Bara Imambara – Borderless

Quiet Flows the Gomti: A Monument of Tranquility

By Prithvijeet Sinha

A land known and globally recognised for its mannerisms, poetry and an old-world graciousness that never seem to be at odds with the churning that defines our supercilious modern lives, Lucknow is exuberant and mildly attuned to the speed of hurtling motions. Amidst its chaotic hustle of life, the Chota Imambara is like a syncretic island of serenity in the tumult that thrives around it.

Built by Mohammad Ali Shah[1] around 1838 as a religious congregation site, it is both a mausoleum and a monument. This spirited inter-dependence often springs forth from Lucknow’s erstwhile Nawabi realm as in the Chota Imambara. But above all, it offers a tranquility that verges on the sublime, in no small part because of its architecture. A mere five minute walk from the inimitable Bara Imambara, it is adorned with Quranic verses in impeccable calligraphy on its outer walls. Sunlight beams through its surface against the silvery backdrop like a revelation to the senses; the eyes trained to its humble beauty are no less transfixed by it than the other sites on its way, the historic expanse of the Hussainabad corridor converging in this final corner. The historic Hussainabad corridor is the crown of Lucknow as it’s suffused with natural beauty that is visible and transcendent. The cobble stone roads, erstwhile havelis (mansions), gateways, a picture gallery, the iconic Clock tower and bridges with characteristic craftsmanship, Teele Wali Masjid (the iconic mosque on a hill) and ancient temples invite instant awe, a continuum for those who dwell within the city to avidly become guides for the uninitiated.

Rumi Gate; Photo Courtesy: Prithvijeet Sinha

When you look at this mausoleum in the afternoon shaded by the sun, the turrets and intricate design of its gateway welcome you first as if receiving a weary traveller, offering him reprieve from the heat and the crowds that have preceded his journey to the Bara Imambara and Rumi Gate, the legendary doorway that is a sight for sore eyes. There’s a beauty to the colour of the Chota Imambara’s gateway, the golden anemometer(a geographical instrument used to indicate the wind’s direction) in the shape of the fish and an Anglicised statue in the middle of this compound that’s startling and comforting. Then there are the pond and the fountains further ahead. Something about the water, especially shimmering during hot summer days, already prepares one for the holy glint there is in the entire structure or in the Taj Mahal styled miniatures on both sides, one of which bears Muhammad Ali Shah’s beloved daughter Asiya Begum’s tomb. The symmetry of the place hence doesn’t overwhelm but is subdued in subtle colours and muted moods of light and shadows.

It’s the inner part of the Imambara that is a burst of red, green, yellow, blue and white, their variations dazzling and sensuous on account of the distinctive placement of Belgian chandeliers and tazias (religious processional items of great significance especially during Muharram). Both attest to a paradox- of luxury and faith coalescing. Both come draped in these bold colour schemes that delight the onlooker who soon beholds them. There’s also a throne and mirrors in this hall — indicating a rich past and illusions of grandeur that have now become mists, the air filled with memories yet redolent of individual stakes.

In essence, the Chhota Imambara maintains its privacy at the further end of Lucknow and when looking at its almost moon-like silver glow, the promise of Sham-e- Awadh ( fabled evenings of the city) gets more romanticised. These evenings where food, cultural activities, long walks and conversations with animated strangers and friends alike take centre stage diffuse its historic community where boundaries of faith and personal beliefs blur into a beautiful embroidered fabric.

The Chhota Imambara’s peculiarity is that despite so many elements to its structure including a hamam (bath) in the outer realm, there’s a simplicity to it all. Nothing screams out for attention. Each aspect invites individual perspectives shorn of tacky symbolism or a mishmash of styles. Every colour, every inch ultimately soothes.

It’s all about the aesthetics of grace and charm which is particularly unique to Lucknow. At the end of the day, there’s no humungous historical backstory behind Chhota Imambara or a grave precedent to its place in the Awadhi pantheon, Awadhi relating to both the region within which Lucknow stands and which it shapes ceaselessly into joyful forms. But it has always been here, rescuing itself from elusive murmurs and forgetfulness daily. Yet never adhering to overexposure. That is its greatest gift to the city and its loyal custodians.

Every visitor is a beholder here and his spirit becomes as free and unburdened like the pigeons finding home in this structure’s spires and dome, a picture of harmony.

