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The last train to Phulara Fort
The once sleepy,
romantic town of Phulara has lost the past glory — and the Fort is just one victim
By Muhammad Akhtar Mummunka
Kot Phulara, on the left bank of the lost river Sarasvati, was one of the many forts in Cholistan built by the Rajput chieftains. There was a chain of defensive forts, in burnt-brick that were fiercely defended by the brave Rajputs, who fought the foreign invaders and clashed with each other, after the invasion was over. Legends of romance, intrigue, bravery and betrayal are steeped deep into the foundation of each fort.
As a child, I accompanied my father on his hunting safaris and saw the imposing forts of Vulhar, Phulara, Murrot, Bijnot, Jamgarh, Dingtarh, Maujgarh, Derawar and Islamgarh. These forts were in excellent condition in the 1950s and 1960s, as their defensive walls, battlements, towers and residential palaces were in original shape. Each fort had a well, for drinking water, within the defensive walls and a Toba, (rain-filled reservoir) nearby for cattle, camels and horses.
I have vivid memories of forts Murrot and Phulara. I recall Dinu mirasi, a folk singer, relate the romantic ballad in his melodious voice about a princess from Kot Murrot:
“Ucha Kot Murrot Da — Tey Haith Waggay Darya
Maeen Machi Darya De — Tu Bagla Ban Key Aa”
(A Princess, who lived in the high palace of the fort Murrot, pleads to her lover to come and fetch her like a king stork fetches a fish out of the river.)
Phulara fort was known after a princess called Phulan, the flower princess.
I have visited Phulan Shezadi Da Burj, the tower palace of flower princess, in this fort. The burj (tower) was visible from a long distance and served as a lighthouse to the ships of the desert, the camel caravans. I have seen beautiful paintings in the tower palace of the princess hunting gazelle and bathing in the river along with her sakhees (companions). She is believed to have gone on a hunting expedition, where she met a prince and thereafter they vanished chasing an antelope.
The lonely princesses of these romantic tales usually ended-up eloping with the neighbouring princes — and that was the cause of continued conflict amongst these chieftains.
After passing class 5 from the primary school of my village, I was admitted in a middle school at Fort Abbas, in the Bahawalpur district. My father’s friend, Dalil Khan Maher, was my host who offered me his best camel along with a Shutarbaan, a camel boy, to take me to school. His house was perched on a sand dune overlooking the compound of the Phulara Fort. I would often peep-out of the window of my dark room to look at the empty compound and Phulan Shezadi Da Burj and visualise the glory of the bygone days. The weekend travel to my village and back to school then was by train. There was only one train a day that would pass by our village in the evening. Sand dunes were used as a platform at the railway station and the steam engine provided the drinking water to the railway employees. The station had only one rail track and as such the signal to control the train movement always remained down. There was no electricity in the entire district and kerosene lanterns were the only source of light (although not much has changed even now!).
Desert storms, raising red sand, otherwise called Laal Aandhi, were very common, particularly in summers. The railway track and the station building would be wrapped in layers of dust during the storms and the train drivers were unable to see and stop, to pick and drop passengers. Fire-crackers were attached to the track and the noise would help the driver to stop at the station. The sleepy station would come to life for a minute when the train stopped and then would return to slumber until the train returned after 12 hours.
The 60-mile journey from my village station to Fort Abbas took around four hours which gave enough time to passengers to make friends, develop relationships and even arrange marriages. Young hawkers in khaki shorts hopped from compartment to compartment, selling soda water out of the wooden crates that they skillfully carried on their shoulders. I was fascinated by the bright colours of soda water, pressed in glass bottles and locked by a bunta, a crystal ball. To open the bottle, the bunta was pushed down and the gas made a noisy exit as if a genie was let out.
The whistle of the steam engine echoed in the wilderness and added kind of a romance to the serene atmosphere. In those days no modern means of communication existed and as such the lovers also depended on the whistle to meet each other at their respective rendezvous.
My last train to the Phulara Fort was in 1962.
On a recent visit to the Phulara Fort, I was horrified to see the ‘romance of Rohi’ gone forever. The rusted railway tracks were taken over by scooters, Fort Abbas station was in utter ruins and the platform was totally deserted. Pakistan Railways had closed yet another section and stopped operating on this romantic route. The stunning view of the Phulara Fort visible from the railway station was blocked — as the two-mile stretch of the dried-up river bed was clustered with ugly, un-planned structures.
We drove through muddy, twisted lanes, full of litter, half-naked children and stagnant water, to the site of the glorious fort. There was no trace of it. The mighty sand dunes that overlooked the fort compound were buried beneath cake-like concrete houses with Mashaallah written in bold letters on top of the mansions. The massive compound of the Phulara Fort and the romantic Burj of Phulan Shehzadi were long gone. The national heritage was mercilessly plundered, partly by the treasure hunters but mainly by the Rangers who tore down the majestic fort brick by brick to build their barracks.
Interestingly, across the border from Phulara are the towns of Anupgurh, Bekaner and other princely states of Rajasthan. They also had a chain of forts and palaces like the ones in Cholistan, and were served by a railway system. The fort palaces of Rajput chieftains have been converted into 5-star, heritage hotels and the train linking these royal cities and towns has been up-graded to ‘Palace on Wheels’. The employees of the former Maharajas have been hired to serve in the hospitality and tourism sector. The local population benefits from tourists by selling souvenirs and handicrafts. And the government makes tonnes of money in foreign exchange.
Unfortunately, our prosperity and progress through tourism has been hampered by our phobia for security. It is time for our security agencies to realise that the borders crossed by the tourists are seldom violated by soldiers.
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Phulan Shezadi Da Burj and Phalara Fort. — Photo by Dr. Rafique Mughal
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The railway track at the mercy of scooters and thieves.