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Despite the fact that the city of Lahore is the second largest in Pakistan and epitomises Mughal grandeur at its most imposing, it is an endearing city. Easy-going, charming, cosmopolitan, the atmosphere is relaxed and hospitable. Through the trees shading the elegant, wide boulevards leading into Lahore, I could see vestiges of the British Empire – once splendid mansions and spacious bungalows in large gardens, some of them now a trifle ramshackle. We passed whole families perched precariously on scooters, and billboards painted in psychedelic colours featuring politicians trying to look affable. Everywhere, from the Old City bazaar to receptions in private houses, I noticed that purdah is by no means as strict as in other areas of Pakistan. If chaddars, or cloaks, were worn at all, they swung open to reveal chic clothes, their owners not only exhibiting outward signs of emancipation such as make-up, but also occupying authoritative positions in the professions and business.

One could argue that this openness of spirit is the result of invasion and rule by a procession of hordes and dynasties. Or could it be the fact that the city is the provincial capital of Punjab, homebase of the warm-hearted yet dignified Punjabi people, as open to new ideas as they are loyal to their complex and ancient values system – and each other, in a spirit of equality and brotherhood?

Certainly Lahore is ancient. Legend has it that the city was founded around 4,000 years ago by Loh, son of a mythical figure; and there are remnants of a subterranean temple in the Royal Fort attributed to Loh’s father. But archaeological digs have only uncovered artefacts that officially date back to the 6th century. Its very name may be a derivation of Loh-awar, meaning ‘fort as strong as iron’. A serious hazard in the guessing-game is the number of names Lahore has had – the Greek traveller Ptolemy referred to it as Labokla.

The golden age
Mughal domination

Strategically positioned on the main trade and invasion routes to the subcontinent, Lahore’s recorded history began when the Shahi kingdom was conquered by Mahmud of Ghazni. So began Islamic rule of the city, opening 150 years of development both physical (it shifted from a small town to the official capital of the province), commercial, cultural and military, so that by 1206, when Qutubud din Aibak was crowned, he became the first Sultan of the subcontinent and Lahore, capital of the Empire.

No visible trace has survived of what must have been a glorious period, as for the next 250 years Lahore dropped out of sight and history, the victim of an unhappy sequence of attack, devastation and abandonment. Yet Lahore’s golden age was at hand, in which the Mughal dynasty built a city of such splendour that even two
subsequent centuries of pillage and neglect could not destroy its legacy of architectural and aesthetic supremacy.

In the early 16th century Babur founded one of the most magnificent empires in history, and for 200 years Lahore was a centre of excellence in many spheres. Babur’s son, the emperor Akbar, made it his capital from 1584 to 1598; it was described by his court chronicler, Abul Fazi, as “the resort of people of all nations and a centre of extensive commerce. In the shortest time great armies can be collected there, and ammunitions of war in any quantity can be procured for the use of troops.” Lahore was not just the backdrop for courtly poetry and triumphs of artisanship – it was heavily fortified as the springboard of a conquering empire.

Palaces and pietra dura
Dazzling craftsmanship

Most people start their exploration of the city at the Royal Fort. Dominating Lahore on its ten metre-high stone bastions, the fort is the supreme architectural achievement of Akbar the Great. Having demolished an old mud fortification, he built a rectangular brick citadel around 1566. Though most parts of it were constructed during his reign, every succeeding Mughal emperor, as well as the Sikhs and the British, have in turn added palaces, pavilions and gardens.

A symphony of ochre sandstone, glittering white marble and jewel-like pietra dura stonework inlaid in floral patterns, the fort complex contains the Shish Mahal, the Palace of Mirrors, which was built by Shah Jahan as a home for his empress. Little golden-toned mirrors in arabesque mosaics totally smother the walls and ceiling of the large central room. Leading off this extraordinary confection of light and reflection are nine smaller rooms with their own glorious marquetry ceilings. The windows are marble screens, jails carved with great delicacy into floral and geometric designs.
Among the variety to admire at the Royal Fort is the ceramic wall outside the Shah Burj Gate to the Fort. Lively, amusing and idiosyncratic tile mosaics illustrate Mughal court life, punctuated by wonderful abstract designs. Two blue elephants lock trunks against a yellow backdrop, angels soar upwards on azure wings and polo ponies joust. To this day, pigeons flutter in and out of the little cotes created for them on this massive façade.

From the Royal Fort’s Alamgiri Gate I walked across to the Badshahi Masjid, a mosque built by Aurangzeb, one of the few Mughal emperors not noted for his architectural legacy. He did however excel himself with this building, not only in aesthetic finesse, achieving a pleasing minimalist effect, but in terms of sheer size, too. The mosque courtyard is reputed to be the largest in the world used for outdoor prayers, and the whole complex can accommodate 100,000 people. Three massive domes tower above the prayer hall, supported by eight arches of phenomenal height.

