Written by: Asif Nawaz
Posted on: June 12, 2019 | 
| 中文
Omar Hayat Palace
The city of Chiniot in Punjab, with a meagre population of about 0.2 million people, lies on the bank of the River Chenab, and is known far and wide for its opulent woodwork and wealthy traders. Its distinct art of carpentry is hailed by all who see it, and it’s not uncommon for people from Faisalabad or Lahore to get their furniture made in Chiniot. The furniture, considered a status symbol, is often used to embellish homes, and also given away as dowry. However, it wasn’t the furniture my friends and I were in Chiniot for, with our vehicle surviving against all odds in the old alleyways that catered unnaturally to all sorts of vehicles. We were in search of a far greater ornament: the Omar Hayat Palace. And as the palace made its first appearance after a dull path of cramped surroundings, it was a sight to behold. The palace with all its grandeur and splendour seemed a bit misplaced in the humble neighbourhood. But it is so rare to spot such a beautiful building anywhere, that the trip to Chiniot was a success already.
The Omar Hayat Palace Library, also known as Gulzar Manzil, is amongst the most notable sites of interest in Chiniot, and its history has become something of a legend. It was built by Sheikh Omar Hayat, a Chinioti, who later settled in Calcutta after marrying against his family’s wishes. It was in Calcutta, the biggest city and economic hub of India, that Hayat became a wealthy businessman. In the early 20th century, Hayat had a son named Gulzar, and decided to return to Chiniot. To mark his return to the city of his birth, he ordered the construction of the palace, which was to be an architectural wonder few had seen before. From 1923 – 1935, the palace took about 12 years to complete, and cost about 400,000 rupees at the time. According to some architects, experienced artisans were given the task of designing, executing and building this architectural wonder in Mughal revival style. When the five-storied building was completed, everyone was awestruck by its intricate woodwork, incredible frescoes, and impressive stuccos, so much so, that the District Gazetteer of Jhang described it as a “local wonder” in 1930.
The joy, however, was not to last long. In the same year that Sheikh Omar Hayat shifted to this palace, he died. Two years later, his son Gulzar was all set to be married in the palace, and the occasion called for an extravagant celebration. The marriage ceremony took place, and it was an event many of the attendees would remember for a lifetime, for the next morning Gulzar was found dead in his room. He was buried within the same palace, where his grieving mother was also laid to rest after a few years. Thereafter, the palace was considered cursed, and was abandoned by the family. No one claimed it, and such an architectural gem was neglected and allowed to decay.
After the servants of the palace left, it was used as a madrassa in the 1940s. Following the creation of Pakistan, an orphanage was set up there, but would eventually re-locate in 1950. For the major part of the following decades, the palace saw extreme vandalism, embezzlement of decorative emblems, occupation by various qabza mafias, negligence and natural disasters among other things. In the 70s, the upper two storeys of the palace were officially demolished to prevent the sudden and calamitous collapse of the building. There definitely seemed to be a curse.
In 1989, the Deputy Commissioner of Jhang, Muhammad Athar Tahir, took the building in official custody. Along with the Assistant Commissioner Amjad Saqib, Tahir was successful in removing the encroachments, and restoring and renovating the place. They set up a library, museum and a cultural centre in the building. It was a success at first, showcasing a varied collection of books, local art and ornaments and subscription of various dailies, including newspapers and magazines, was secured. However, before the end of the decade, the local administration decided that they had no funds for continuing this project; and the building once again began to be neglected.
When I visited the Omar Hayat Palace, I could not help but be spellbound by its beauty and history. Rarely does one find buildings this picturesque. There’s so much to discover in the palace, with its wonderfully detailed work. Every single piece of work in the building has a story to tell about the heart and sweat put in its construction. On the ceilings, there are carvings of buildings in Calcutta, while the Munabat Kari (stucco tracery) of the Jharokas (balconies) reminded me of the long gone royal splendour.
It still functions as a library, but readers are seldom found there. The books are either gathering dust behind locked shelves, or neatly placed inside a forgotten reading room. There’s no ticket to visit the site, and the tourists rarely grace the Mahal with their presence. The upper storeys, especially, are in urgent need of attention; and we may be on the verge of losing such a masterpiece if help doesn’t arrive soon. According to the librarian, talks are underway between the district administration and other institutions for the maintenance of this building, and I hope that yields results. Until then, the Omar Hayat Palace still deserves a visit for its beauty and its tales of misfortune.
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