| A |
Ask any old resident of Anarkali about the place’s history and they will regale you with fascinating stories and anecdotes. But they all have one major grouse: the place has been left a shadow of its former self.
“Anarkali is not what it used to be,” said Mukhtar, the owner of a local restaurant. “People who visit [us] today are unlike those in the good old past.
“Anarkali was the only real shopping paradise in the entire Punjab, including the Indian side,” he added.
Everyone this scribe spoke to lamented the disappearance over time of green belts surrounding the bazaar. They missed the old trees, foliage, greenery, and early morning walks that were free of the toxic air pollutants that have unfortunately become the ‘hallmark’ of today’s Lahore. They also complained about the massive population, noise and heavy traffic.
People currently living in old Anarkali mostly settled here after the Partition. There are few families to be found who were native to the area from before 1947. “When we came here from Delhi, I was nine years old,” said Nadira, 79, now a grandmother of seven. “My father immediately fell in love with the place. He used to tell us that this was the place he’d love to spend the rest of my life at.
“As children who were coming in from all across the Indian Punjab and Kashmir, we owned the place as if we were born here.”
Talking about the state of Anarkali at the time, Nadira said, “Oh, the streets would be clean, and the street lights were always on at night. My parents would love to sit in the open and entertain their guests from the neighbourhood.”
The name Anarkali Bazaar evokes romantic notions about the place. One remembers Anarkali’s fabled association with the Mughal era, which may just all be fiction but it’s fascinating enough to interest the visitor or a reader of history. The legend of the beautiful courtesan Anarkali’s well reciprocated love for Prince Saleem remains a mystery that shrouds her tomb too. It is said that she was immured for having an affair with the prince, by his father, the great Mughal Emperor Akbar.
Interestingly, there is no mention of her in any of the royal accounts of the time or in the autobiographies/ biographies of the Mughal kings. But Anarkali inspired writers and theatre and film directors enough to dedicate entire stage plays and films to the royal love story.
| C |
Cultural heritage largely depends on how people remember, organise, think about, and use past stories to relate to present material. One can understand what values are at work by analysing what stories are being told.
“I clearly remember when my father and uncle took us to Anarkali’s tomb for the first time,” said Gul Bano, an elderly resident of the area. “A policeman on duty, a good friend of my uncle who was also in the police force, guided us to the tomb which is housed in a government office building. The place was dark and cold, and as a child, I felt sorry for her [Anarkali].”
The association of the royal courtesan Anarkali’s legend with the area has unmatched fascination for any visitors of the place, even if it remains contested. It was still a valid question mark when the bazaar was first named after her. Dr Anna Suvorova, a noted Russian orientalist and art critic, writes in her book, titled Lahore: Topophilia of Space and Place, that the name Anarkali (which literally means a pomegranate bud) began to be used for the streets and area in the vicinity of Anarkali’s tomb, circa 1850, when the British turned the place into a church.
The other marvel is its architectural heritage which is believed to be about 200 years old. “My grandfather would tell me that only the rich and famous visited the tomb,” said Mohammad Azhar, 73, a resident of the Purani Anarkali mohallah. “Everybody wasn’t welcome. The well-to-do would come to the place in their horse-drawn carriages, while their women in strict purdah would keep themselves busy shopping the merchandise brought to their doorstep by eager, well-dressed vendors.”
The old residents of Anarkali remember their elders telling them that the juncture of Anarkali and Ganpat Road used to be the most happening spot for the people of Lahore to gather and listen to the satirical verses, called qissas, by street singers, for 2 to 4 paisas per song.
“Those [satirical] verses mostly depicted the emerging modern political reality of the times,” recalled Mohammad Zaheer, 81, a resident of Street 9, Purani Anarkali mohallah. “The street performers were traditionally very well dressed, wore coloured lachas with long white shirts, and pair those with their turbans. They’d sing with great gusto, much to the listeners’ delight. I miss those activities!”
Many residents were of the view that until the early 1970s, Anarkali had attracted the gentry and liberal thinkers who liked to spend time there. There was a lot more to the place than just shopping. Top-end hotels, restaurants, and bars were the main attractions of the locality.
As Shah ji, the current owner of the historic Mohkam Din Bakery close to Neela Gumbad, put it, “Anarkali boasted top-class hotels which also had nightclubs and bars. These included the Imperial, Delhi Muslim and Central Hotels, where the gentry of the Punjab and Western UP liked to stay. Standard and Sher-i-Punjab were some of the top restaurants of the time.”
| P |
Purani Anarkali is a relic of Lahore’s glorious past, where the rich - traders and businessmen - previously lived. It was the city’s cultural epicenter. There was a time when its residents lived in harmony, regardless of their different religious and ethnic backgrounds. The place would come alive especially around Basant, and Shab-i-Baraat, and the two Eids every year. Love birds would meet secretly in moonlit nights on the roofs of the multi-storey buildings. Inside the buildings, mehfils (parties) were organised with great fervour.
