The river is a vision. Slow and imperceptible, it draws close to the city, binding itself to it. Life for the four million inhabitants of Varanasi flows along the Ganges, between tradition and tourism.
The narrow streets of Varanasi's historic centre are a labyrinth. Cows and stray dogs populate the road — a first-impression cliché — while shopkeepers call out to Western tourists. To reach the temple of Shiva you untangle yourself from the tailors' quarter and resist the one belonging to the paneer sellers, that typical Indian cheese. Hammer blows announce a building site, yet another one along the road. A drowsy worker warns you of the danger and the possibility of falling plaster. Turning the corner, keeping close to the wall, you discover a part of the city being rebuilt, or rather demolished. Hundreds of metres through the dust thrown up by the works in progress, all the way to the Ganges. The river is a vision. Slow and imperceptible, it draws close to the city, binding itself to it. A bond that has lasted hundreds of years. A religious, cultural, literary and musical bond. The placid waters belong to the dry season; the watercourse would have looked quite different a few months later. The pale sun betrays a penetrating heat, while an opaque lid of cloud hangs over the city.
Varanasi is one of India's seven sacred cities. Almost four million inhabitants, the country's leading textile hub, but also one of the most polluted places in the nation. In 2017 the city was declared the most polluted in India, while in 2018, according to data released by the World Health Organization, it ranked third among urban centres on the planet in the same grim league table. But the environmental problems are not confined to the appalling levels of air quality, even though these have generated an increase in asthma cases of 25 per cent in recent years. The city in Uttar Pradesh also has unresolved issues relating to access to drinking water, waste disposal and the condition of the Ganges itself. On this last point, a parenthesis opens in which Varanasi on one hand suffers the pollution generated upstream, while on the other it contributes to the overall situation. The Ganges, India's largest river, supplies water to 40 per cent of the country, touching eleven states in total. Its pollution has deep roots and is linked to the domestic and industrial activities of people along its course.
Early in the morning, on the city's ghat — the famous steps leading down to the river — women and men wash sheets and laundry from the hotels. As the sun rises, crowded groups of people linger on the steps in search of a breath of wind to relieve the absence of air, while some young men dive into the Ganges. A practice strongly discouraged by experts, who point to the presence of coliform bacteria in extremely high quantities. A short distance away, past some men cleaning the riverside road of silt left by the rainy season, workers bustle to repair a boat.
"This one's young — it'll be 80 years old," explains a worker as he replaces one of the rotten planks. "Some of these boats are more than 100." In the evening, when the sunset steals colours from the horizon, hundreds of vessels like this one glide along the Ganges laden with enchanted tourists. The oarsmen draw up to Manikarnika ghat, a sacred site for some 30,000 cremations a year, asking visitors not to take photographs out of respect for the ritual and for the dead. A few hundred metres away, following the river, at Dashashwamedh ghat, dozens of boats stand before the daily lamp-lighting ceremony, while between one hull and the next children pass by trying to sell candles and flowers.
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Pollution in Varanasi is deep-rooted and perceptible. Despite the government's efforts, often dismissed as pure rhetoric, the city and the river that runs through it are living through a constant environmental crisis. One of the New Delhi executive's most recent initiatives — one that could have a further impact on Varanasi and the Ganges — is the project launched in November for a new river terminal. An investment of over 25 million euros, carried out in partnership with the World Bank. And while environmentalists debate whether the river clean-up plan is of any practical use, Delhi has also launched a plan worth nearly 200 million euros for the construction of two motorway networks that will connect Varanasi to the cities of Jaunpur, Sultanpur and Lucknow, as well as cutting travel time to the airport. The obvious aim of the project is to increase foreign tourism and make the city a strategic hub in this regard.
Shitala Gali is a narrow alley like many others. It slopes down towards the river to reach Manikarnika Ghat and the cremation rites. A safety net is supposed to protect passers-by from collapses and falling debris, yet people dash through it, covering their heads with their hands. Reaching a small open space, the view widens to take in the effects of the neighbourhood's demolition. Where a building once stood, there is now a small field of bricks. In the middle of the building site stands what was once a temple, in whose shade a few workers are stopping for lunch.
