Harking Back: Old city hammams, Erzurum bath and cut-throat razors

How many of us have ever had a hammam experience? Yes, you might be having a daily bath in the summer, but the traditional hammam is a totally different ball game. You enter haggard with a week-old shave, dirty clothes and emerge shining – “chamakta”, as the hammam operator claims.

But for most urbane history-loving Lahoris, the word hammam means the Shahi Hammam just inside Delhi Gate. Yes, that is an excellent example of an elitist royal Mughal bath built by Wazir Khan of Chiniot, the once governor of Lahore. But then he built two others inside the Lahore Fort for Mughal Emperor Shah Jehan -- ones that few know exist, yet in scale are probably larger.

But our interest, besides these elitist baths, is in the old city hammams, some of which are no less grand. For true old Lahoris with roots inside the Walled City, the experience is always remembered with a relaxed smile.

Lahore and hammams are as old as time. In the days of yore, those who could not afford a hammam bath would just go to the river that flowed around the walls of the city. Others had a bath at the platforms –tharras-- next to the scores of wells that dotted every mohalla, with every area having its own well. They drew water themselves and had a bath next to it. It might surprise many that most Lahoris have never heard the words aqava, which is what the traditional hammams were, and still are, called.

So what really is the difference between a normal Walled City hammam (saqava) and a Shahi Hammam? The answer, which I have verified from three Walled City friends, is: “Absolutely nothing, except for the scale and grand exterior.”

Let us first dwell on the elitist baths, and then move on to the Walled City ones. The very first ‘royal’ bath, which still exists, is the one built by Akbar inside the Lahore Fort. It is located just outside the Sheesh Mahal, and when I last visited it was in a state of utter neglect. Research tells us that it was built on the style of the Sultan Suleman Hammam inside the Antusa Palace in Istanbul.

Next to the bath, but inside the premises, is a well from which water was drawn by oxen in true Persian wheel style. The design is such that water flowed from a slight height into a pool, refreshing the water. A small room next to the pool was atharra, known in modern terms as a massage slab, or a scrubbing area. Very soon Akbar got another one built near it for his ever-expanding harem, but strictly separate.

In total, the Lahore Fort had six wells and five hammams, with only one being conserved, or partially so. It makes sense to get them working again to provide visitors with a real life experience of the days gone by.

Just what is a hammam experience like? Let me, very briefly, narrate one I had in central Turkey with my dear friend Asad Rehman in the mid-1970s as we trekked from Lahore to London. We were dead tired but trust Asad to suggest in Erzurum that we spend our very scarce resources on a Turkish bath.

The massive Turk owner made us undress, gave us a thin cloth each to cover our ‘essentials’ and pushed us into a small room, bolting the huge iron door from the outside. Steam started oozing from the roof. Very soon we were both screaming for survival; the massive door opened and fresh air saved us. The hammam owner – the seven-foot Samson – got hold of the two of us by the neck and literally chucked us into an ice cold bath. It was like ‘to hell and back’. But before we could get our breaths back, he again picked us up – yes, by the neck like helpless puppets – and threw us into the hot room again.

Again, steam started oozing and very soon we were screaming, as our red hot skin promised to peel off. Again the door opened and into the ice cold bath we were thrown. Then on to a slab and fist hits the back. As soon as we were breathing again, he provided us with two massive towels each. When we stepped into the real world, we felt like flying. Never will I forget that hammam experience.

So, one assumes that the Shahi Hammams of Lahore followed the Turkish models. But my interest is in the one that the inhabitants of the Walled City use even today – thesaqavaor hammams. Just what services do they offer? Let me narrate a real life experience.

Unshaven and unkempt in my college days, I turned up at the hammam inside Bhati Gate. There are scores dotting the lanes and the main bazaar. Even Muhammad Rafi’s family have one. Inside were four chairs. On one, amaulviwas having henna (mehndi) applied to his beard and hair. On another, an old man in adhotionly was having his hair dyed jet-black. A third was having mustard oil applied to his hair. My list was a shave and a simple bath. “You need a good massage,” the barber suggested. I declined out of sheer ‘good manners’.

The shave was a bit rough, with the barber using a leather sharpener every two minutes. Then came the bath using water gushing in from a height. Thedesisoap worked well. In the next room, a steam bath of sorts was operating and in the backverrahor courtyard, a few were having massages on empty cots, their bodies covered in oil. It was like a human repair and maintenance workshop.

Amazingly, my unkempt clothes were hanging there, well-ironed from the shop next to the barber’s, and the shoes were shining. I stepped out looking reasonable enough to return to work.

I remember while covering the Islamic Summit proceedings as a newspaper reporter, a day before Z.A. Bhutto had said in my ear: “At least shave before you come you damn hippy.”

So as I headed on my 50cc motorcycle, I stopped under a tree next to the Plaza Cinema and sat on the ground for a shave. Oh gosh, it was like murder. The cross-legged barber used an ancient blade and blood was soon flowing. He dabbed aphat-kari(anum) and I was screaming in pain. At the gathering, again ZAB approached me and smiled: “I asked you to shave, not skin yourself. What happened?” I explained and he had a good laugh. Trust his sense of humour when he sent the barber a set of Russell’s ‘cut throat’ razors.

So every time you visit the Shahi Hammam inside Delhi Gate -- thanks to Masood Khan who tirelessly resurrected this forgotten monument, or you manage to see several of them inside the Lahore Fort, or for that matter visit the old city and see the scores of hammams that still function -- do think of just how ancient some of these are.