[1] Nasser-ud-daula Mu’in ad-Din Muhammad Ali Shah(1774–1842), was the ruler of Awadh, the former name of Lucknow.

Prithvijeet Sinha is an MPhil from the University of Lucknow, having launched his prolific writing career by self-publishing on the worldwide community Wattpad since 2015 and on his WordPress blog An Awadh Boy’s Panorama. Besides that, his works have been published in several journals and anthologies.

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As Flows the Gomti: A Palace of Benevolence

Narrative and Photographs by Prithvijeet Sinha

Solitude hardly alienates us when our mind is at peace. It travels with us. It’s a profound pursuit when one embraces the solitude of a city like Lucknow. Our fates travel with the boat of time flowing on the languid currents of the river that flows through the town, Gomti.

As someone born and brought up here, it’s a great joy to walk in the footsteps of those who gave exquisite shape to its countless monuments, their chisels and hammers turning stones into works of art, adorning the city with centuries of hard toil that created exquisite beauty. This beauty hewn into the Bara Imambara enchants me anew everytime I stroll through the compound. Those limestone pillars, graded by years of construction in its classical heyday, are miracles of human hands that mesmerise. The golden paint adorning its architecture courts the sun and that great orb of light gives in to the invitation to be eternal friends for life.

The Bara Imambara, also bestowed with the title of “Asafi Imambara”, was made by the king Asaf Ud Daula out of benevolence. He commissioned the building in order to employ the drought-stricken populace of the city in the 18th Century. Very soon, this structural project expedited as a corollary to supplement the dwindling fortunes of the region became more than a philanthropic feat. Over the centuries, Bara Imambara became a royal palace, a seat of power and knowledge and a quintessential component of the Awadhi [1]identity. It’s convenient to say that it’s the axis around which the entire city revolves. It’s the architectural apex around which Lucknow sculpts its identity with each era.

Throngs of revellers travel across the city to savour its beauty and historicity. The Imambada keeps its tryst with timelessness sacred, giving every discerning eye moments to cherish, feel the same timeless energy course through their mortal bodies, giving them the gift of the spiritual. Then there’s the mystical side to it where on each visit tugs my heart. It’s as if from some intensely private part of the soul emerge these words, “Thank God, you are alive to see it. Thank God that you were born to witness such sublime beauty.”

The story of arches, pillars, doorways, the zigzagging mysteries of the Bhool Bhulaiya — its fabled labyrinth, hallways that make a single lighting of the match echo with precision across great distances and the cool atmosphere that envelops it even on muggy or scorching days make it a unique experience. But as the horizon spills its canvas around it and the panorama of life becomes a live orchestra of colours, the Imambara transcends its solemn sanctity as the abode of imams, transcends the rails of religion to diffuse faith to every corner. From some high point in the parapet, when you look straight at the city, each angle reflects the union of the divine and the mundane. It’s a grand gesture that this timeless solitude is something that can be felt even among millions of other feet and voices. It’s the solitude of the dark alleys and the baoli or stepwell within these enchanting premises. It’s this solitude gliding with the birds above the soaring pillars and dome of the Asafi Mosque, making the secular transport tangible in the mouths of those who drink in the air contained in the edifice of this monument.

I may be a dreamer but, in a city, where so many parts feel like a dream come true, the Hussainabad corridor hosting Bara Imambada is immune to modernisation’s whims or the gritty nature of our societal churnings.

As tongas[2] carry dignified visitors on cobblestone roads, Lucknow’s epicenter of culture beseeches us like a best friend to partake in the poetry of its eternal axis. Which is why I always like to walk towards it, crossing a stretch of the road that finds beautiful buildings, parks, wide roads and secular spots lead towards that most handsome of structures. Time stops here yet moves like ripples. Time is of the essence. A lifetime of meetings with the Imambada makes one reconcile with the inherent meanings behind one’s attachment to Lucknow and its Awadhi cheer. I’m fortunate to live and tell the tale, a modest man made to feel grander by these inflections of architecture, stillness and cosmic solitude that only this city has to offer. The Imambada absorbs all of these inflections and stands in good stead, telling me, “You are not a dreamer, son. Your sense of your world is intimate to a fault. Come to us. Come again. There’s so much to seek from each other…”

[1] Awadh was the ancient name of Lucknow

[2] Horse drawn carriages

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

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