave on a raised portion for lighting up the area with oil lamps.

On the northern face of the grave Quranic verses are laid in marble slab in the pielra-dura technique in Naslaliq character, while on the southern end, Nadira Begum’s name and her date of demise is inscribed in the marble slab in the same design.

The façade at the top retains parapet. On the parapet wall, just on the roof level are four small arched openings, two each in the north and the south, which, if seen from outside appear that. Below the parapet, in the façade is a balcony in red sandstone. The roof built in vaulting is flat at the top except for a fascinating hexagonal platform of two feet height that is located in its centre. The roof and the platform are covered with thick lime plaster and lack any ornamentation. The tank around the pavilion, which was enclosed by a high wall, has been filled with earth and traces of its four walls are still visible. It was a very spacious tank square in shape, with each side being 580 feet long. There were fine gateways to the north and south. When there was water in the tank, the tomb seemed to be floating in water, its reflections creating the illusion of movement. Though isolated in this manner, its connection with the rest of the world is maintained by means of a causeway access in the east-west direction. The causeway bears 32 pointed arched openings and in addition to that there is one more opening in the centre of the causeway which was intentionally closed. That closed opening forms a beautiful square platform in the centre of the causeway, its each side being eleven feet and nine inches long. The causeway, which is in a deteriorating condition, is five feet and nine inches wide. The tank has now been developed in pretty lawns, bearing pathways. Numerous evergreen trees have also been planted in it and flowerbeds have also been prepared for seasonal flowers. This new arrangement has converted the area of the spacious tank into a beautiful park, an attractive spot for the inhabitants of the locality. But it has also made it into a sports ground where the causeways seem ideal for a cricket pitch!

In the interior of both the storeys, the ceilings and faces of the walls are decorated with the traditional Mughal architectural feature of Ghalib Kari, panels of various geometrical shapes, which bear traces of red, green and black colours. The use of Ghalib Kari ormuqarnas (stalactite squiches) for roofs and vaults are also employed internally. Though now faded, the traces are still beautiful. The colour scheme appears to be carried over the whole of its interior surface except for the trench of the upper storey which was brilliantly embellished with glazed tiles of multi-colours, traces of which are still evident. Although no tile-work is extant on the external façade, but traces of glazed tiles arc still evident in first floor interiors. Most of the tiles removed from the tomb are preserved now in the Lahore Museum.

In its early days, the tomb was an inspired achievement, the variety and distribution of its tonal value, the simplicity and scale of each clement and finally the carefully adjusted mass of the total conception showed the calibre of the Mughal architects at their best.

But today the tomb retains a simple and blank facade, shorn of all ornamentation. It is said to have been robbed of its costly marble and semi-precious stones during the Sikh period. It is very sad to note that like other Mughal monuments of Lahore, the beautiful tomb pavilion of Nadira Begum and its attached structures could not escape the vandalism of the Sikhs. During Ranjit Singh’s rule, the choicest material from the structure was removed, leaving it in a dilapidated condition. The tomb is also a victim of contemporary vandalism, as gaudy graffiti is visible on the structure with the ugly plague of wall chalking.

Since independence, its proper conservation has been ignored. The tomb was declared as a protected monument in 1956 and since then its responsibility for conservation lies with the Department of Archaeology and Museum.

In 1956, a comprehensive scheme was framed by the department for its repair and restoration. It seems nothing has happened since 1956.

Nadira Begum remains a silent spectator, watching cricket and soccer balls often being hit into her tomb.

She lies there in silent royalty, listening to the ghosts of the past talk about the faded glory of the Mughal Empire, which was at that time the richest empire in the world.

: View my Flickr Set on Nadira Begum’s Tomb at : http://www.flickr.com/photos/saadsarfraz/sets/72157622278655989/
An animated slideshow at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/saadsarfraz/sets/72157622278655989/show/

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