Pre-Partition harmonium by Kartar Singh, Anarkali, Lahore

I came across a harmonium made before Partition, its fading label still carrying the proud words:

KARTAR SINGH
HARMONIUM MAKER
ANARKALLI, LAHORE

and in Punjabi (Gurmukhi):

ਕਰਤਾਰ ਸਿੰਘ ਹਾਰਮੋਨਿਯਮ ਮੇਕਰ ਅਨਾਰਕਲੀ ਲਾਹੌਰ

This simple label tells the story of Kartar Singh, a craftsman rooted in Anarkali, Lahore, whose hands once shaped instruments that became the heartbeat of gatherings. It carries me back to a time when Anarkali and nearby Langa Mandi in Taxali were alive with the rhythm of chisels, hammers, and the fine-tuning of reeds — true hubs of musical instrument making in the city. In those narrow, bustling lanes, craftsmen like Kartar Singh, along with others such as Partab Singh and Rakhi Ram, poured their artistry into harmoniums that would accompany singers, qawwals, and kirtanis across Punjab.

Each instrument bore the unique touch of its maker — the wood carved by hand, the bellows fitted with care, and the reeds tuned with patient precision. Unlike the mass-produced harmoniums of later years, these had a soul of their own, alive with both the perfections and imperfections of craftsmanship.

Partition in 1947 scattered this community of artisans, many migrating across the border to India. With them went the music of their workshops, leaving the lanes of Anarkali and Langa Mandi quieter, their echoes fading. Today, a harmonium bearing a label like that of Kartar Singh survives as more than just an instrument — it is a relic of Lahore’s once-thriving culture of music and craftsmanship, a reminder of a city where melodies were born not just from voices but from the patient hands of its makers.

Shaikh Muhammad Sultan Marg naini (RA): The Deer-Eyed Saint of Lahore

 

Located near the Gari Shahu Railway Flats in Lahore stands a centuries-old banyan tree, its massive roots tangled in time, shading the courtyard of a small but spiritually significant shrine. This is the final resting place of Shaikh Muhammad Sultan Marghbini (RA), a revered Sufi of the Qadri order, remembered not only for his deep spiritual insight but also for his beauty, especially his eyes, which earned him his title.

The epithet Mirg naini comes from the Persian "Mirgh" (deer) and "Naini" (to watch), meaning "deer to watch." It was a name lovingly given to him by his spiritual mentor, Hazrat Shaikh Sadi Shah, who was captivated by the saint's remarkable beauty, particularly his eyes that resembled those of a gazelle—soft, graceful, and filled with divine light.

Shaikh Muhammad Sultan’s spiritual lineage is rooted deeply in the Qadri Sufi order. His mentor, Shaikh Sadi Shah, was a disciple of Shaikh Aqil Shah, who in turn was guided by Mulla Shah. The spiritual chain continued through Khadim Ali Shah, Sulaiman Shah, Khulum Noor Jamal Dehlvi, Shaikh Muhammad Shafi Sudhori, and Shaikh Muhammad Hayat, the latter being a disciple of the great Pir Qamees Ali Shah Gilani.

The Qadri Silsila, founded by Hazrat Abdul Qadir Jilani of Baghdad, is one of the oldest and most widely followed Sufi orders in the Islamic world. It emphasizes love, humility, service to humanity, and complete submission to the will of God. The order is known for balancing the inner path (tariqat) with outer observance (shariat), stressing that spiritual progress must be accompanied by moral discipline. Followers of the Qadri path seek divine nearness through remembrance (zikr), self-purification, and devotion to the spiritual guide (murshid), believing that the saint’s light can help illuminate the seeker’s heart.

This uninterrupted succession of spiritual masters not only reinforced the sanctity of Shaikh Muhammad Sultan’s teachings but also connected him to the broader spiritual and mystical traditions of the Indian subcontinent.

Having received the spiritual blessings and guidance of his mentor, Shaikh Muhammad Sultan rose to immense spiritual heights. He was a rare figure who seamlessly bridged the worlds of the majzoob (those absorbed in divine love and ecstasy) and the salik (those consciously journeying toward God). Among majzoobs, he carried the clarity and composure of a salik, and among saliks, he radiated the divine intoxication of a majzoob. Often lost in sukr (spiritual intoxication), he was known to be constantly immersed in love, ecstasy, and divine absorption.

Shaikh Muhammad Sultan lived during a time of great political upheaval in Lahore. His life overlapped with the reign of Nawab Zakariya Khan, the powerful Mughal governor of Lahore and Multan, followed by his son Shah Nawaz Khan and later Yahya Khan. In 1739, the Persian conqueror Nadir Shah invaded the region, defeating Zakariya Khan and capturing Lahore—a turning point that shook the political and cultural foundations of the Mughal Empire. Despite this unrest, Shaikh Muhammad Sultan remained a tranquil force, drawing seekers toward divine peace.

Shaikh Muhammad Sultan passed away on 1st Shawwal 1158 AH, which corresponds to 24th October 1745 CE. His shrine was constructed by Shah Nawaz Khan, then the Subedar (governor) of Lahore, as a gesture of respect and reverence for the saint. Within the same courtyard, adjacent to his grave, lies a separate and older shrine believed to be that of his mother.

Exploring Kasur: A Journey Through History, Architecture, and Forgotten Streets

 

Kasur, one of the oldest living cities of Punjab, carries the silent echoes of centuries-old history, culture, and architectural grandeur. Known as the city of Baba Bulleh Shah, Kasur’s heritage extends beyond its famous Sufi saint. It was once a fortified city of twelve gates, its foundations linked to the legendary Kusha, son of Lord Rama. Over time, Kasur flourished as a center of trade, spirituality, and culture under Mughal, Sikh, and British influence.

In the heart of Kasur, beyond its bustling bazaars and the shadow of modernity, lie the narrow, labyrinthine streets of Kot Rukandin and the old quarters. These forgotten enclaves are treasure troves for any keen eye—crumbling Mughal-style gateways, intricately carved wooden balconies, colonial-era buildings, and weathered inscriptions narrate tales of a glorious yet fading past.

On my recent photography tour, I walked these streets with my camera, seeking to preserve the overlooked fragments of Kasur’s architectural heritage. In Kot Rukandin, I stumbled upon fading archways, Sikh-era havelis, and old Jain temples that still stand resilient amid decay. Every street corner seemed to unveil a hidden doorway, a carved plaque, or an abandoned smadhi—all lost in time yet whispering stories of the people who once called them home.

This visual journey wasn’t just about architecture—it was about connecting with the soul of Kasur, capturing its silent resilience, and shedding light on its neglected historical layers.