No account of Kartarpur Saheb Gurdwara – the final resting place of Sikhism’s founder, Guru Nanak, in Pakistan, which was recently engulfed by the Ravi's flood waters – can be deemed complete without recalling nearby Kalanaur, where the 13-year-old Mughal prince Akbar was formally anointed Emperor of Hindustan in 1565.

Separated by less than 20 km, the two sites stand as contrasting markers of Indian history: Kartarpur embodies the enduring spirituality of Sikhism’s birth, rooted in equality and community service, while Kalanaur’s Takht-i-Akbari reflects the consolidation of once-untrammelled imperial power – now almost completely erased from collective memory.

The contrast between the two geographically proximate sites also highlights differing facets of India’s multi-layered heritage. Kartarpur thrives as a vibrant centre of Sikh faith, opened to Indian pilgrims for day-long visits since 2019, but is currently closed after Operation Sindoor. Kalanaur’s Takht, on the other hand, has all but vanished into mental and conscious obscurity, underscoring the complex interplay of past Indian identity, memory and heritage politics.

Recent visits to both places revealed that while the former site pulses with life, devotion and remembrance, the other barely survives as a fading relic. The Takht remains an abandoned witness to an emperor’s 49-year-long reign, whose power significantly shaped India’s political map, laying the foundations of governance, administration and imperial structures that influenced the subcontinent for centuries and do so even now in scant measure.

Hastily constructed under the orders of Bairam Khan, the regent-minder of young Jalal-ud-Din Muhammad Akbar, the red-brick Takht marked the rise of a grandee who would, in time, be celebrated globally as the Great Mughal, leaving behind monuments and sites that defined an empire’s brilliance.

But today, surrounded by modest homes and shops and mustard fields, the Takht lies secreted at the end of a narrow lane, stumbled upon almost accidentally by curious history buffs. Though ostensibly under the protection of the Archaeological Survey of India, it shows little care, beyond a small, weathered plaque that prosaically – almost apologetically – declares its pivotal place in India’s turbulent medieval times.

Few in Kalanaur, a town with nearly 16,000 inhabitants in Punjab’s Gurdaspur district, too, are even aware of the Takht’s existence, and those who are, usually dismiss inquiries concerning its whereabouts with a shrug, advising against visiting it as a waste of time. Hence, with neither preservation nor interpretive effort to highlight its significance, the Takht now blends seamlessly with Punjab’s familiar rural rhythm of cultivated farmland, wandering livestock and mountains of garbage.

Built from locally sourced red bricks, the Takht-i-Akbari is a modest masonry platform of about 11 square meters that once stood in a vast open area, presently two kilometres from Kalanaur’s bustling centre. At its heart lies a square tank, five feet deep, with simple, yet elegant, floral carvings etched on its corners. This water feature, a recurring motif in Mughal design, was conceived for aesthetic effect, for when filled, it would have mirrored Akbar’s 14 February 1565 coronation with striking brilliance. The water overflow was channelled into four smaller reservoirs, amplifying the platform’s measured symmetry and enhancing its elegant but understated grandeur.

However, even 460 years later, the Takht retains a quiet authority and gravitas, subtly reminding us that the vast sweep of Akbar’s dynamic lifespan began in the most unassuming of settings, far from the glitter of opulent Mughal darbars.

A cross-section of historians, accessed online, noted that, though modest, the structure embodied careful planning and foresight, portraying the administrative order and discipline Akbar would later impose across India. Many concurred that its precise design symbolised Akbar’s early assertion of unostentatious but grand sovereignty, reflecting a broader Mughal tendency to use the majesty of architecture to project political authority and robust, but unquestioning governance.

Thereafter, from this modest platform, the young Akbar, inheriting an empire fractured by strife and invasion, embarked on a campaign to consolidate Mughal power that would dominate India for the next 150 years, with his dynasty enduring for another century beyond. Nine months later, in November 1556, aided by Bairam Khan, Akbar defeated the Hindu king Hemu (Hem Chandra Vikramaditya) at the Second Battle of Panipat, a victory that decisively reshaped the subcontinent’s destiny.

And though separated in time – Nanak passed away in 1539, 17 years before Akbar was anointed at Kalanaur – the two remain connected through the legacies they shaped in Punjab. By this time, Nanak’s teachings had already begun spreading widely, creating a spiritual awakening that challenged orthodoxy and caste divisions, and by the time Akbar consolidated Mughal power, the Sikh community had grown significantly in number.

The Mughal emperor, for his part, also revealed an unusual openness to spiritual figures beyond the fold of orthodox Islam, and his respectful engagements with successive Gurus of the newly emerging faith would come to occupy a distinctive place in Mughal-Sikh interactions.

Akbar’s first significant interaction was with Guru Amar Das, the third Sikh Guru, at Goindwal in the late 1560s, where he was invited to partake in the langar, the community meal.  The young Mughal sovereign, accustomed to courtly hierarchies, accepted humbly, symbolising a rare moment when temporal power bowed before spiritual equality, and partook of the simple meal, seated on the floor beside peasants, soldiers and mendicants. This act, remarkable for a ruler of Akbar’s stature, underscored Sikh egalitarian ideals and, according to contemporary Sikh accounts, left Akbar deeply impressed,

Consequently, he is said to have granted revenue exemptions to surrounding villages, reflecting admiration for the Sikh community and its growing influence. He also offered Amar Das land to help sustain the langar, but was politely turned down; the Guru maintained that the langar needed support not via royal grant, but through hard work and sacrifices by community members themselves.

Three years after Ram Das succeeded his father-in-law Guru Amar Das as the fourth Sikh Guru in 1574, Akbar is believed to have granted him land, which he began excavating as the sacred Amrit Sarovar, around which grew the settlement of Ramdaspur. Over time, this blossomed into Amritsar, the spiritual centre of Sikhism, further cementing cordial bonds between the Mughal sovereign and the Sikh faith rooted in egalitarian ideals.

And though later Mughal rulers pursued harsher policies towards the Sikhs. Akbar’s interaction with the third and fourth Gurus remains significant. They symbolised a brief but important historical era when Delhi’s raw imperial power and Sikh spiritualism mutually respected each other.

Tracing the journey back to Kartarpur Sahib Gurdwara and Kalanaur, one immediately senses how differently history and devotion have left their marks on each. Kartarpur bears no coronation stone and, over centuries, has been repeatedly inundated by the Ravi’s floodwaters, yet it has endured – rebuilt each time by generations of devotees who refused to let Nanak’s belief in prayer, community service, and the langar fade.

Conversely, Akbar’s Takht-i-Akbari, once a symbol of imperial ambition, survives as well, yet languishes in quiet decay, its former splendour gradually eclipsed by time.

In essence, Kalanaur belongs to history books; Kartarpur, to living faith.

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