Had Emperor Akbar’s musician Mian Tansen still been alive, he would have boasted of calling down the rain with his Raga Megh Malhar. It is heavily overcast and grey clouds pregnant with rain crowd over Lahore’s skies.

Silent and domineering, the thick walls of the Shahi Qila’s entrance stand indifferently. Yet they are the only piece of harshness at the Lahore Fort. The rest is entirely the Mughals’ love for art and architecture.

Beyond the magnificent Alamgiri Gate, a wide, sloping path bordered by the huge walls leads to a point where the lush green lawns and the Diwan-i-Aam, or the court for the common people, can be seen from a vantage point.

The Diwan-i-Aam is an open hall. Its 40 pillars (made of red sandstone from Jaipur) form arches on top. Bombarded by Sher Singh, the son of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, fighting against Maharani Chand Kaur, the Diwan-i-Aam collapsed. It was not until 1849 that the British rebuilt it. Today, only its pillars and floor are original.

On an ordinary day the Diwan-i-Aam would have been a place the public would have skipped seeing, preferring the gardens or the other rooms of this splendid fort. For a month, though, things have been different.

Clad in sequined long-coats belted at the waist with a scabbard worn over silk vests and satiny trousers, two sentinels stand as still as time, which seems to have stopped somewhere in the Mughal era. One hand grasps a spear, and the other a huge bronze shield; a sword hangs from the scabbard and the round bronze helmet is adorned with a single faux feather. The costumes are immaculate; any moment, one feels, an emperor’s presence may be announced at the Daulat Khana-i-Khas right above their heads.

This Daulat Khana-i-Khas, or the royal throne, was Akbar’s idea, while Shahjehan was the one who built the Diwan around it. It includes a jharoka (or balcony) of white marble which is supported by four brackets of red sandstone.

The public relations officer of the Walled City Project, Zubair Ahmed, says that very soon British and Sikh guards will also be making an appearance. In fact the British guards, Abid and his brother Asif, are both present. Blue-eyed Abid seems like the perfect candidate for his role. He is talkative and says that the other two sets of guards were already in their places on Aug 14, but for the public they will start again once their uniforms are altered. “When I looked in the mirror after dressing up, I was a transformed man,” he smiles. “I became someone from the past.”

But Syed Hasan Ali from Sheikhupura and Nazakat from Lahore’s Taxali gate are not so communicative. In fact, constant bullying by the general public has left the two introverted boys even more reticent. Nazakat refuses to talk and Hasan is perspiring in worry.

“The public’s reaction has mostly been to tease incessantly, to try to get a reaction out them, and even to bet over who gets a reaction first,” explains Abid, the ‘British guard’. There has been jostling and pushing, so much so that the authorities had to move the guards to the jharoka above.

That is not to say that there has been no positive reaction, though.

Some young men stand staring in awe at the costumed guards. Many are from outside Lahore. An older man terms the effort to dress them up as “beautiful” and “unique”. A younger one from Gujrat, who has never visited the fort before, is so impressed he cannot find words.

“So many different people come here every day, and all of their reactions are different,” says the Walled City Project PRO, Zubair Ahmed. “But we always stop them if they cross lines.”

The two guards were picked after a test in which 10 nominees had to stand continuously for two days. These two were the only ones who remained on their feet. Now their work, though difficult, is not so cruel. There is a break after every hour, and a three-hour lunch break. During the breaks, or if they are ill, stand-ins are selected. They say they are paid well and the job is worth it.

“I am a part of our history, and that is prestigious in itself,” says Hasan.

So still do they stand that one visitor claims he thought they were statues until he drew closer and saw their eyes move.

Technically, though, the emperors’ guards did not stand above ground at all. Heritage photographer Aftab Shabbir removes up a loose slab of floor tile and shows a room underneath. “They would stand here, many of them, and in case there was an attack they would spring out,” he says. “But the room has not been opened up and there might be snakes inside now. We have to clear it before reopening it.”

The Walled City Project means to bring in more actors depicting the emperor, the various queens, their slave girls, and even an elephant for the Elephant Steps. One of the photographers wears an achkan-style blue long-coat with dabka embroidery, and a kulah on his head to show what a Mughal prince wore.

With merely two costumed sentinels in the Diwan, an entire era has been recreated. Once the other characters arrive on the scene, the Lahore Fort will once again bask in glory, perhaps remembering its ghosts of the past.

Published in Dawn, September 29th , 2015

On a mobile phone? Get the Dawn Mobile App: Apple Store | Google Play