LAHORI GATE TO SUTTAR MANDI TO KUCHA BULO MAL –OUR HOUSE- IN OLD CITY OF LAHORE

LAHORI GATE TO SUTTAR MANDI TO KUCHA BULO MAL –OUR HOUSE- in old city of LAHORE

My Guide had done his reiki the previous days hence knew his way to our place. His brisk walking and keenness to reach the known destination made me miss few landmarks as explained by Uncle Mahender in his directions. His written note said “Go inside the Lahori Gate; continue until you reach a fork. Stay on the left side (do not go straight) for Suttar Mandi Chowk. There used to be sweet shop on the left side, Bauji used to purchase sweets every night while coming back from his shop around 9 p.m. By the way, the shop used to make my favorite Chaana Murki. After the partition, he opened the shop in Jalandhar to my great enjoyment and satisfaction. When you reach Suttar Mandi Chowk, you will notice that there are at least 4 streets radiating out of the Chowk. Continue onto the street on the right hand side to Vaccho Wali”.

I learnt from my Guide that Walled City(Androon Shehar) of Lahore had 13 gates: Akbari Gate, Bhati Gate, Delhi Gate, Kashmiri Gate, Lahori Gate, Masti Gate, Mochi Gate, Mori Gate, Roshnai Gate, Shahalmi Gate, Shairanwala Gate, Taxali Gate, and Yakki Gate. All of these gates survived until the 19th century. In an effort to defortify the city, the British demolished almost all of the gates except Roshnai Gate. Some were rebuilt in simple structures, except for Delhi Gate and Lahori Gate. The "Shahalmi Gate" was named after the son of the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb, Shah Alam I. Before his death, the gate was called the "Bherwala Gate." During the 1947 independence riots, the gate was burnt and today only the name survives. One of Lahore's biggest commercial markets, "Shah Alam Market," exists near the site of the gate, selling iron and related material.

Today, out of 13, only Bhati Gate, Delhi Gate, Kashmiri Gate, Lahori Gate, Roshnai Gate and Shairanwala Gate survive. Most of them were in urgent need of repair and restoration.

The "Lohari Gate” and not “Lahori Gate” as we know,is very close to "Bhati Gate." Like many other gates, it was built to keep enemies out. Although it is now surrounded by shops and stalls, it still has great architectural significance. In Pakistan after partition due to Urdu’s dominance they exchanged the placement of vowels. Moreover, loha means "iron," and the gate thus named Lohari because many lohars (blacksmiths) workshops were based just outside this gate.

At Lahori gate on the left hand side we saw shops selling fruits and on the right hand side florists sell variety of flowers -predominantly “Genda” Marigold flowers- and garlands made out of them. They cater to the needs of people calling on a “Muslim Masjid” (Mosque) besides Lahori Gate. As you move towards the gate, carts and hawkers are strategically placed, so that you cannot miss a collision course with them and pause a while to have peep into stuffs lying. Most glaring and out of place thing seen by me was mouse traps and rat poisons/cockroach killers of all kinds. An indication for me, a warning bell, of the decay and neglect expected ahead.Inside the arch of this gate , small rooms-originally meant for sentries(guards) were used as shops selling household wares and utility tools. Interestingly sugarcane cubes (Gunderi) were also prepared and sold over the counter.

The convoluted and unpainted walls around streets of the inner city remain almost intact, the “Lahori” bricks stead fasted, stuck to their place, even the rapid demolition and frequently illegal rebuilding taking place throughout the city could not affect them. Instead newer and inferior construction attracts attention as a cause for erosion of the historic fabric. The old houses in the city are usually two or three stories tall, with brick façades, flat roofs, richly carved wooden balconies and overhanging windows, all untended yet as stubborn and obstinate as Religious Fanatics.