The demolition of the buildings is part of a plan, known as Kashi Vishwanath Mandir Vistarikaran-Saundarayakaran Yojana, drawn up by the state government and strongly backed by current Prime Minister Narendra Modi, with the aim of giving the city room to breathe, improving access to the river and consequently boosting tourism. According to official statements, nearly 75 million euros have been earmarked for the project, which involves the demolition of over 300 historic houses in the area. But not all residents are in agreement. By the end of 2018, just over half of the houses had been destroyed. And while another 90 are awaiting demolition, there are citizens who continue to fight to safeguard their heritage and their history. Indeed, many of the buildings included in the plan are hundreds of years old, and their tenants have lived in them for generations.
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Tourism is increasingly the lens through which the changes taking place in this city in Uttar Pradesh must be understood. While many people enthusiastically embrace the government's new vision for the city, which is said to be capable of "restoring strength" and "giving back dignity" to Varanasi, serious doubts remain both about the real potential of the plans put in place by the executive, estimated in total at just 1.5 billion euros, and about the protection of cultural heritage. There is also the other side of the coin to consider — that of the tourists themselves. Arrival figures point to a rising phenomenon. Tourism, thanks to efforts on cleanliness and accommodation, has in fact smashed every record. The trend is one of extreme growth: in 2001 the total number of visitors was 560,000; by 2013 it was over 5 million; and in 2017 it comfortably exceeded six million. Although the majority of arrivals continue to be of Indian origin, foreign visitors have also increased considerably.
An uneven cascade of money has descended on the sacred city of Uttar Pradesh. Stepping out of the B&B and passing through the bustling fabric market area, you arrive on Dashashwamedh Ghat road. The small public park is a snapshot of tourism's effects. Among the various shops, street artists try to attract visitors while priests dine at the sides. Two miniature Vishnus move through the crowd, collecting a few rupees and quickly tucking them away into a bag. A few hours later, in the late afternoon, those same Vishnus are having their make-up removed by their father on the banks of the Ganges. Once the deity's blue is wiped away, the features of the children emerge.
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In India, tourism accounts for over 10 per cent of gross domestic product, but although it is a vital economic stimulus for helping the poorest sections of the population — as the United Nations has also noted — many experts remain sceptical on the subject. The scepticism stems from the view that this sector, if poorly managed, creates only low-skilled seasonal jobs and benefits the elites. Although Delhi has already taken the problem into consideration in its five-year tourism plan, there is no clarity on how it intends to act to harmonise the situation. The local government has not thoroughly mapped how much money from tourism reaches the poor in Varanasi, nor has it identified the bottlenecks that prevent the most disadvantaged groups from earning a larger share.
Yet solutions do exist, and many of them lie in the awareness of the tourists themselves. According to the London-based think tank Overseas Development Institute, there are several ways to help spread the benefits of tourism. First and foremost: avoid package tours, whose profits never reach the local population. According to Avinash Mishra, director of Uttar Pradesh Tourism, around 50 per cent of foreign visitors arrive in Varanasi this way. But the impacts of tourism are not limited to the flow of money — they also affect water consumption, whose deficit has increased drastically over the years, causing a general rise in prices, as well as contributing to environmental degradation and increased pollution, owing to greater use of boats and land transport.
While on the one hand the government will need to keep its word on the numerous and wide-ranging projects, on the other, a deep awareness of the city's problems on the part of tourists themselves will be essential. Meanwhile, the lights of the lamps go out at Dashashwamedh Ghat. Dozens of boats slowly dock to let the tourists disembark. On the bank, a long line of young vendors waits for potential buyers of the trinkets they hold in their hands. In the distance, the echo of traffic resounds, while two more small Vishnus are having their make-up removed on the banks of the Ganges.