As we walk through Jahangir’s dilapidated quadrangle in the Lahore Fort after witnessing the wreck that Kharak Singh’s ‘haveli’ has become, observing the terrible condition of the archives of the excavations of our great Ghandhara Civilisation, and the falling roof of the emperor’s pavilion at the northern end, one begins to be aware of a terrible tragedy slowly unfolding. But the worst was yet to come.

After spending a considerable time talking to Punjab Archaeological Department officials, one begins to realise that they are really not bothered. I pick my way through the confusion to enter the quadrangle garden of Shah Jehan’s Diwan-e-Khas, whose exquisite pavilion is a world stunner. The floor, renowned for its marble work, is beginning to give way, and the beautiful roof has a small hole that seems to be, because of neglect, opening up. To the left corner is the Lal Burj, now in an advance state of decay.

I move on towards the Khilwat Khana. In front are the passages that lead to the mysterious dungeons of the Lahore Fort. I have never been able to understand just why they have not been set up to show the people what went on there. In these dark alleys emperors, princes, saints and gurus were locked up, victims of rulers over the ages. There are stories few places on earth possess. The problem is that no plan has ever been drawn up to repair and conserve this critical portion of the fort. No historian has devoted time to research the history of the dungeon. In another piece I will narrate the story of the mysterious skeleton in chains, the miracles of Guru Arjan Dev when made to lie on live coal, and the terrible condition in which Aurangzeb kept his sister.

But as we walk along we see that the pavilion has a gaping hole in the roof, the walls have Christian chapel paintings, the work of East India Company officials, and the missing bricks of apartments built during Sikh rule. The British were no saints when it came to destroying historical monuments. I walk through the side and enter the outer courtyard of the Sheesh Mahal complex, correctly called the ‘Shah Burj’. The entrance gates still have the gaudy enamel paint brickwork put up to impress Islamic Summit guests. The centre court has an open well that led to the massive dungeon network that runs below this part of the fort. Then we enter the Sheesh Mahal complex itself.

The first pavilion is the world’s finest, the Naulakha, originally built without a hinge or trace of lime plaster. It is without doubt a stunner and a World Heritage Site for good reason. The marble used is exquisite and the ‘jalli’ work amazing. The precious stones used in the floral designs can be seen in small traces, with the remaining stolen over the ages. Every era has its scoundrels. Of all the buildings in the Lahore Fort, this one remains relatively safe from the neglect that this historic place faces.

I turn to the masterpiece, the Sheesh Mahal – the palace of mirrors -, a glorious sight it is, for this is the fort’s centre piece. This was the royal area where the emperor, or ruler, stayed and held court. This area was built in the middle of the Akbar era and given its final shape in 1632 by Emperor Shah Jehan. This semi-octagonal structure has a façade with five cusped arches exquisitely decorated with pietra dura, convex glass and mirror mosaic. This is probably unrivaled in the entire subcontinent, though later on attempts were made to copy it at Agra Fort.

The roof of the central hall originally had two storeys, with the central hall roof having floral paintings in gold and silver leaf finishes. The Sikh period saw major changes with Maharajah Ranjit Singh using the roof as a ‘harem’ where he would sit in style and display the ‘Koh-e-Noor’ jewel. The additional building added in Sikh and British days added considerably to the dead weight of the structure. This led to the plaster of the roof falling down in 1905, exposing the decaying wooden beams that held it together.

In 1925 the first conservation work was carried out to save this historic structure. With time even this collapsed. In 2006 with foreign assistance this structure and its roof were again restored. But then again in 2013 the roof began to wear away at one point. When I visited it last week a major portion of the roof was giving way. Though the roof top has reasonable waterproofing, yet moisture seems to be seeping through. It is a dead weight issue. To keep visitors from entering the building, a railing has been set up. Why let visitors in if they cannot see the beauty of the Sheesh Mahal?

The one place I had never been was the ‘burj’ where Maharajah Ranjit Singh used to sit every morning allegedly listening to all the various scriptures. It is a steep climb and not for the faint-hearted, for a ladder is need for the final ascend. From atop he must have had a complete look at the city with his ‘single eye’.

As a young reporter I had the rare privilege of seeing the setting for the Islamic Summit Banquet in the Sheesh Mahal. The floor was redone, and let me say done very well in marble with the original floral design. As I stood looking in horror at the collapsing roof, I wondered at just what was wrong with the ‘protectors’ of the fort. It seems that this UNESCO World Heritage Site has no meaning for our archaeology department. If anything this is one place that needs immediate attention.

The question after my three-part series on the Lahore Fort brings forth the proposition: “Do we want to save the Lahore Fort from total decay and collapse?” I am sure all our readers will say a big loud ‘Yes’, but end up doing nothing. The extremist sub-culture of hate that pervades our country has relegated historic monuments to an ‘unwanted’ status. If our home-grown extremists had their way they would probably bomb the place down. Fear, and collective illiteracy, makes us take a step back. Then there is a deadly silence.

What do the people of Lahore want to do with their historic fort? If the answer is nothing, then just wait and let it erode, decay and die away. That process is very much on. But if the answer is a ‘Yes’, then some call to action is needed. Let the world’s finest Islamic conservation experts handle the project. Let the LWCA set up a special project for this historic monument. The more the delay the worse will things get. One only hopes this is not a call in the callous emptiness that has become our cultural landscape.

Published in Dawn, December 28th, 2014