Recently, I stumbled upon a magnificently ornate book on Mughal Architecture titled “Lahore: History and Architecture of Mughal Monuments” by Anjum Rehmani. A deep delve into the influences and achievements throughout the Mughal period, starting from pre-Mughal history, the book explored new aspects of Lahore that I had yet to see around me. In comparison to the almost fantastical seeming portraits of beauty and splendor described, my Lahore seemed dreary, lifeless and dull. Where were the multi-colored frescoes with Nastaliq calligraphy? Where were the red brick structures thought to keep families cool under the scorching sun in June? Where were the fountains with fresh water circulating over pristine white marble pools? 

The Lahore I live in is a decrepit place—for the most part, ignoring the picket fence blocks of DHA and Bahria Town—with potholes, bumpy roads, crumbling buildings and trash on the sidewalks. As such, the Lahore of this book seemed to be the setting for a historical movie to me: grand, imposing and beautiful. Now, our city may noy be grand or imposing, but it still retains some of its beauty. A hardy kind of beauty, like the beauty of devastated, used, old things. Lahore has always been the City of Love, a romantic city in its arches and bricks and balconies, only now the love seems to be tragic. In this article, I traced the major developments in Lahore’s architectural landscape, in a bid to understand more of Lahore’s disjointed appearance and how Lahore, the City of Gardens and the City of Lahore, became the Lahore I now live in. 

Pre-Mughal India

Before we discuss Mughal architecture, it’s imperative to understand how the Mughals came to settle in the subcontinent and the influences that shaped Mughal culture and architecture. A Turk by ethnicity, Babur originally hailed from Fergana, the Central Asian province of his birth. During his conquests, he had seen Kabul as well and longed to return there. Sher Shah Suri forcibly expelled the Mughal King Humayun from India, and he spent 15 years in exile in Persia, from where he was able to recover control of India. As a result, across the Mughal Empire, Persian influences from cities like Isfahan and Shiraz took root. Notably, Humayun was mesmerized by Persia and its sophisticated culture while he was living in exile in Iran; he brought back two artists whose miniature paintings became a cornerstone of Mughal Architecture. Thus began the tradition of the royal painters’ atelier with one hundred artists being under the tutelage of Mir Sayyid Ali and Abdus Samad. From stills of courtly life to blooming flora to scenes of battle, miniature paintings went on to chronicle Mughal reign till the very end. Furthermore, Persian Nastaliq calligraphy, sloping downwards from left to right, used mainly for Quranic scripture, became a favorite of the Mughals’. We can still see this calligraphy everywhere in Lahore, used on teacher ads pasted on electricity poles, on dhaba boards and on truck art. 

Mughal Architecture 

As the Mughals were influenced by various regions and hailed from lands foreign to India, the architecture commissioned during their reign is varied, unique and at times, distinctly Islamic. Characterized by symmetry, intricate ornamentation and Islamic geometry, these mausoleums, mosques and tombs made use of pointed arches, bulbous domes and striking minarets. One such example in Lahore is Dai Anga Mosque, constructed in 1635 by Shah Jahan in loving memory of his eponymous wet nurse. The mosque’s domes are decorated with pronounced cavettos, a concave moulding roughly resembling a quarter circle. Mosaic Kashi Kari, a Persian style of tile mosaic, is also used extensively to decorate the exterior as well as interior facades. 

Furthermore, another aspect of Mughal architecture important to consider with relation to Lahore is the construction of gardens in the Charbagh style. Etymologically, the word paradise originated from the Persian word Pairidaēza meaning “walled garden”. Taking inspiration from Persia once again, the Charbagh style of gardens features a quadrangular structure, meaning split into four parts, with fruit trees, shrubs and flower beds interwoven in symmetrical patterns and imposing pavilions. As the first garden in this style was constructed by Babur, who famously abhorred the Indian climate and the lack of fruits, these fruit-giving and shade-giving trees carefully selected and planted served practical purposes as well. Shalimar Bagh in Lahore, finished during Shah Jahan’s reign, is divided into three levels:  Hayat Baksh (Benefactor of Life), Faiz Baksh (Benefactor of Goodness) and Farah Baksh (Benefactor of Pleasure). In total, there are 410 fountains in these gardens along with 5 water cascades; the harmony of natural elements in these gardens is carefully constructed in the likeness of the Garden of Eden. Shalimar Bagh however, is not immune to corruption. The last time I visited the sprawling gardens, the water ran murky, none of the fountains were functional and tourists had defaced many of the walls. 

Colonial Architecture

With the subcontinent fully under the control of the British, Palladian Architecture, a strictly European style, was followed, as seen in the hallowed Lawrence and Montgomery Halls, with its stately pillars, white facade and austere symmetry. Fun fact: the British engineer behind this building believed that all of his creations must positively drip with ‘Englishness’. And drip, they did. 

However, after the 1857 revolt, a new era of Architecture, the Mughal Gothic or Indo-Gothic, an amalgamation of Mughal and Victorian architecture, came into being. The Mughal Gothic was used as a tool for garnering local support and integrating British culture with that of the ousted Mughals. The Mughal Gothic Architecture involved spires, scalloped arches, vaulted roofs, minarets, Jali or perforated stone screens and bulbous domes. A Mughal Gothic building we’re all familiar with (against our will, at times) is Aitchison College, with its open pavilions, cusped arches and red brick structure. 

Furthermore, the British also significantly changed the blueprint of housing. During the Mughal reign, traditional havelis were adjacent houses which opened directly onto the street, with central courtyards, arched windows, and Jali latticework. Usually several stories tall, all rooms in the haveli faced towards the courtyard, open to the sky, which provided fresh air, sunlight and communal space. With the British came bungalows, which were outward-facing, situated in the middle of the plot land, and had outdoor communal spaces such as verandahs and lawns, unlike the haveli. The haveli also features heavily in star-crossed historical dramas, like Aangan (2018) and Dastaan (2010)—it is no wonder both dramas feature pining love, the yearning that is pronounced by averting gazes behind curtains of stone, resting against pillars, clandestinely watching  from a Jharoka.

The present architecture of Lahore is a long tale of woe, as globalization has erased most cultural architecture aspects from our modern homes, as cement replaces brick and continental styles of housing replace any influences of ‘old’ Lahore. Historical buildings such as the Lahore Fort are increasingly damaged due to mismanagement, neglect and weathering. Moreover, Lahore’s architecture reflects our perception of being ‘modern’, being affluent and being successful; our internalized inferiority is a relic of colonialism as we always perceive our traditional culture as outdated, mediocre, and lesser. Just as in the times of the British, a bungalow meant that you were living the best possible life, a Spanish or Italian villa in one of the few elite (and clean) housing societies now means that you have made it. Once hailed for its lush, green gardens, and romantic facade, Lahore has lost much of its color, and its grandness. 

By Fajr Rauf
Editor-In-Chief (2023-2024)

Note: the views expressed in the article solely belong to the writer and do not reflect TLC.