A trip to Varanasi: the sacred city transformed into a symbol of modernity

VaranasiVaranasi, known as Kashi to devotees or Benares to the British, is a mythical city suspended between sacredness and legend, where for centuries pilgrims and travelers have sought the absolute. "Older than history, older than lore, older than legend," as Mark Twain wrote, it has represented for millennia the beating heart of Indian spirituality, attracting millions of pilgrims each year in search of purification and redemption. An initiatory journey that every Hindu devotee dreams of undertaking at least once in their lifetime. At dawn, when a silvery mist hangs over the sacred waters of the Ganges, the ghats The stone steps, polished by centuries, are filled with silent figures. Amidst flower petals floating like offerings, flames dancing on the waves, and the hypnotic echo of ancient mantras, the city of the god Chiva awakens surrounded by a mystical and timeless aura. Of all the world's oldest cities, Varanasi is perhaps the only one that has so tenaciously preserved its own soul, keeping ancient traditions alive despite the passage of time. Today, the city faces its greatest challenge: it is precisely that soul that is endangered by the challenges of the modern world.

Beyond the silent ones ghats And within the labyrinthine alleyways of the old city, where modest houses and ancient temples merge in an indissoluble architectural embrace, sprawls a metropolis of over two million souls, amidst clouds of pollution and streets clogged by chaotic traffic. Varanasi has become a crucial node in Prime Minister Narendra Modi's vision of the New India, having chosen this very city as the political and symbolic laboratory for his national project. It is here that Modi has built his image as a leader, not only politically, but also spiritually. He has chosen the city as his electoral district and has won by wide margins: from 56.4% in 2014 to 63.6% in 2019, and 54.24% in 2024. In the contemporary political landscape, this ancient city projects itself toward the technological and economic future of the country.

A process of modernization

Varanasi has become a cornerstone of the urban and infrastructural modernization program launched by Modi, within the framework of so-called "smart cities." The most emblematic project of this vision, the Kashi Vishwanath Corridor, has transformed the face of the city's sacred heart in just a few years (2019-2021). Where a labyrinth of medieval alleyways once stretched, now a wide avenue of some 500 meters unfolds, connecting the Chiva Temple directly to the Ganges, monitored by metal detectors and security cameras. Pilgrims move in orderly lines among souvenir shops, fast-food chains, digital entertainment venues, and luxurious ceremonial spaces. The numbers seem to support the transformation: Pulkit Garg, of the Varanasi Development Authority, states that the project "is a success that has brought an increasing number of pilgrims to the city, around 57 million in 2022 alone." The absolute record was achieved on January 1, 2024, when the city welcomed 700,000 visitors in a single day.

Behind the efficiency of Varanasi's new face, however, lies a significant social cost. Nearly 400 families were evicted to make way for the corridor, many of whom received minimal or no compensation, according to several local NGOs. "We are modernizing the city, not destroying it. Many of the demolished houses were built illegally, and the former residents were compensated," says Vidya Sagar Rai of the BJP (Bharatiya Janata Party, Modi's party). But an investigation by The Indian Express It was verified that only 38% of those displaced actually received new housing, while the majority were relegated to outskirts 15-20 km from the river.

Historical trades such as ritual flower vendors, boatmen, and artisans have been excluded from the new sacred geography. The nishadsThe boatmen who have transported pilgrims for centuries have seen how, with the arrival of large cruise ships (90% operated by Gujarati companies, according to port records), 420 boatman families risk losing their livelihoods. "These boats are stealing our bread," says boatman Vikramaditya Nishad. "However, we are the true children of Mother Ganga." The introduction of paid entrance fees for Kashi Vishwanath (introduced in 2021 at 300 rupees for foreigners—just over €3—and 50 for Indians), previously free for all, has brought renewed criticism of the government, accused of transforming sacred spaces into impoverished areas; the Ganges, which continues to receive tons of untreated waste every day.

Commercializing spirituality

The ambition for modernity, however, doesn't stop there: the cable car project (estimated budget around €140 million) will connect the train station to the sacred corridor by 2026. Plans are in place to extend it to the airport in the future. A second corridor is already being considered, as well as the construction of a luxury Taj hotel on the banks of the Ganges. "But many denounce the growing commercialization of spirituality. The fusion of capitalism and religious nationalism, fueled by the ideology of reviving Hindu glory, prioritizes mass tourism at the expense of protecting local communities. The transformation of the Kashi Vishwanath temple is a contemporary example of this: the contention of disputed places of worship. Within the new corridor, the Gyanvapi Mosque has been incorporated, now surrounded by metal barriers and wire. Claims that it was built in the 17th century on the ruins of the Narrative Masjid in Ayodhya, whose destruction in 1992 unleashed a spiral of interfaith violence, reflect a position increasingly prevalent among supporters of Hindu nationalism. But the Muslim community, an integral part of the city's history and economy, especially in the production of the famous saris, rejects these claims. Every day, Indian media report on new conflicts over disputed places of worship, fueling social tensions." "It's the tragedy of our time," sighs Salim, a local journalist. "They want to make us feel like foreigners in our own land. That we've stopped loving India the way we do."

Not even the funeral rites, sacred for millennia and deeply rooted in the symbolic heart of Varanasi, have been untouched by the race toward modernization. Kashi, also known as the City of the Good Death, sees in the most tragic deaths on the banks of the Ganges not a sign of finitude, but of eternity. A short walk from the Chiva temple, in the iconic ghat At Manikarnika, where the worst cremations have been carried out ceaselessly for centuries to free souls from the cycle of reincarnation, signs and billboards announce the construction of a new "technological" complex intended to improve hygiene and space management. Similar interventions are planned at the smaller Harish Chandra Ghat. Opinions are divided. Some interpret each change as the will of the god Chiva and, therefore, as something to be accepted without question. But there are also those who, with a disillusioned look, question its durability and authenticity. "New things last ten, fifteen years," observes a young man from the Dom caste with a caustic tone. "The old ones last for centuries." Even Manta Prasad, an elderly member of the same caste who for generations has managed the cremations at the ghatHe is skeptical: "They've already reduced the space for the worst ones by a third, and nobody has asked us how we imagine our future."