Walking through the narrow, arched bylanes of Noor Mahal, it's hard not to wonder how planners overlooked the city’s inherent charm and the possibilities of preserving its potential to become the East’s equivalent of Florence—or even Venice.
Set on the banks of the second of the three cascading lakes, filled by monsoon streams running down the majestic Idgah Hill, the scenic little locality is a virtual treasure trove of narrow alleys that turn with the lyrical melancholy of a haunting old melody before ending at the mosque at Bala Khana.
The Urdu word "Bala Khana" means attic, which in turn has etymological roots in the Latin "Atticus", referring to something from the historical city of Athens. No one knows for sure if the name was intentionally chosen to evoke one of the world’s most charming cities, which one might have recalled while standing at this pavilion when it still overlooked two of the cascading lakes to its east.
The landscape is a gentle slope that runs eastwards in a two-pronged fork, with the right taking you towards the Imami Gate-Shahjehanabad Road and the left drawing you in through an arched street of decrepit houses with old squeaky doors that make one wonder about the folks who inhabit them.
Despite the rustic disrepair and dustiness, the area doesn’t seem unclean, though one can’t help but hope that the streets here could have been paved with bricks or some sort of vintage flooring to add to the charm of this quaint little place.
The street passes another archway before leading to an almost hidden alley that reveals the Bala Khana mosque. The architecture is a rustic version of Indo-Saracenic, which is beautifully complemented by a living potpourri of dry yellow leaves on a little tree that stands decaying near the entrance to the mosque.
Though the area is now a forgotten little quarter, it was once the labour of love of the poet-princess Nawab Shahjahan Begum, who had chosen to build her capital of Shahjahanabad around the three cascading lakes. Noor Mahal was built for her consort Nawab Siddiq Hasan, who had named it after his son, Noor ul Hasan.
Frowned upon by purists, the love between the widowed Shahjahan and the married Siddiq had blossomed at the Taj Mahal Palace, a few hundred metres north of Noor Mahal.
Shahjahan had chosen to marry Siddiq despite the discomfort of noblemen who had raised concerns about local customs and sectarian differences with his ancestry. Shahjahan had overruled the objections, including those by her own daughter and heir apparent, Princess Sultan Jahan.
Sultan Jahan and Siddiq never got along, nor did she ever forgive her mother for belittling the memory of her departed father, Nawab Baqi Mohammad Khan, by remarrying. Her reign, following the death of Shahjahan, saw Noor Mahal and the Taj Mahal fall into neglect and disrepair.
Post-independence and the organisation of states, the city administration too failed to take note of this lyrical piece of architecture and history, which, anywhere else in the world, would have been paved with cobbles or basalt that would welcome travellers to evenings by the lakes that sparkled with the rebellious love of Shahjahan and Siddiq. Alas!
