Our chatter hushes to a somber lull as Areesha turns the car towards a barricaded marble entrance. A city is best experienced through the lens of a resident, and none has an eye for detail as thorough as that of a devotee, so of course, our Lahore trail must begin with an ode to grief; Karbala Gamay Shah.
Covering our heads in a collective motion, we follow as she leads expertly, this is her domain. We walk by a row of shops and stalls selling engraved lockets, steel bracelets and arm bands. Stopping under a massive flag, she bares her feet, bows her head and touches the flagpole. We do not know the appropriate greeting, but repeat the gesture anyway. It is the intention that matters, after all.
Karbala Gamay Shah stands as an Imam Bargah, hosting thousands of mourners year-round
Karbala Gamay Shah is a tale of love and lamenting. A saint, dedicating his life to mourning those of the family of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), wearing his grief like an identity. A ruler, who could not tolerate that display of emotion and imprisoned him, love won, as it does, and Baba Syed Ghulam Ali Shah’s sorrow outlasted his rule, and the ruler himself. It now stands as an Imam Bargah, hosting thousands of mourners year-round. They’re present as we pass through, careful not to step on a stream of visitors lying in the yard.
All clad in a mournful black, some mouthing a tasbih, others a noha, making way for us with practiced ease. We visit a series of shrines, symbolizing multiple, equally heartbreaking points. The cradle of Ali Asghar (May Allah be pleased with him), the youngest son of Husayn ibn Ali (May Allah be pleased with him), adorned with chain links left by mourners, a horse carving saluting the loyalty of the dutiful ride of Husayn ibn Ali (May Allah be pleased with him); his own shrine with droplets of symbolic blood, to be removed as a gesture indicating the end of the mourning period on eighth Rabi ul Awwal.
Karbala Gamay Shah becomes a place for people to unwind, to rush to in moments of personal defeat, and be inspired by immortal stories
All significant Shia processions in Lahore, starting at different points, end at Karbala Gamay Shah. This finality is apparent in the way devotees rest in the courtyard, with no hint of a rush to be elsewhere, relaxed, mournful, and at home. It made me observe a few parallels. The history of this tale of mourning is colored with oppressive rulers, those who martyred the family of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) for not submitting to their rule, those who imprisoned the mourners for displaying their grief over it.
Throughout the centuries, dissent has always been oppressed, and expression, in itself, is dissent. It breaks the monotony of submission and acceptance, stands out, and opposes the desperate belief of all being well under the oppressive rule. And hence, it has always been crushed, when not done outrightly, it is done under the guise of work, burdening individuals with a workload that leaves them with no time and capacity to express their grief.
Societies are designed to value individuals over communities, weakening the fabric weaved by inter personal relationships, so much that people cannot process their emotions, cannot share them, and hence, remain far from expressing them openly. Places like Gamay Shah, embodying the spirit of service, with workers humbly keeping your shoes as you walk inside, provide space for the visitors to just be. Not worrying about earning to fill their bellies, they lie in a rent-free yard, sink in mournful devotion, and process their own lives and emotions through those of the family of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).
It becomes a place for people to unwind, to rush to in moments of personal defeat, and be inspired by the stories of those immortalised in shrines such as these, across the world. Moved by this space and its energy, we walked out, thanking the staff and looking for a locket as a memory of the visit and the lessons it taught us, an unsuccessful search after all, but I would like to believe that it is a disguised invitation for me to revisit. For the locket, if not for the hospitality.