Category: self-authored

i’ve been questioning the idea of borders and nationalism for a while now, ever since i started work on my film A Thin Wall more than 9 years ago. what a treat then to witness the posturing, chanting, and use of political slogans and spectacle at the flag lowering ceremony at the wagah border, between india and pakistan. it’s interesting to look across the decorative gate (called bab-e-azadi on the pakistani side, meaning the freedom door) and see india, with a stadium full of patriotic indians cheering their border security force. the pakistanis too play patriotic songs in the interlude to the ceremony, making sure that they are loud enough to drown out indian music. the pakistani rangers are impressive – inordinately tall, lithe and elegant in how they perform a perfectly choreographed ceremony. there’s a crowd warmer who times and orchestrates all the chants and a drummer who helps the audience keep its rhythm. quite an experience.

we took the rangeela rickshaw tour yesterday to explore lahore’s old walled city. the northwestern part of lahore was fortified by a hefty wall during mughal rule. there used to be 13 gates into the city – only 6 survive. the rest were demolished by the british in order to defortify lahore after the war of independence (which they still like to call a “mutiny”) in 1857.

old lahore breathes history. i’ve always loved everything about it – its narrow circuitous streets, spice markets, busy bazaars, ancient havelis with bamboo chick blinds and balconies carved with intricate, lacelike woodwork, its fruit vendors and ornate mosques, and the continued vigor of its people (many families have lived here for centuries). i was happy to learn that proper sewerage systems have been installed in many parts of the inner city and that power lines have gone underground. hope that important work continues.

i had already visited the wazir khan mosque, more than a decade ago. its vibrant images appear regularly in my work. built in the 17th century to enclose the tomb of sufi saint miran badshah, the mosque used to be part of a larger complex with stalls for calligraphers and bookbinders. it is embellished with stunning frescoes and tiles and elaborate persian motifs, such as cypress trees and star shaped flowers. architectural ornamented vaulting inspired by the alhambra (islamic spain) can also be found in the mosque. a true feast for the eyes.

what i enjoyed most on this guided tour were the shahi hammam (royal bathhouse) excavation of which has been completed recently and the life story of our guide.

right inside of delhi gate (one of the gates into lahore’s walled city, it used to open onto the only road that went from lahore to delhi – appropriately enough, there is a lahori gate in the old city of delhi), is the shahi hammam. built in 1635 by the then governor of lahore. in line with persian design, the bathhouse boasts plenty of natural sunlight via skylights placed in the center of dazzling high ceilings, heated floors, excellent ventilation, a dressing area, warm baths, and a sauna. pictures show what the baths must have looked like back in the day. stunning.

finally, i was extremely moved by the story of our guide, muhammad javed, who grew up in the walled city. he was born into a family of musicians and told us how he hated the word mirasi (genealogists and traditional singers and dancers in india and pakistan). it is a word that comes with a lot of caste baggage and is used as a pejorative in this part of the world. javed rebelled against this vile casteism and resisted becoming a tabla player in spite of the pressure from his father. he sold snacks, boiled eggs, newspapers, barbecued meat at various times in his life, but continued to go to school. he supplemented his income by tutoring other students and was able to graduate. he loves the history of inner city lahore and so became involved in tourism. he is now in the final stages of writing a book and his tours are requested by visiting heads of state. he has 4 kids and on top of teaching them urdu and english, he is also teaching them german, chinese and italian. he wants them to be active citizens of the world.

this is the kind of chutzpah and ambition that i love in the people of pakistan. our driver, who has been kindly taking us around the city, is the same. he lives alone in lahore and visits his family in gujranwala once or twice a month. whatever he makes he sends home. he and his wife are completely invested in the education of their two kids. they don’t just depend on schools. for example, they also teach their kids iqbal’s revolutionary poetry. how cool is that?

We spent yesterday visiting Jahangir’s Tomb and the Badshahi Mosque. Both are made of Lahore’s distinctive red sandstone, imposing in their scale, and harmonious in how they combine restraint with rhapsody. Jahangir, son of Akbar, was the fourth Mughal emperor to rule over the subcontinent. The construction of the mausoleum where he was eventually buried is mostly attributed to his son Shah Jahan, but many say it was, in fact, the vision of his wife Nur Jahan. It took 10 years to build, from 1627 to 1637. The exterior of the mausoleum is simple but its interior is alive with gorgeous frescoes, tile mosaic and marble work.

The tomb’s white, inlaid marble is exquisite. There is something sacred about the incredible amount of work it took to carve out and embed each petal and leaf with just the right shade or pattern of veined precious stone in order to create the most delicate, flowering arabesques. Heart-achingly beautiful calligraphy takes the form of black-marble inlay and expresses the ninety-nine names of Allah, in line with Islamic mystic traditions. A stunning visual poem, if ever there was one.

The Badshahi Mosque was built by Emperor Aurangzeb (1671-1673). It remained the largest mosque in the world for more than 300 years. Here too we find balance and symmetry, a rootedness that is expansive and serene. But again, there is the counterpoint of passageway opening onto passageway for what seems like eternity, of arches and windows affording us a million different angles, perspectives and points of view, of reflections on polished marble floors that continue to mirror reality forever. Not so simple and straightforward after all.

Lunch at Cuckoo’s Den in what used to be Lahore’s red light area.

delightful breakfast on our veranda this morning, with the sun warming us up ever so gently, a cacophony of local birdsong, the muffled sounds of early morning busyness gliding over a spill of plant and flower and kinnow tree, and our own chai walla 🙂