It is indeed heartbreaking when a bookstore shuts down or when signboards announce its conversion into something with better commercial prospects.

A one passes by, a loosely-hung banner declares that the building is to be converted into a shoe market. One’s heart sinks for this is where the majestic Ferozsons once stood. It offered thousands of volumes and was an iconic landmark for the city of Lahore.

Lahore has often prided itself on being the cultural capital of the region. It is also a city with many universities and colleges, encompassed in the vast gardens that characterised the landscape. The sounding of the death knell for a cultural icon belies our city’s past.

Ferozsons shifted out of the premises several years ago. It can be said that it also ceased to be the bookshop once known for its ample spaces and well-stocked shelves. Gradually, the building, too, became dilapidated and gave the impression of being abandoned. The roof caved in following a fire. After a rainstorm a few years later, a dome collapsed. The following year, what remained of the roof was demolished. One hoped that the structure was to be repaired. However, the structure remained in that condition, bearing ignominy and shame, till a shabby cloth banner announced that it was to become the site of a prospective shoe market.

The structure had at one time proudly announced itself as Ghulam Rasool Building. It was one of a handful of buildings owned by Muslims in the colonial era when The Mall was formally laid out and gradually built around. One would learn eventually that the owner was the ancestor of the popular film star Aslam Pervez. Later, when one got to know a little more about the higher aspects of life one also learnt about his elder brother, the painter Moin Najmi. Behind the façade of the shops, lay Victoria Park, a complex of town houses laid out cleanly in the heart of the city.

Ferozsons Publishers had started in the Walled City in the 19th Century. It had later moved to Sheranwala Bagh and then Circular Road; later still to Empress Road. The bookshop was established around the time of the creation of this country. It was where one spent a lot of time browsing through a combination of English and Urdu books and gazing at the glitzy covers of many magazines. For local publications of a certain quality, Ferozsons was the haunt for those looking for them.

Then there was space for cards, birthday and Eid cards, and other gifts that could be bought for the loved and caring ones. It was all a cultural zeroing in for those aspiring for a civilised lifestyle and its quaint attendant gestures.

The Mall has, over the years, lost a number of book shops and no one seems to be really bothered about it. There was Mirza Book Agency on the Regal crossing, facing The Mall. There were also bookshops in Naqi Market, like the Allied and the International, where many book lovers and intellectuals bought their books. Then there was Book Centre and Imperial Book Depot where mostly English-medium textbooks were sold.

On the opposite side, where the Hall Road took off, there was Classic, a magnet for the people to gather, browse, discuss and be involved in what was happening in the busiest square of the city, at times revving up in protests. Alongside was Vanguard which shifted here after it was first established on Davis Road in the late 1970s. The Dyal Singh Mansion, too, had a couple of bookshops, Paramount being one of them; and probably Maqbool Books. Opposite the Lahore High Court, on the road street leading to McLeod, was the Peoples Publishing House. It has the cheapest books on its shelves. A poorly-stocked Mavra Books now stands alone.

Taking a stroll along the road, peeping into showrooms, window shopping and browsing through books used to be a treat; an evening soaked in culture. The bookshops were inviting, allowing people to touch, browse and loll about, savouring the events and happenings of the day. Many people in the early days after Partition used to take a stroll from the Gol Bagh (Nasser Bagh) to where Alhamra now stands. The road was laid with bars, restaurants, tea and coffee joints, dance floors and hotels. First the bars and liquor shops disappeared, then the dance floors and now the bookshops.

The past is gone, leaving behind endless queues of cars and a mad rush of motorcycles.

The writer is a culture critic based in Lahore.