Harking back: The mysterious spy-writer-teacher of Mason Road

It was a surprise to learn, thanks to my cousin Saulat Saeed, that the house where we lived in Lover’s Lane on Mason Road in the late 1960s was where from 1925-1933 lived Britain’s top spy, writer and English-language teacher.

Mason Road is located behind the Ganga Ram Hospital. It was in its days a true representation of British-influenced lifestyle. Our house was 11 Mason Road, which was a massive house now converted into three large and three smaller houses. Our father was the last Editor of the Civil & Military Gazette, and we enjoyed the huge rooms and massive lawns. Never in our wildest dreams could we imagine that almost 40 years earlier a top spy disguised as an English professor lived there. Probably most colonial plots were hatched there – just a wild guess.

Alexander Wilson, the famous writer, was in those days the principal of the Islamia College, Railway Road, and was selected after an ‘interview’ in London, and his professional skills were much publicised. In his stay in Lahore he wrote a few famous book, including ‘The Mystery of Tunnel 51’, and also the famous ‘The Devil’s Cocktail’, as well as seven other spy thrillers. My computer tells me one can only see them ‘electronically’. Rather mysterious. His books claim his biggest rival was a Russian spy known as Levinsky, but known in Lahore as Mr Silverman, who lived on Davies Road, wrongly known as Davis Road.

The Mason Road house in the 1960s and 70s was owned by a Mr Shafiq, and we moved into the house where once lived this famous spy-writer-teacher. Opposite our house was, and remains, a Christian monastery where lived scores of nuns and priests. Their alleged affairs were legendary. We never saw the inside of this secretive monastery, which remains the case today.

Next to the monastery was a huge two-acre enclosure with ten smaller houses in which lived railway and police officials, all fair-looking Anglo-Indians. But they mingled with us, played cricket, and even indulged in a few deeply friendly affairs. Outside the house stood huge motorcycles, all official vehicles. In a way the colonial way of life had endured. Christmas was a big affair in every house, and if any house had cooked a special dish word got out.

As one turned into Lover’s Lane a huge bungalow is where a Miss Auto, locally known as Dilbahar, lived alone. Her fruit trees were famed and frequent raids on their fruit resulted in a punishment. Next to Miss Auto’s house was another huge house where again live, alone, a Christian lady named Miss D’Souza. She was strict and needed just the slightest excuse to make us hold our ears and stand for ten minutes.

Then was the house of my dear friend and school and college classmate Asad. His father, Rahman Sahib, was the kindest human being one could encounter. It was a house where we ran around. The other portion of this huge bungalow is where the famous legal expert, a Mr. Qazi, lived.

Then was 11 Mason Road where we lived. In a back portion lived an air force officer named Mr Ishaq, the younger brother of the writer Ashfaq Ahmed. His children were good friends but I understand they have migrated abroad. At the beginning of Lover’s Lane opposite the house of Miss Auto lived the Zafars. Their house was at least four acres and the building massive, for the entire Zafar clan lived there. On the top floor lived the Ansari family known for classical music. Another huge house was that of Mr Malik, another acre of land it covered.

In this elaborate setting lived a truly colonial setting. Other well-known persons of Mason Road were Salman Taseer and the Tirmizi family. Next to them lived Gen Akbar Khan of the Rawalpindi Conspiracy Case. The entire of Mason Road had the richest and elitest families of Lahore. But enough of nostalgia. Let us see what the year 2023 holds for this once elitist place.

We know that 11 Masson Road where once lived Alexander Wilson now has six large houses located there. The house of Miss Auto has four houses, the house of Miss D’souza has eight apartments, the house of Rahman Sahib and Qazi Sahib has five portions, and so the sordid story continues. Where once stood eight massive bungalows now exist 43 dwellings. But then this is the story of ancient, old, colonial and modern Lahore.

There no longer is any sense of what is residential and what is commercial. The laws laid down by the British, which legally speaking still exist in name only, stated that commercial areas must “not exceed 15 per cent of the land area”. When last week I wrote that the current prime minister in an effort to please the trader classes declared the entire Gulberg as ‘commercial’, there was little that any sensible person could do to protest. That state of mind still exists everywhere.

But let us return to the spy who became the principal of the Islamia College, Railway Road. Alexander Wilson was essentially a secret service person assigned to understand the ‘Great Game’ that was going on in India, more so in Lahore. It was no surprise that Kipling wrote about the subject, and one would not be surprised to one day discover that he was, for starters, a spy. No wonder ‘Kim’ was created.

Now Kipling worked in ‘The Civil & Military Gazette’ as an assistant editor, and going through the stories flowing from the Frontier Region, and the people he met in Lahore, he had enough material to write about. That basic material is what much later Wilson picked up to write his famous spy books.

As a schoolboy I loved sitting on Kipling’s chair, a huge leather comfortable piece. Other pieces of historic importance also existed there. But the greatest treasure was the C&MG Archives, which covered almost 100 years of record. One understands that was sold to a British library for a few million pounds. The same was the case of ‘The Pakistan Times’ archives, which lie unused in a Lahore office, unless they have also been sold off.

Talking of archives one of the world’s finest archives of Punjab from the days of the Mughal Akbar to the present allegedly exist in the Civil Secretariat. Large portions of them were thrown in a warehouse by a former chief secretary as he wanted more room than what his massive office allowed. That is a treasure the entire academic world cherishes and wish to own. My understanding is that officials over time have stolen a lot of them. What will happen to the remaining is a guess. Let us leave it at that.