Written by: Ibrahim Younus
Posted on: July 09, 2018 | | 中文
A historical enclave exists in the heart of Lahore, with its countenance mainly constituting of the iconic Badshahi Mosque and the elegant Minar-e-Pakistan. However, if you stand close to the eastern wall of Aurangzeb’s architectural marvel, you may notice a gleaming golden minar atop a white dome - the minar of the Samadhi (mausoleum) of the infamous “Sher-e-Punjab,” Ranjit Singh. Whilst the mausoleum is dwarfed by the mosque, it is not wanting in terms of history, serving as a constant reminder of diversity and defiance.
Ranjit Singh is a figure of paramount importance amongst Sikhs. By signing treaties with the Englishmen, defeating the Afghans and consolidating the 12 Sikh misls (clans), Ranjit Singh formed a Sikh Empire in Northern Punjab (1801-1839), which he ruled until his death. Due to his stabilizing influence in the period, after Ahmad Shah Abdali wreaked havoc in Punjab, he managed to develop a prosperous state. The construction of his mausoleum was started by his eldest son, Kharak Singh, in the early 19th century, and it was eventually completed in 1848 by his youngest son, Duleep Singh.
Ushered by Ehtesham, a long-serving employee who has inherited the position from his grandfather, I advanced in great anticipation towards the Samadhi. An exterior of white and yellow domes and arches testified that the interior would be equally grand. The Samadhi stands adjacent to the Gurdwara of Guru Arjun Dev, the fifth Sikh Guru, with access granted exclusively to Sikhs only. The Gurdwara itself is an eye-catching structure, constructed mainly out of chalkstone, covered with engravings, and distinguished by a gold tip. However, nowadays it is being renovated, which means that the Samadhi steals the show.
After ascending a flight of stairs, the entrance was towards the left, where the towering walls of the Badshahi Mosque play the role of a common separator. Observing Sikh tradition, it is customary to leave footwear at the entrance. Next, one comes across a quadrangle of pristine water, surrounded by marble embankments. After submerging both feet inside the water for purely sanitary purposes, we headed towards the polished brown doors standing under a white alcove. Here, we had to don a bandana like cloth to cover our hair- an imperative obligation for Sikhs, as it is considered a necessary prerequisite for maintaining equality and showing respect.
Upon entering through the doors, one faces the simple yet imposing marble slab that marks the resting place of the imperious ruler. An old fashioned chandelier hangs above two kirpans (swords) lain across each other. The marble slab is covered by a bright pink cloth, embroidered with blue and green leaves, and with golden seams. Mohammedan designs can be seen on the pillars on all four sides, adding merit to a claim of potential plundering by Ranjit Singh of the Lahore Fort, for constructing his own dwellings. Across the front two pillars hangs a crown and a chain, glistening in the afternoon light, inanimate yet alive. Convex mirror mosaic work dominates the designs on the ceilings. Elevated stages have been provided for Sikhs who visit every Sunday, to pray in congregation by reciting shlokas (poetic verses).
Proceeding further, we reached the terrace. Here, two identically designed buildings in the classic Sikh colour combination of white and gold, housed the urns of eight wives and four concubines of Ranjit Singh. The urns lie under a worn out white stone, with lotus shaped containers which vary in size according to the devotion of the wife or concubine in question. Paramours were usually given a lower status. Two containers are dedicated to two pigeons, which died during the self-immolation of Ranjit’s wives. Staring down at these from the ceiling above, is the face of the Hindu deity Devi (Great goddess), carved between the shining rays of the sun.
After completing the round, we proceeded back to our starting point, and I was led down a staircase on the opposite side of the entrance. This short descent led to the Roshnai Gate, which was constructed by the Mughal Emperor Jehangir, and now serves to separate the Mosque from the Samadhi. On this side of the Samadhi, there were engravings depicting Ganesh and Brahma in red sand stone, showcasing Hindu influence in the design of the site as well.
Towards the backside, a series of living quarters lie in the shadow of the Samadhi. There were accommodations on the right, left and lower portions of the Samadhi, for Sikh visitors who wish to stay a while. Traversing through these areas, I realized that these parts were poorly maintained, and after a while it became clear why: shortage of staff. I encountered only one caretaker named Gulshan, who has been working at the site for half a decade. There was a complete absence of guides, as the solitary one who has been given this privilege was not present. This forced the previously mentioned Ehtesham to accompany me, even though his duties primarily concern security of the site. One hopes that the Evacuee Trust Board, responsible for the maintenance of the site, takes note of these issues.
Ranjit Singh’s permanent role in shaping the history of the subcontinent is ultimately what his Samadhi symbolizes. There is bad blood historically between Muslims and Sikhs but the walls of this ancient mausoleum narrate a different conclusion; they lecture on mutual respect rather than animosity. Under the scorching sun, I observed the labourers, Sikhs and Muslims alike, repairing the Gurdwara, all seemingly toiling away in unison. It dawned on me that the members of staff I met at the Samadhi were all Muslims too and they spoke with reverent awe about their work. As I pondered on this, the Asar Azaan blared from the mosque and the Sikh flag seemed to fervently reply, by fluttering under a sky vast enough for both to harmoniously coexist.
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