Sujanpur’s silent ruins: Fort and temples cry out for rescue

Perched on the serene banks of the Beas, the Sujanpur Tira Fort and the Nerveshwar Temples once shimmered as proud emblems of Himachal Pradesh’s cultural and spiritual grandeur. Today, however, their stones whisper a dirge of neglect — centuries of artistry left to battle rain, weeds and official indifference.

The 18th-century Sujanpur Fort, built by Raja Abhaya Chand of the Katoch dynasty and glorified under the reign of the legendary Raja Sansar Chand, was not just a fortress of defence. It was a cradle of art and intellect, where palaces stood tall, courts resonated with royal debates and the Kangra school of miniature paintings flourished into timeless jewels of Indian heritage.

Yet step into the fort today, and grandeur gives way to despair. Royal chambers have collapsed into rubble. Walls crack open, their murals — once glowing with tales from the Ramayana and Mahabharata — fading into dust. Shrubs sprout between stones, their roots prying apart centuries-old foundations. “It’s heart-breaking,” sighs Sheetal, a history student. “You come expecting to witness heritage, but you only see ruins abandoned to die.”

A few streets away, the Nerveshwar Temples, once sanctuaries of devotion and artistry dedicated to Lord Shiva, share a similar fate. Time and negligence have gnawed at their stone carvings and sculptures, once celebrated for their intricacy. Moss, weeds and litter now replace reverence, leaving idols weather-beaten and shrines crumbling.

What makes this decline unforgivable is that it is no secret. Activists and locals have long raised alarms, but official responses often shrink to hollow assurances, surveys, or budget lines that vanish in bureaucratic red tape. Even temple priests like Suresh Sharma of the Gauri Shankar Temple warn of leaking roofs, ignored for years despite repeated pleas.

Historians argue these monuments could have become world-class heritage tourism destinations, nurturing both pride and prosperity for Himachal. Instead, every monsoon washes away another brushstroke, another carved detail, another chapter of history. “You can rebuild walls,” says OP Gupta, an octogenarian resident, “but you can never recreate artistry centuries old. Once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.”

The Archaeological Survey of India maintains that repair work is being undertaken, with reports sent for further approvals. The Katoch royal family, who still hold title, affirm ASI’s role in upkeep but stop short of addressing the visible decline.

Meanwhile, the fort and temples continue to crumble. Their neglect is not just Himachal’s tragedy, but India’s. They are not mere ruins of stone, but ruins of memory — a shared cultural legacy slipping into silence while their stories beg to be preserved.