Lahore Fort night tour: Echoes of kings, mirrors, music, memory

LAHORE: There’s a particular magic in Lahore after sunset, just before the city lights flicker on, when the walls of Lahore Fort seem to inhale. Standing near the Roshnai Gate at that hour, I felt as if the centuries were leaning into a whisper.

The Walled City of Lahore Authority’s “History by Night” tour promised a journey through time, and it delivered.

Our small group gathered by the British-era Roshnai Gate, murmurings blending with the scent of damp stone and blooming jasmines. Questions floated: “Is this the original gate?” “What year was it rebuilt?” There was palpable anticipation: tonight, Sheesh Mahal would open its doors to the night sky.

Then, suddenly, the darbaan appeared, the king’s guard, his voice rolling across the courtyard. The gates swung open ceremoniously, nudging us into the past. The moment reminded me of illustrations from Mughal chronicles, where courtiers awaited royal processions in poised silence.

We paused at Allama Iqbal’s mausoleum. At night, it seemed contemplative, softened by shadow. Behind it, the Badshahi Mosque glowed from within, Aurangzeb’s vision luminous under the moonlight. Even centuries-old sandstone and marble took on a new vitality in darkness.

A short walk brought us to Hazoori Bagh. The marble baradari at its center, Ranjit Singh’s celebration of his Koh-i-Noor acquisition, gleamed in gentle white light. From afar, it seemed fragile; up close, it was resolute. Stone weathered by time, yet full of pride.

Alamgiri Gate loomed next. Even with repeated visits, its scale stilled the crowd. Cameras rose instinctively. A child tugged her mother’s sleeve. History was no longer in books; it was breathing around us.

The Picture Wall glimmered, telling silent stories of artisans who had once traced its panels with brush and gold. Nearby, craftsmen displayed wares reflecting Lahore’s layered history. Visitors climbed onto rickshaws and wooden carts. The very routes once trodden by royal elephants. The air smelled of nostalgia, damp stone, and faint attar.

By the time we reached Barood Khana, the old British ammunition depot, the night had fully claimed us. Then it happened: the performance began. Drums thundered. Swords clashed. A Kathak dancer spun so quickly her mirrors scattered sparks of light. Sufi performers, Sikh martial artists, Mughal-era daasiyaan. All came together in a living kaleidoscope of traditions, stitched carefully by the WCLA to awaken history.

Inside Sheesh Mahal, mirrors multiplied the magic, no LED, no projection, no modern trickery. Just light, reflection, and the genius of Mughal imagination. The Emperor arrived (an actor, yes, but so convincingly that children and adults stared wide-eyed). Music swelled; the court breathed once again.

The tour ended in the fort kitchen with refreshments. Music softened, visitors lingered, unwilling to leave. This, perhaps, is the WCLA’s greatest triumph: transforming Lahore’s heritage from static museum pieces into living companions.

2024 alone brought new tours: Roshan Galiyan, the Yatra Sikh heritage walk, hidden fort corners, old havelis, museum mysteries, and even “Fort Fright,” a historical horror tour.

More than 5.3 million Pakistanis visited Lahore Fort last year, alongside over 80,000 foreign tourists. A remarkable achievement for a country often misunderstood abroad. Jahangir’s Tomb, Shalimar Gardens, and the Walled City itself saw throngs, proof that history is alive and calling.