“These heated floors were walked by the royalty, the Mughals, to take a royal bath,” said Javed, the tour guide, barely able to conceal his excitement.

Muhammad Javed, a resident of the Walled City, has been giving guided tours for more than two decades. He is now the official tour guide employed by the Walled City Authority. The animated talk, the agile walk, the grand gestures are not merely the requirement of his trade but a reflection of his pride in his heritage.

“Ladies and gentlemen you are amongst the first to see a portion of the original Shahi Hamam, The Royal Baths, just inside the Delhi Darwaza. What you see today had been hidden under mounds of earth and a marble floor for a long time, till the Walled City Authority started excavating and discovered the layers beneath. Now you can see what was previously known to us only through travel books and journals.”

Our party, a mix of local and foreign visitors looked at the excavation site: a labyrinth of stairs and walkways, about 21 rooms that provided bathing facilities for both royalty and the general public, a system of three furnaces fed by coal, channels of hot and cold water, heated floors — all this and more had been covered by a marble floor. Awe struck at the sight of these layers of landings and floors, cordoned off by wavy tin panels, I was thinking of another floor, another panel. A raised platform at the Alhamra Art Gallery, the occasion: LLF; the topic, ‘Fixing the Androon: Reimagining Old Lahore’.

On the panel, an architect reimagined old Lahore by imagining a brand new wall around the old walled city on contemporary lines just as in the 1960s someone had imagined a marble floor atop the Hamam. A lady, apparently an expert on urban development, on this same panel hailed it as nothing short of a revelation from the realm of the divine. Of course, the cost would be astronomical but how can you question the cost of “fixing our Androon”.

A walk through the Old Walled City evokes feelings of pride and belonging

Why was Javed not on this panel? He would have told them about the perfectly aligned channels, the intact stairways and heated floors that needed no fixing. Javed would have shown them this Androon that needed neither imagining, nor reimagining it anew but revelling in its revelations, journeys through its entrails, unearthing its undiscovered treasures. But he was not there; there was a screen showing a computerised version of this new wall. I had heard and seen enough and was about to leave when I had heard a voice of reason; a voice that said that the Androon shehr does not need architects but historians, scholars, writers and archaeologists.

Restoration work at the Royal Bath

This was none other than the master himself, Nayyer Ali Dada, whose architectural strokes embellish the canvas of both old and new Lahore. Defying his own craft, his astute observation spoke of a man of vision within the confines of rationality.

But wait, he was not alone; there was another: “I do not subscribe to the view that all is lost, there is a lot to be saved.”

This voice went on to explain how during his travels he had seen countries preserve and cherish their heritage; they neither deface it nor impose utopian super structures on the original. Termed as a realist, Mr Kamran Lashari and his department “The Walled City Authority” had envisioned the walled city not just from the ground up but from the underground up. Most of the work done in Androon Lahore by the Wall City Authority is not visible.

I know that for a fact. A few months ago a gentleman from the inner city who had settled abroad was visiting Pakistan after more than a decade. He wanted to revive his memories of the Lahore Fort and Badshahi Mosque.

“Would you not like to see the inner city, Delhi Darwaza and beyond?” I asked.

He looked at me in bewilderment and said, “I don’t have the right footwear.’

Looking at his spotless but comfortable looking moccasins, I said, “They look fine to me.”

A skylight in the beautiful high ceiling takes care of natural light in the interior

“No, but if I had an extra pair I could replace the wet ones,” he said.

Now it was my turn to look bewildered. “We are not wading through the causeways; we are walking on solid ground.”

“I don’t mind causeways or rainwater puddles, but it was only later that we realised it was water from overflowing open sewage drains!” he said.

“Don’t worry, just come along, you may be in for a surprise,” I reassured him.

I cannot forget his amazement at the entire underground sewage system, the dry streets — no squatters, on open drains.

“It does not even smell anymore; I remember the stench was unbearable,” he said as he ducked for the umpteenth time.

I could not help but ask why he kept ducking.

Old habit he said, “even as kids the dangling wires kept smacking our faces. Our mothers would scream from balconies that if we weren’t careful we would be toast. But I only just realised that even with my six feet frame there are no wires I need to duck from. I can actually walk with my head held high.”

“Yes nothing smacks your face except for the occasional fly or mosquito. Even they have become extinct with the disappearance of their natural habitat,” I said

“But all else is still the same, the jarokas, and balconies, the narrow streets, this feels like home.”

How can we even think that all is lost? How could we think of denying him pride in his home and heritage?

A view of the Royal Bath

Back at the panel discussion: I had lost most of the conversation in reminiscing, but came back with a show of hands of people who wanted to lend those raised hands to the project of fixing the Androon. I just wondered: were not these the wrong set of hands? The hands that had the real stake were not there, they were within the walled city.

Mr Jehangir has two such hands; sitting on his front porch, he no longer has the agile body of yester years that climbed the flights of stairs with ease. I remembered the words of Sultan Shoaib Khan, the legend of the Rural Support Programme. I went to him with a proposal once which I imagined was nothing short of a miraculous solution for the alleviation of poverty in a small community. He looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Is it what you want for them or is it what they want for themselves? Because if it is the former it will be unsustainable but if it the later it will flourish; go revisit your community, engage them.”

It seemed the Walled City Authority had taken the advice of Sultan sahib. They had conversations with the locals and catered to the little things they wanted. Mr Jehangir takes care of his restored Haveli and takes pride in it, at 80 plus he is an energetic supporter of the Walled City Projects, but what convinced him was the making of a brand new toilet on the ground floor. He no longer has to climb those flights of stairs to relieve himself and shows off this marvel of modern engineering and its flushing system. But he also marvels at his restored Haveli and revels in the admiration it attracts; on a good day he will treat you to verses of romantic poetry.

Relocation may not always be the answer but creating awareness for the residents to take pride in their heritage is. It is not just the bricks, the jorokas and balconies that make Androon Lahore; it is not just these freshly excavated bathing enclaves; it is as much the people and their craft, their pride and adoration, it is that particular lifestyle that makes the Androon shehr viable and vibrant.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, April 26th, 2015

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