Lahore's old city, with its narrow lanes, roadside stalls and decadent squalor vaguely resembles Old Delhi. In the old city, one catches a glimpse of the kind of poverty that is ubiquitous in the Muslim settlements(बस्ती) in India's big cities. Here you would see narrow streets, dark alleys, old houses, poor people, lots of carts, busy people, starving children. They somehow retained the stone paved roads of olden days thereby managing to keep history intact. Yet every now and then young guys are seen riding Honda/Yamaha motorcycles. Unlike India where the lower end motorcycle is powered by 125 cc engines, here in Lahore one see 70 to 75cc bikes loaded with heavyweight figures of Pakistanis with overflowing “Kurta” and “Salwar” make an interesting sight. In a way, the speed need not be checked as the under capacity drive works an ideal deterrent for speed. Uncle Madan Lal's word often crept in my mind, Bhapaji(Chander shekhar Mohlajee) would lift me on his shoulders and walk the streets of lahore. Now I was treading on the same stones that must have been pounded by my father and ancestors day in day out. Feelings that can hardly be described best said "a feeling of Deja vu'".

As per the list I should have encountered Favorite sweet shop-“Chaina Moorki” or “Chana Murgi”-instead I found that to be a Meat shop with overhanging Beef meat, denuded, blood exuding and dripping , a sight often disliked and detested by Hindu’s of pre partition days.

Finally we reached Suttar Mandi Chowk as my guide pointed to the place. Hardly a “chowk”-cross road- by definition it almost looked like 4 way coinciding alleys, trying to run each other over. The physical conditions in the walled city itself are in a serious state of decay. Electrical wiring is old and dangerous, loosely hung at times “Phanda”(loop) on the main line- a source of free power at the expense of electricity boards and the exchequer-could be seen everywhere. Water supply and street drainage lie at the root of most of the environmental and structural problems of the walled cities of this subcontinent. The water distribution network is very old and the pipes that are carrying water are all arranged through private connections. The result is lack of pressure. The existing sewerage consists of a system of open drains into which all the refuse are discharged. Heaps of garbage can be seen in every street and road of the walled city, creating both traffic and environmental problems.

The space left by emigrants from the old city then got filled by commercial interests, mostly small scale manufacturers and wholesalers. The advantages for commercial interests were the readily available cheap labour, as well as relative anonymity, which facilitated the evasion of most national and local taxation. This led to more commercial development mainly because of the absence of enforcement of building regulations and cheap plots. An analogy can be easily drawn with Indian old cities that have dominant muslim population and similar socio-economic fabric.

Natural gas pipeline works undertaken by the Government with the help of program called SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT OF WALLED CITY (SDWCL) was the only difference I could see between Jumma Masjid/ Ajmeri Gate of areas old New Delhi and Lahore Shehar.

I was told that population in walled city averages about 1100 persons per hectare, compared to about 160 persons per hectare in the rest of the metropolitan area. The building stock in the walled city has not increased in over a hundred years. Plot sizes are extremely small with average size of 40 square meters. The average household size is nearly seven persons and one third of the population lives in single room units.

Anyway, these talks made me exhausted and thankfully my guide stopped dead in front of our Lane” Kucha Bulo Mal”. Uncle Mahender’s word kept ringing in my ears “Continuing on, the 3rd gali on the right hand side is Kucha Bullo Mal. There are 2 Kucha Bullo Mals. If you face the gali with probably 2 steps and irongate, on your back will be a Haveli with a store underneath on side. That was our Kucha Bullo Mal”. My happiness was unbounded to see the Iron Gate (remnant hinges clinging to the side pillars) and leading 3-4 steps up to the lane. Exactly the way described. To check further I looked backward and found a big “haveli” (Mansion) that had a tailoring shop next to its entrance. To satisfy me, our Guide asked the Tailor, Is it Kucha Bulo Mal? Alike all Lahoris he gave a smile and enquired about us. My guide told him that this guest is from India coming here in search of his roots especially to see his ancestral properties. Next Question “ Are you Hindu or Muslim?”. No I am Punjabi Lahori Brahman and Hindu. He immediately rose with one leg holding onto his clutch and tried to pull me inside his shop. To avoid embarrassment I volunteered myself to enter and sit on an old chair. “Bauji(Sir) Tussi ithe rehnde si” (You lived here?). “No No! Mere Dadaji rehnde see naal mere Bauji vi”(My grandparents and my father lived here) I said. He exchanged few pleasantries in the name of Allah and praised the lord for all he giveth and then smiled at me reassuringly. “Fikar na karo twanoon Ghar dikhawan ga pehlan cha sha ho jai”. No worries I shall lead you to the house first have a cup of tea. He raised his voice looking nowhere to say “Oye! Mundya ja mehmana laiye kuch ley ke aa” (Oh Boy! Go and fetch something for our guests). There came “Pink Tea” leaving me with no choice but to drink. After the formalities and exchange of information with pleasantries about my ancestors, he rose and led us towards the house as Uncle’s directions popped every now and then “Continue inside the “gali”(lane). On the left hand side is a covered well. Our house was the second house past the well. The entry door was a double door, probably 4’-6” to 5’-00 wide. It was set 2 or more steps above the” gali” level”.

