Varanasi a city they fell in love with

Socio- ecological course
Foundation studies
Srishti institute of art design and technology
Bangalore
Faculty : Narendra Raghunath, Urvashi Jalali
            

After five days into our immersive nine-day journey to Varanasi, accompanying the students of the Srishti School of Art, Design, and Technology Foundation for their social ecology course, we decided to give the students the freedom to delve deeper into their chosen aspects of the subject within the vibrant tapestry of Varanasi's ghats and alleyways.

Each day of our trip began with the setting of a new agenda for our students. In the evenings, we huddled together to discuss their engagements, discoveries, and analyses. On the initial day, a collective sentiment pervaded the group—an urgent desire to transform the city. Varanasi, they observed, was besieged by congested roads, dilapidated drainages, teetering traffic, an absence of order, a polluted Ganga, and grimy ghats and lanes. They perceived a city seemingly impervious to change.

Yet, as the days unfolded and the students honed in on their individual areas of interest—often concerning the daily lives of ordinary people—they arrived at a different conclusion. The crux of the matter, they realized, was not an inherent problem with Varanasi but rather a misperception held by outsiders. The city thrived on temple pilgrimages, drawing visitors enchanted by its timeless allure and the nostalgic sense of communal living.

As accessibility and prosperity spread across the nation, Varanasi experienced a surge in population influx over the past few years. Interestingly, it was predominantly pilgrims from Andhra and Karnataka who fueled the city's tourism industry. However, traces of Bengal and Maharashtra lingered in the pockets around the ghats, recounting tales of a bygone era. Lane after lane displayed colonial-era architecture, bearing a distinct Bengali influence and signage in Telugu. The aroma of dosa and fried idli wafted through the air, and as queues of South Indian devotees grew at the temple entrances, the locals found themselves increasingly alienated and frustrated. While traders and boatmen rejoiced, other residents of the city watched with concern as outsiders seemed to stake a claim on their gods, temples, and their beloved city.

Beyond the bustling Gyanvapi mosque lane leading to the temple, two other lanes—Kachoudi Galli and the demanding lane—intersected on their way to the sacred site. One was predominantly inhabited by Hindus, while the other was predominantly Muslim. Curiously, you'd seldom find a Muslim in the Hindu lane, but the Muslim lane often welcomed Hindu residents. Beneath the surface, signs of discontent simmered, and it was evident that even a minor incident could escalate into a larger conflict.

These labyrinthine alleys, home to thousands of people, posed a logistical nightmare in the event of a tragedy. No security force or vehicle could penetrate these narrow passages, and with a temple seemingly every few meters, changing the situation seemed an insurmountable challenge. This core part of Varanasi, a repository of millennia-old heritage, appeared destined to remain unchanged. The only notable transformation was the continuous influx of tourists and residents, pushing these gullies to the brink of collapse.

After nine days of exploration, our students returned with a multitude of experiences, insights, and a newfound affection for a city that had initially bewildered them. They all expressed a deep desire to return and contribute to Varanasi through design and innovation. Their stories and discoveries can be found in detail in the accompanying blog.

Urvashi Jalali with students
Buzzling ghats
Muharram procession
Rampant commercialisation of ghat visual culture
A typical Galli crowd
The temple queue
Dominant presence of policemen
BHU Lanka gate traffic block due to vip movement