The road much travelled — IV

The Rohtas that Abidi saw was only a shadow of its former self, transmuted into somewhat of a shrine.

Continuing his journey along GT Road, Raza Ali Abidi takes a short detour to visit the much celebrated Rohtas Fort which the Government of Pakistan has, since then, protected under the Antiquities Act, 1975 and which in 1997 won a place in the World Heritage List. In 1985 however, Rohtas stood silent and desolate, forcing Abidi to observe that buildings, like people, have a destiny of their own and Rohtas’ was a lonely one. In Sher Shah Suri’s time, GT Road had run along the fort and had witnessed many a laden caravan making its way to and from Rohtas. However, when the British took control of the area from the Sikhs after the controversial Battle of Chillianwala, they moved the road five kilometres towards Dina and in doing so, not only changed the course of the traffic but also sealed the fate of Rohtas.

The Rohtas that Abidi saw was only a shadow of its former self. Sher Shah had built this fort 16 kilometres north-west of what is now Jhelum, at the apogee of his rule to suppress the local Gakkhars (who had remained loyal to the Mughals) and to keep at bay, invading hordes from Afghanistan. At the peak of its fortunes, Rohtas was a symbol of Sher Shah’s military acumen. Over time, however, it has transmuted into somewhat of a shrine. ‘Pir-a-Ghaib’ or the invisible saint, (known as such because he disappeared suddenly and since then, no one has found any trace of him or his grave) is one of the many holy men associated with Rohtas. Locals told Abidi that earth from the fort gate attributed to Pir-a-Ghaib, cures illnesses. Supplicants therefore travel long distances for a fistful of this earth and when they heal, leave salt as a token of gratitude. With the Khewra Salt Mines only a few miles away, salt, in any event has a historic connection with this place: legend has it that there was once a bustling salt market where Rohtas now stands and it was the promise of salt, rather than the desire for riches or glory, that had lured Alexander this deep into Punjab.

From Rohtas, Abidi traveled towards the Jhelum river, which is the largest and most westerly of the five rivers that give Punjab its name. It was on the banks of this river that Alexander’s beloved horse, Bucephalus, had died and Alexander had raised a city in its memory. Although all traces of this ancient city are now lost, it is believed that the city of Jhelum, famous for providing soldiers to the British and then Pakistani armies, was built on its ruins. It was the British who recognised the potential of the place, and brought it within the main traffic stream by linking it to GT Road. Jhelum thrived under the Raj and grew into a bustling city.

Post-partition the fortunes of Jhelum took a fresh turn. Lured by the glitter of money, a large number of its residents migrated overseas. Although their oil dipped dollars bought prosperity to the place, they did so at the price of education and progress. Even at the time of Abidi’s visit, the residents of Jhelum were already deploring the rising commercialism and the inevitable social disintegration that came in its wake. There was one resident however, who still shone a beacon of hope — Dr Gulshan Mirza — who according to Abidi, did not just manage a charitable institute, Al-Markaz, but led a crusade against poverty and misfortune by helping women, children and in fact anyone who was sick, needy or calamity-stricken. It is perhaps even more to her credit that she did all this with unflinching courage and compassion as well as the firm belief that at least some part of our lives must be spent in the service of humanity! I have been unable to discover what became of Dr Gulshan or Al-Markaz. Regardless however, her work is a reminder to each of us that the isolation of self-absorbed materialism may be dispelled by even the smallest act of kindness.

(To be continued)

Published in The Express Tribune, October 5^th, 2011.