Sadly, over the past few decades, Purani Anarkali has lost its cultural glory and splendour. But, it is also noticed that community members who once lived here and have now moved out still have a stake in the mohallah and aren’t ready to give up ownership of the place. Some even continue to run their businesses here. Tanweer, a goldsmith, is one such person. But he has concerns about how the place is shaping up. “This was a bazaar of the best goldsmiths in the country. The customers would come from as far off as the Middle East and China,” he said. “Not any longer.”
Then there are those who hold it against those who chose to leave their ancestral homes for the proverbial greener pastures. They believe that although the city has spread fast and modern housing societies have come up, Anarkali is still the best place to live. For them, the area has an intimate connection with its glorious past and still values togetherness, trustworthiness and friendly neighbourhood.
A majority of the residents of Purani Anarkali believe that social bonding with their place of origin renders their current and future generations less deviant and, thus, they could have greater self-control.
Roshan Ara, a retired nurse, who is based in the area, believes that it was “not easy for an outsider to get into our social space, as we’ve been living here together for ages. Our forefathers knew each other, and we have a very strong social bond.”
It is also observed that these people are greatly interested in engaging their current and future generations to serve their community. To quote Tanweer, again, “We are committed to each other. We share our sorrows, our happiness, and our love, and we participate in each other’s special occasions.”
Tanweer also spoke of the tradition of “helping each other financially whenever the need arises — on childbirths, deaths, marriage ceremonies etc. This is our way to show each other that we care.”
Among the traditions that are still alive, the residents like to sit out in the open at night and have conversations. “This is very important to us,” said Nafees, a tea stall owner. “It is a way of life for us. Also, it keeps us informed [about each other].
“We are generous hosts,” he continued. “We like to entertain guests and serve them the best foods. Besides, we enjoy good jokes. I can’t think of living in any other part of the world.”
| ‘ |
Ž‘Cognitive commitment’ is another factor for the great social bonding among the residents of Purani Anarkali. They know each other, and they understand each other’s emotional triggers.
It is also observed that they have a pretty rational calculation of the cost of the current and future social relationships among themselves. They are very close to their families, friends and the ambience and their upbringing. This is what makes them take their social bonds so seriously.
So, what happens when physical structures begin to get rusty; social traditions, norms and behaviours start to change; and social pressures get intense. To some, the social bond begins to weaken, as individuals become less dependent on their social groups. Evaluation belief gets frail and conventional orientation becomes less appealing to the young. The younger generation native to the area is clearly not quite integrated in their existing lifestyle.
Data shows that the population that migrated from the surrounding areas and India after Partition and settled in Anarkali, learned and adopted from the community members who had lived here for centuries. These new settlers subscribed to the values of the ‘social capital’.
| T |
The concept of heritage as identity is embodied in tangible features such as a doors, nomenclature, jharokhas, tharas, and vehras. In the words of Anis, a cobbler, “It’s like walking through history with a great sense of pride.”
Whether urban or rural, cultural heritage always represents the identity of different people, casts, tribes and populations, either singly or as one entity. It provides an identity of different units as a whole, in the shape of houses, streets, gallis and mohallas filled with life and joy. “To us, this is a worrisome indicator, but when we were young, we agreed and guess what? We are still here,” said Yousaf, a retired school headmaster currently running a tuition centre.
It’s an interesting fact that the crime rate in the area is minimal. Through their social bond and attachment with each other, the residents of Purani Anarkali unconsciously marginalise deviation. Their conventional activities are another social element to help reduce deviant tendencies. “There is no place for crime; if you do something wrong, you know very well that no one will help you, and you will get your due,” said Iqbal, a senior resident of the area.
“We have examples where a father handed over their delinquent sons to the police. That’s the beauty of our social bond.”
The structural element of the area is also quite impressive. An informal network is notable as the association of individuals is surprisingly cordial.
| V |
Values are ascribed to heritage sites by people, as opposed to being inherent in the materiality of places. Purani Anarkali’s residents belong to various creeds, and they may have varied educational backgrounds and adopt different professions, but they are largely born and raised in the same locality.
Another chunk of the population is that of the immigrants (from India) who share the same attachment and passion for the place. Social values, which include the “place attachment” aspect of heritage value, social cohesion, community identity and other feelings of affiliation that social groups (whether small and local or national in scale) derive from the specific heritage and environment characteristics of their “home” territory, is also visible among the residents of Purani Anarkali.
Living in the same area for long and getting used to its proximate is effortless, but it can also be deleterious. Their feelings towards people who have moved out and having negative views about them are the mark of their frustration with underestimating of their value and importance complex.
Lacking modern living standards is one shortcoming in keeping their social bond intact. This has resulted in frail evaluation beliefs and conventional orientation. It is less appealing to the young population of the area.
The writer is an educationist, cultural studiesscholar, local historian and film director. She iscurrently teaching at the Lahore School ofEconomics and can be reached atnaeemaarchadgmail.com