Written by: Muhammad Asif Nawaz
Posted on: April 16, 2018 | 
| 中文
Kamran ki Baradari
Over the centuries, various dynasties have risen and fallen, and together have formed Lahore’s distinct identity. The renowned writer, Bapsi Sidhwa, once described the city as, “the handmaiden of dimly remembered Hindu kings, the courtesan of Mughal emperors, the Paris of the East.” Though many invaders and rulers have reigned both before and after them, it’s arguably the Mughals that Lahore’s glorious past is most firmly entwined with; replete with the grandeur of royal mosques, the charm of the walled city, the rows of natural jewels of the mighty gardens and the stupefying enormity of the Lahore fort. Amidst all this sheen and might, the first ever Mughal structure in Lahore, Kamran ki Baradari, rarely gets mentioned.
Kamran Mirza was the second son of the first Mughal emperor, Babur, and brother of the second emperor, Humayun. Details about his life have mostly been relegated to the margins of history, yet the structure he built still stands as a reminder of his existence. Kamran laid the foundation of this garden by the bank of river Ravi in 1540, hosting a baradari (a pavilion with 12 doors). Its original purpose was to be used as a summer pavilion. Nestled inside the bustling neighbourhood of Shahdara, it’s the only relic in this area that isn’t primarily a royal mausoleum; the other gardens host the tombs of Jahangir, Noor Jehan, Asif Khan and Zeb un Nissa Begum. The Mughal rulers after Mirza, added and renovated parts of the baradari. When Punjab fell to the British, they used the baradari as a toll collection centre for the passing boats. The ebb and flow of the river has damaged the structure; at times severely damaging the upper storey and part of the basic structure. It was only in 1990s that serious conservation work was undertaken, and the pavilion was restored somewhat to its original worth.
With the changing course of Ravi, the geographical location of the baradari changed dramatically. What was once located besides a river is now located in the middle of an island, and can only be accessed conveniently by boats. There’s a small, designated, free parking area at the other end of the river. The journey atop the waters is taken with the help of two boats: one rowboat and one motorboat. However, there are no pleasant, bitter-sweet reminders of the past as you occasionally start spotting the baradari behind the green of the trees. For almost the entire journey, the most overwhelming sensation remains the burning of your nostrils. Ravi here looks nothing like a river; it’s one big cesspool of waste and garbage - the dumping spot of a megacity’s excreta. So here’s a mandatory warning: protect your nose well if you plan to make this trip.
But much consolation is had when you’ve reached the other end of the water-body. The baradari looks glorious and the gardens have all the luscious colours of nature. Much of the credit for this goes to the conservation authorities. Though there are areas for improvement (the fountains for one), yet overall the place isn’t as neglected as one would have expected, after visiting other heritage sites of the country.
The baradari itself is located at one extreme of the compound, overlooking the Ravi at one end and the geometrically laid out gardens at the other end. However, this wasn't the original design of the area, and strokes of natural calamities have much to their credit here. Some historians go a step further and pose questions regarding the attribution of the Baradari to Kamran. The garden was his, they agree, but the specific designs in the actual baradari make it chronologically fitter for the times of Akbar or Shahjahan. However, oral tradition has been kinder to Kamran, even if this wasn’t his doing, and there’s little we should be complaining about.
The baradari, with its beautiful work and engaging patterns, is a treat to behold. The upper storeys are also open, and they provide a great spot for taking pictures, besides affording some wonderful views of the area. A stroll in the gardens is another treat, even though they are remarkably smaller in scale than some other Mughal gardens in Lahore. Tourists flock the region, some for having a picnic at the baradari, many for paying respects at the adjoining shrine of a Sufi saint. The wild pace of the city eases for a moment, while at this peaceful abode of a foregone era.
On the way back, however, you’re made to wait. At times the wait can be for extremely long durations, as the boats arrive and take you back. The rule is that they charge you for one side, and you have to wait for the boats to fill up before they come to drop their new passengers and pick you up. This, and the smelly water body, is the only serious impediment to hailing Kamran Ki Baradari as a wonderful tourist attraction of Lahore.
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