Bazaars, havelis, and heartbreak: A stroll through time

Have you ever thought of becoming a tourist in the very city you live in and explore its rich cultural heritage? Well, I never thought I would do so until one day when I stumbled upon a social media post asking people to come and join the ‘Heritage Walk’ in my own city.

At 10 o’clock, I joined a diverse group of enthusiasts, aged seven to seventy, gathered at the entrance of the Holy Redeemer Church, also known as the Old Church. Two experts took turns sharing insights about its rich history, detailing its foundation, re-establishment, and the significance of its architectural style. As they spoke, the church’s grandeur and timeless charm came to life, revealing stories of the past etched in its walls. The experience was both enlightening and humbling, making me appreciate the cultural treasure that had quietly stood in my own city all along.

That day, I realized it’s not only the living who tell history— the dead do too. As we wandered through the Christian Cemetery in Ambala Cantt, the weathered gravestones whispered stories of the past. Names, dates, and weathered epitaphs revealed snippets of forgotten lives— soldiers, missionaries, and settlers who once roamed these very streets. Some graves stood tall and dignified, while others leaned like sleepy old men, yet all silently testified to the passage of time. We also discovered that Dutch soldiers, brought in as prisoners of war from the Boer Wars in Africa, too, were buried here— unwilling visitors turned permanent residents. Their modest headstones spoke of lives uprooted by distant battles, now laid to rest in an unfamiliar land. With each step, it felt less like a walk and more like leafing through a dusty, forgotten history book— one where the plot twists were literally six feet under.

Next, we ventured into the vibrant Sadar Bazar of Ambala Cantonment, originally established by British officers for the locals. The bustling market, with its maze of lanes and bylanes, reflected the city’s rich heritage. Each lane was named after the profession of the community that once resided there—blacksmiths, carpenters, and potters leaving their mark in the nomenclature. The bazar also featured large ahatas (courtyards), named after prominent clans or notable figures who once called the area home. As we explored, the blend of colonial influence and local culture came alive in the bazar’s timeless charm.

However, the vibrancy of Sadar Bazar quickly faded when we came across the crumbling remains of once-majestic havelis and mansions. These heritage-worthy structures, now worn by time, stood as melancholic reminders of a glorious past. Multiple inheritance disputes and a stark lack of preservation had reduced them to fragile relics, their grandeur slipping away with each passing year. Faded facades, broken balconies, and weathered walls silently mourned the neglect. It was disheartening to see these monumental pieces of history on the brink of oblivion, their stories slowly being erased by the indifference of the present.

As I stood before the crumbling havelis, Wendell Phillips’ words echoed in my mind: “The heritage of the past is the seed that brings forth the harvest of the future.” These weathered mansions were more than just bricks and mortar—they were repositories of forgotten stories, cultural richness, and ancestral pride. Yet, their fading presence was a sobering reminder that neglecting the past jeopardizes the future. Preserving such heritage isn’t merely about saving old structures—it’s about safeguarding the roots that shape our identity. Without them, the future risks losing the very essence that once defined it.

The heritage walk was more than just a stroll— it was a journey into the soul of my city. Witnessing the rich cultural heritage, from grand churches to bustling markets and fading havelis, made me realize the urgent need to preserve such architectural gems. These monuments are not just relics of the past but vital links to our collective identity. Their survival demands a joint effort— both government initiatives and active citizen participation. Moreover, becoming a tourist in your own city is a revelation in itself. It uncovers hidden stories and deepens your connection to the place you call home.