A Map For Lost Lovers

The first time I saw the Tomb of the Mughal Emperor Jahangir, I was almost decidedly unmoved. Tucked away in the less familiar folds of the inner-city, Shahdara in Lahore, the tomb lives up to the grandiose, but ultimately dispassionate descriptions provided by local travel guides; the riot of dazzling tile mosaic and the remarkable 'marble floral inlay' are still intact. However, the surrounding sites, especially the mausoleum of Jahangir's brother-in-law, Asif Khan, has been ravaged by waves of imperial hostility and present day indifference. Famously, the Sikh invasion of Lahore resulted in the loot and plunder of this site, inferring upon the entire place a historical humiliation.

It was the second time, upon the insistence of a visiting friend, that I ended up returning to this place and noticed something extraordinary about it. Of course, the grave has all the necessary asthetes of a royal burial: The light in the room dedicated to the rituals of mourning, the 99 names of Allah engraved in flawless calligraphy, and semi precious stones baked into decorated frescoes. The answer to what is truly magical about this site lies in the details of the 'inlaid floral patterns'.

The floral display on the grave is no ordinary blossom. It is a silent depiction of a pomegranate blossom - a subtle reference to Jahangir's forbidden love.

Anarkali, whose name literally translates to 'Pomegranate Blossom', was a lowly dancer with whom the Jahangir had fallen in love with - much to the dismay of his father, Akbar. After a failed rebellion against his father's disapproval, Jahangir was condemned to death but Anarkali came to his rescue, asking instead, to be executed on his behalf. She was allowed to spend a night with him, after which she reportedly drugged the Prince with a pomegranate blossom.

According to legend, she was then immured alive in a wall.

Since 1627, to this day, the formalities of divine allegiance and the traditions of royal burials veneer Jahangir's plight. But this whispered blossom pays testimony to the hushed subversion of a love that dare not say its name.

As Lahore is engulfed once again by the impersonal forces of history, here lies a forgotten legend, quietly waiting for fruition.