Forget the well(not to be seen) this person stood right in front of the house described so vividly by Uncle that came alive in front of my eyes. The left side of the entrance had a Ayala (Niche) as usual in earlier days for lighting of “diya”(lamp) in the evenings.

“If you do go inside, as you reach the ground floor (which is up 4+ steps), the room on the right side is the one Papaji used to sleep in during the winters. During day time, it was used by ladies as a drawing room”. Yes! The room was very much there. I shall describe it later.

Tayaji’s( Shiv Narain Mohlajee V-2)Floor and Shiv kumar Mohlajee’s study.

He further directed “If you do venture upstairs, at the first mid level there was a small room which was by Shiv bhai’s study room”. Well it was exactly as he described except that Saddi Uncle’s/Shiv Bhai ( Shiv Kumar Mohlajee) study became kitchen for the present incumbent where a big size chapatti was being roasted on LPG gas stove. His room was actually a recess-a balcony covered. Perhaps this very room fermented in him a famous photographer as sight from the window outside must have given him many a views and fertile imagination.

Mahender Uncle’s words kept coming back “The first floor was the living space for Bade Tayaji (Shiv narain Mohlajee) and family, with its own kitchen, pujasthan in a recessed built-in almirah, drawing/ eating/ winter sleeping areas.”

The present incumbent had kept the house in a good shape with wall papers plastered all over and presented a typical lower middle income group show with color TV in the drawing room, colorful PAK ceiling fans- let me tell you they are as sturdy as any Russian equipment but power guzzlers, highly uneconomical and drain on electrical resource. An opening in the ceiling was covered by a camouflaged sheet. This must be "Magh" dumbwaiter of those days, a means of commuting and transferring things from ground floor to the floors up. Two big shelves besides fireplace were covered differently, one with curtain and the other with wooden doors. The fire place was more like a dummy, and used as a mantle with record player on top. A window, opening to the other side, overlooking a Shiv Mandir behind (Maybe that was Mohalla Mohlian) could be seen. The hall looked big as the intermediate wall was removed to give it an open look.

The dining room had a refrigerator, microwave oven, toaster, washing machine and even sewing machine neatly placed with wash basin in the corner. A niche (made later) was evident above this dining area and I was invited to go up the ladder for a peep. The person with moustache in the video is the tailor who led us to the house.

I think this was a place where BadeTayaji and family would sit over a “dari”-rug on the floor and have food served on a thali laid over wooden stool. This reminds of a very fascinating and amusing sight of my great grandmother ( Karam devi V-1) having her food. I must have been less than 5 years in age, watching this military drill; elaborate and precise; during my frequent visits to Gandparents home at Motinagar New Delhi. The floor would be sprinkled with water (if she had her ways with Holy Ganges water) and wiped clean. Two wooden stools were laid for her one with large thali (plate) and other covered with rug for her to sit. She would then come down from her bed, a frail lady would be transformed into a ferocious fighter who would utter no words and express only in symbols (I was told it is customary not to speak while eating food). She would first wash her hands-check me someone if I am wrong- and sprinkle the water around the thali, recite some prayers. She would then take one bite and leave it aside or give to someone- I am not very sure- to start her food intake. The call for a chapatti or dish or water would be invariably through sign language well known to my grandmother who in fact would anticipate her needs. Once in a while she would err to have a violent reprimand in signage from the Grand lady. As the “Parpota” (great grandson) and naughty one, it used to be my endeavor to make her speak or utter some words. Initially it was relished by some, and then persistent nagging on my part became a nuisance of sorts, which was best avoided by drawing me away on some pretext or the other. On occasions I would imitate her style but failed to match her discipline of “no talk”, personal hygiene and utterance of hymns. All these thoughts came in a flourish and vanished as they came. Amazing! How memories have a way of playing hide and seek with you.