After Akbar in the Mughal dynastic line came Jahangir, his son, and thereby hangs a poignant tale. Akbar saw in the reflection of a mirror a secret smile exchanged between one of the dancers in his harem and Jahangir. Suspecting them of goodness knows what, he had the poor girl built into the city wall alive. Her name was Anarkali, meaning Pomegranate Blossom, and her legend lives on in the market named after her, as well as in the Tomb of Anarkali, nowadays somewhat prosaically a Government Records Office.

Being a favoured son, Jahangir survived to tell the tale, and was eventually buried at another magnificent Mughal site at Shahdara, across the notoriously fickle River Ravi, which has its own tempestuous history of flooding the city. Then as now royal and political connections were cemented through marriage and Jahangir’s father selected a princess for him for reasons of state. But she was not his wife of choice – his beloved was poetess Nur Jahan, endowed apparently with brains and beauty. After his death in 1628, Nur supervised the building of Jahangir’s tomb, a splendid monument set amid a huge enclosure used as a caravanserai in Mughal times. Its surrounding walls are deeply indented with 180 arched porches in which the travellers and their goods could be accommodated securely. The tomb itself is another glorious concerto of brownish-red sandstone, white marble, exquisite pietra dura and vivid
ceramic mosaics.

Beyond the centre
Escaping to Shalimar

Both Jahangir’s Tomb and the Shalimar Gardens are just outside central Lahore, and the journeys to these sites are almost as fascinating as the destinations. At first, old town houses with elaborately carved wooden balconies lined streets which in Lahore are almost always expansively wide – the Mughals certainly built on a grand scale. These houses gradually gave way to industrial areas. Unfortunate bullocks pulled heavily loaded carts out of the factory gates and did their best to lumber out of the way of tooting buses crammed with commuters going home in the late-afternoon sunshine. Extravagantly decorated lorries lurched along – truck art is big in Pakistan – overtaken by motorbikes ridden by the gilded youth of Lahore. Handcarts creaked by and women clung on to children and shopping for dear life as their horse-drawn carriages bowled along. The cacophony of sound and sensation was indescribable.

It was literally another world inside the Shalimar Gardens – an oasis of tranquillity and beauty epitomising the apogee of landscape architecture and formal garden design for which the Mughals are so famous. Laid out in 1642 by Shah Jahan, the fourth generation in the Mughal dynasty, the gardens were used as a palace for weeks on end, so the whole enclosure is surrounded by high walls with watchtowers at each corner. We had to wait quite a while for the precious water to be turned on for the 400 fountains, but the wait was worth it. During the Mughal period, small oil lamps illuminated the series of large and small pools, the marble pavilions and elaborate terraces ascending to a top terrace, the evocatively named Farah Bakhsh, Bestower of Pleasure, a terrace planted with scented flowers and reserved for the harem and women of the court.

After the Mughals
Sikhs and Victorians

Despite the grandeur of 17th-century Shalimar, by the end of the 18th century the Mughal dynasty had abdicated its sovereignty over Lahore, and in 1799 the Sikhs took the city. Sadly, their reign permitted vandalism and disrepair to the urban fabric, and the character of modern Lahore owes little to the few monuments built during the Sikh Raj. The city was described during the early 19th century as a “melancholy picture of fallen splendour”. However, the British, who followed the Sikhs around the middle of the 19th century, not only made an effort to preserve some ancient buildings, but also made a substantial contribution to the architectural heritage in an original, somewhat grandiose, hybrid style referred to as Mughal Gothic or Mughal Victorian. Visit the fort-like Railway Station and you will see what I mean. The British built numerous educational institutions here, including the oldest university in Pakistan and its only National College of Arts. Today Lahore is endowed with the country’s best colleges and schools, and has more museums than any other Pakistani city. Small wonder that it is the cultural capital of a highly cultured land.

Material pleasures
Shopping in Lahore

Essentially though, visitors to Lahore cannot but be acutely aware that the city is a Mughal masterpiece. A trawl around the Old City bazaars is definitely a must – and just off the Kashmiri market is the unmissable Wazir Khan Mosque, several art galleries, craft and antiques shops specialising in Mughal artefacts, as well as the echoing halls in Lahore Museum. Here were the miniatures and jewellery which are so justifiably famous, and also splendid examples of minakari enamelling on metal. Glorious enamel work on gold is the added bonus on the back of Mughal jewellery, and this craft, as well as koftgari or damascening, and bidri or encrusted ware, were used to create intricate arabesque designs on weapons, and later on domestic goods.

Visiting the carpet emporia of Lahore, I wished I had access to the coffers of a Mughal emperor. A rich indigenous carpet industry already flourished in the Punjab when Akbar set up his royal looms in Lahore. He imported specialists from Persia, who together with local artisans created carpets in a class of their own, woven with incredibly fine knot counts of 1,200 to 2,500 to the square inch. These are Mughal masterpieces, reflecting the achievements of one of the most glittering empires the world has known.