AFTER crossing the Ravi bridge which offers a depressing sight of a drying river that has partly been reduced to toxic sludge, through a small winding road among several congested ones, past a humble neighbourhood and bazaar, one catches sight of the domineering gates of the Akbari Sarai, a rectangular enclosure which was during the reign of Shah Jahan a state guesthouse comprising 180 cells.

This is just one part of the Shahdara Complex of Monuments at the hub of conservation work under the banner of the department of archaeology and museums, whose restoration efforts are also directed towards the tomb of Emperor Jahangir, as well as of his beloved queen, Nur Jahan, and brother-in-law Asif Khan.

Quietly intimidating, the complex boasts the magnificent history of an empire, and of an emperor who had expressed the desire to be buried at Shahdara, Lahore, within the Bagh-i-Dilkusha which had been built following the orders of his queen at the time, Nur Jahan.

The complex has been busy since its restoration and preservation work was announced in 2009 which were broken down into two phases — phase one focused on stabilising the monument, with phase two dedicated to its decorative elements. For the 400-year-old monument, structural stability was primary as it had suffered much on account of the vagaries of time, weather, as well as institutional apathy, which allowed the erosion of history worth centuries.

Project director Naeem Iqbal is at the heart of these measures, and has been for the past six years. “Progress is slow as all the elements that make up this conservation process are done by hand,” he explains. “As Jahangir’s tomb is on the tentative list to qualify for Unesco’s World Heritage Sites, it is a requirement to remain true to the original shape and design of the monument. Despite this, we are within the prescribed timeline.”

As for the matter of clearing out encroachments around the complex till up to 200 feet, another requirement for the site to qualify, not much progress seems to have been made.

Iqbal’s office is located within the entrance tower of the Akbari Sarai, and with steep steps leading to his chamber, he witnesses a flurry of activity all day long. One moment funds are needed to be released to purchase red sandstone, the primary material used in the tomb’s structure. “The red sandstone used in the minarets of Jahangir’s tomb is not available in Pakistan and needs to be imported from India; the government of Pakistan has to issue an NOC for it,” he elaborates over tea that has been specially called for from the bazaar nearby.

In the middle of the conversation he also makes inquiries after his workers who are busy at the site of the minaret far away from where he sits.

Opposite to his desk is a wide wooden door that offers him a clear view of the northern gates of the Akbari Sarai that open into the Bagh-i-Dilkusha. He watches over the complex like a concerned lover, who keeps an ever watchful eye over his beloved out of concern for where she is headed.

The first minaret of Jahangir’s tomb had been restored in 2010 and restoration work on the second started this year. According to the plans of the project, it should take around two years to be completed. Side by side work is in under way to repair the flood-eroded boundary wall of the complex as well as strengthening the underpinnings of the structure.

Iqbal delves into the multiple decorative elements of Jahangir’s tomb, whose conservation is on top priority. “From among Pakistan’s several Mughal monuments, Jahangir’s tomb has the most complex decorative elements. It is a university of conservation with red sandstone, white marble as well as kashi kari being used.”

But he does not just consider this to be a mere day job; for Iqbal each day working to restore bits and pieces of the structure is a unique ode to the bricks and mortar that consume his days.

“Conservation without devotion is not possible,” he says, as we head towards the minaret while he chats with workers on the way, who rush to greet him.

Iqbal’s greatest lament is not about the lack of timely availability of funds, or the expensive building material not readily available in the required quantity, factors that regularly plague the project. It is in fact how the craftsmanship for conservation of historical monuments, an art form which was once passed on from generation to generation and much venerated, is gasping for air. Unfortunately, this decline cannot be stopped with projects requiring conservation work far and few and not well-paid.

On entering the burial chamber of the emperor who was regarded as a patron of the arts, the grandeur Jahangir is surrounded by seems to be an apt extension of his reign and his death. It makes one realise that in the midst of political intrigue and dynastic upheavals, while institutions were being razed to the ground in either skirmishes or full-fledged war, monuments were built several times during the history of the Indian subcontinent that were more than just representations of power — they became symbols of love, loyalty and most of all humanity. And the tomb of Emperor Jahangir is one such monument.

Published in Dawn, April 5th, 2016