Darul Aman Palace: Unpeaceful abode
If the tragedy of modern Afghanistan could be encapsulated in a single building, it would be the Darul Aman Palace.
If the tragedy of modern Afghanistan could be encapsulated in a single building, then that building would be the Darul Aman Palace. Built in 1923 by a French architect, this was Afghan King Amanullah Khan’s dream project, a palace that was to be at the heart of a new capital city that would embody a new Afghanistan. That city was never built, and today the ‘abode of peace’ is a shattered husk, its ruined walls pitted with bullets and shrapnel.
The palace was never actually used as a residence, but instead first housed the Justice Ministry and then the Defence Ministry during the tenure of the ‘Lion of Panjshir’, Ahmad Shah Massoud. Once it was surrounded by French-style gardens but these, like so much else that used to be beautiful in this strife-torn country, are long gone. Now the palace rests atop a low hill of sandblasted scrub at the head of a well-trafficked thoroughfare that leads to Kabul, just six kilometres away.
The windows look like empty eye sockets, and the dust-laden wind howls as it passes through them and into rubble-strewn rooms, making the twisted wreckage of metal roof beams groan. The walls that remain standing are pockmarked with bullet holes, shrapnel and now graffiti as well. Massive columns, staircases and entire floors were blown apart by rockets and bombs during the days of the ‘Fight for Kabul’ when Massoud and his men headquartered themselves here whilst Gulbuddin Hekmatyar did his level best to, quite literally, blow them out. The graffiti is a more recent addition.
Filtering in through holes and doorways, the sunlight gives a sepia tint to the interior, splashing it with a backcloth of trauma that is almost tangible, that can almost be tasted. The hustle and bustle of distant Kabul, viewed through the once magnificent door and window frames is a world apart from the indelibly poignant, royal wreckage of a world that so briefly promised modernity before regressing into a maelstrom of unholy terror.
There are unconfirmed rumours that Darul Aman Palace is to undergo total renovation but no one really takes them seriously in this ravaged country. When venturing out to purchase the costly ingredients of the next meal is to take your life into your hands, few can afford to look at the future with any degree of hope.
Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 20th, 2011.
The palace was never actually used as a residence, but instead first housed the Justice Ministry and then the Defence Ministry during the tenure of the ‘Lion of Panjshir’, Ahmad Shah Massoud. Once it was surrounded by French-style gardens but these, like so much else that used to be beautiful in this strife-torn country, are long gone. Now the palace rests atop a low hill of sandblasted scrub at the head of a well-trafficked thoroughfare that leads to Kabul, just six kilometres away.
The windows look like empty eye sockets, and the dust-laden wind howls as it passes through them and into rubble-strewn rooms, making the twisted wreckage of metal roof beams groan. The walls that remain standing are pockmarked with bullet holes, shrapnel and now graffiti as well. Massive columns, staircases and entire floors were blown apart by rockets and bombs during the days of the ‘Fight for Kabul’ when Massoud and his men headquartered themselves here whilst Gulbuddin Hekmatyar did his level best to, quite literally, blow them out. The graffiti is a more recent addition.
Filtering in through holes and doorways, the sunlight gives a sepia tint to the interior, splashing it with a backcloth of trauma that is almost tangible, that can almost be tasted. The hustle and bustle of distant Kabul, viewed through the once magnificent door and window frames is a world apart from the indelibly poignant, royal wreckage of a world that so briefly promised modernity before regressing into a maelstrom of unholy terror.
There are unconfirmed rumours that Darul Aman Palace is to undergo total renovation but no one really takes them seriously in this ravaged country. When venturing out to purchase the costly ingredients of the next meal is to take your life into your hands, few can afford to look at the future with any degree of hope.
Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 20th, 2011.