istorical graffiti, everyday graffiti and willful heritage vandalism are entirely different phenomena. While all these marks and engravings may appear to distort the surfaces and architectural details of historic sites, the purposes and intentions behind them vary—often originating from individuals and communities seeking to assert themselves, challenge authority or preserve memory. These signs on walls offer significant material for understanding how people registered their thoughts and emotions. For instance, Persian poetry scrawled alongside frescoes in some South Asian mosques reflects how travellers and pilgrims who stayed at these sites preserved their experiences.

The question of graffiti comes sharply into focus at Rohtas Fort, where many prominent locations have been defaced by names sprayed in oil-based paint. The fort itself housed a large village and many residents—whose families have lived there for generations—are now attempting to assert a sense of belonging, ownership and identity. Such markings, often dismissed as vandalism, could also be read as unsanctioned public art that communicates political, social or cultural messages.

Construction of Rohtas Fort began around 1541 CE, following the conquest of Rohtasgarh in Bihar. The name itself signals Sher Shah Suri’s east-to-west sweep across the subcontinent. Built primarily for administrative and military purposes, the fort’s construction was a resource-intensive effort. At one point, due to shortages of labour and building materials, Suri was said to have paid the price of gold for each stone. Erected on the banks of the Kahaan River, the fort served to deter attacks from local tribes and exert control over the region. Its elevated terrain made it nearly impossible to approach, a fact noted in Mughal records, European travellers’ accounts and historical chronicles.

Historians such as Irfan Habib have argued that Rohtas Fort played a central role not just in maintaining territorial control but also in securing vital trade routes to support Suri’s economic reforms. R Nath has interpreted the structure as an example of Suri’s military strategy to consolidate his rule from Delhi to Afghanistan. Professor Catherine B Asher notes that its location near key transit routes was a calculated move to counter Mughal ambitions. These varying perspectives cast Rohtas Fort as a strategic, architectural, political and military landmark of Suri rule—a 16th-Century engineering marvel that continues to yield insight into South Asian history.

Historians regard Rohtas Fort as a strategic, architectural and political landmark of the Suri rule—a fusion of multiple architectural traditions and a testament to the military strategies of Sher Shah Suri’s regime. The fort’s significance extends beyond its structure to the vibrant oral traditions that surround it. Locals from the Rohtas village often serve as tour guides, sharing historical anecdotes shaped by their own leanings and interpretations.

Eventually, it was abandoned altogether. The colonial gaze preserved the fort primarily through travelogues and documentation.

The colonial gaze misrepresented aspects of the fort’s history. For example, the prominent Sohail Gate is widely believed to have been the Zuhal Gate, named after the planet Zuhal (Saturn), which was visible in the sky during the gate’s construction.

Travel writer Salman Rashid has expressed deep admiration for Rohtas in his works Jhelum: The City of Vitasta and From Landi Kotal to Wagah. While not formal histories, his travel accounts break away from the constraints of conventional travel writing in Pakistan, weaving together folklore oral histories, colonial historiography, geographical insights, adventure, and photography.

A small museum within the fort—recently re-established and opened to public—houses a modest collection of artefacts. For years, an iron dustbin outside the museum was famously the only one in the entire Rohtas complex. It eventually rusted through and became unusable. Public toilets on-site remain insufficient for the volume of visitors and fall short of acceptable hygiene standards. These issues highlight the historical neglect and limited infrastructural investment by relevant authorities in managing the site for tourism.

Often described as embodying the “Suri architectural style,” Rohtas Fort exemplifies both grandeur and impregnability. Constructed on naturally defensible terrain, with towering bastions and formidable walls, the fort was designed to intimidate. Yet despite Sher Shah Suri’s strategic prowess, his empire did not withstand the tide of history—the Mughals returned to power, reclaiming control of the subcontinent.

Colonial rule redrew maps and introduced new administrative divisions. Present-day Jhelum was once a tehsil of Rohtas. Soon after the British takeover, Jhelum was developed into a cantonment. During the British colonial period, Rohtas Fort entered a phase of neglect and fell into abeyance, a stark contrast to its earlier prominence under the Mughals, the Suris and the empire of Ranjit Singh.

As colonial priorities shifted and new centres of power were established, the fort was repurposed—used at various times as a storage site and a stopover point for British officers. Eventually, it was abandoned altogether. The colonial gaze preserved the fort primarily through travelogues and documentation, framing it more as an object of curiosity than a site of continued strategic or cultural relevance.

Forts have historically served as centres of control, power consolidation and imperial ambition. They offer rich insights into past societies, military strategies and the political and cultural frameworks of their time. They anchor abstract historical narratives in physical form, providing a visceral experience of the past. Rohtas Fort continues to draw historical interest today, its towering walls still whispering stories of power, ambition and decline.

The writer is a historian, travel writer and translator. He researches on intellectual history, Persianate world connections and early Indian cinema