In the heart of Varanasi, a city revered as the holiest for Hindus and the parliamentary constituency of Prime Minister Narendra Modi, lies the historic Dalmandi Market.                                                                     

Its labyrinthine lanes buzz with activity, cycle rickshaws weaving past scooters, the air thick with the aroma of chai and spices, and vibrant fabric stores spilling onto the streets. Hindu pilgrims in saffron robes pass by as Muslim shopkeepers arrange their wares.                                                             

Named after the lentil traders who once dominated the area, Dalmandi (Dal means lentils) has been a hub for merchants, craftsmen, and shopkeepers for centuries.

It was also home to Ustad Bismillah Khan, the legendary musician who was a symbol of Varanasi’s blended culture. 

"The ghats (riverfront steps leading to the Ganges river) are the same, the temple is the same. I pray at the mosque, and then I go to the temple to play my shehnai. This was our way, simple, like a fakir (an ascetic who renounces material comforts) life," he once reminisced.

His shehnai, a type of oboe, echoed through the old lanes of Dalmandi as effortlessly as the azaan, the Muslim call for five daily prayers, rose from nearby mosques. His life and music embodied Varanasi’s Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb (a syncretic culture symbolising Hindu-Muslim unity).

Today, however, Dalmandi faces an uncertain future.

The Kashi Vishwanath Temple Corridor, a flagship project of the Modi government, was designed to make it easier for Hindu pilgrims to access the temple.

For centuries, Varanasi has been known as the “city of death,” where devout Hindus come to die, believing it will bring salvation. The temple, one of Hinduism’s most sacred sites, is central to this belief. The project aims to expand into Dalmandi Market, reducing the distance between the temple and the sacred Ganga River. This expansion will demolish 10,000 businesses, most owned by Muslim shopkeepers who have lived there for generations.

On December 6, 2024, Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath visited Varanasi to review the development plans for Dalmandi. “The road-widening project is a priority, and we want to ensure a smooth flow of traffic for the pilgrims coming to Kashi Vishwanath,” he said.

These words signalled a looming threat to the shopkeepers' livelihoods. It’s a matter of time. 

A legacy under threat

Zafar Hasan, 45, examines an old pocket watch at Abid Hasan Watches, his family’s century-old business. Established in 1908, the shop has been a Dalmandi fixture for over a century. Hasan’s grandfather, a skilled watchmaker, imported Swiss parts and assembled them there.

The rhythmic tick-tock of clocks fills Hasan’s small shop, nestled in a narrow lane of Varanasi’s old city. Wooden shelves are lined with timepieces, some rusted, others gleaming, while a magnifying glass dangles from his neck as he examines a pocket watch, its gears laid bare. Dressed in a crisp white kurta, his grease-stained fingers moving with precision.

The air smells of old leather and machine oil. “Every watch tells a story, some are heirlooms passed down through generations. Others are gifts marking special occasions. I feel like I’m not just repairing watches; I’m preserving people’s histories,” he told TRT World.

“This shop is my inheritance,” Hasan says. “My grandfather built it with his own hands. My father expanded it. And now, I’m trying to keep it alive. But how can I do that when everything we’ve built is being taken from us?”

A short distance from Hasan’s shop sits Yaqub Ansari’s tailoring shop, its origins tracing back to colonial India. The modest space is filled with bolts of fabric and a worn-out sewing machine, while photographs of his ancestors line the walls.

His grandfather, a skilled tailor, was sought-after by both Indian aristocrats and British officers. The British admired his work and commissioned suits. One day, an officer demanded that a sign be placed outside his shop reading, “Indians are not allowed.”

“My grandfather refused,” Ansari says. “He continued to serve all communities equally. His Hindu friends were his regular customers, and he couldn’t accept dividing people,” he told TRT World.

As a child in the 1970s, Ansari recalls running barefoot through these alleys, playing hide-and-seek with friends from both communities. “We used to drink from the same earthen pots and eat at each other’s homes during Eid and Diwali. Varanasi was different then,” he says. For generations, Ansari’s shop catered to everyone, from priests ordering robes to families needing wedding attire.

Ansari remembers his grandfather’s stories about the early days of their tailoring shop. Dalmandi was then an affordable part of the city, known more for its red-light district than its trade.

It was during British rule that the area became associated with courtesans, who were referred to as “dolls” by the British. That is why the area was also known as "Dolmandi" during British rule.  

These courtesans were not just entertainers but also figures who contributed to India’s freedom struggle; their salons also served as secret meeting points for revolutionaries plotting against British colonial rule.

After independence, Dalmandi transitioned into a bustling commercial hub. The narrow lanes are lined with tailoring shops, fabric stores, and jewelry stalls, with a significant presence of artisans crafting brass and copperware catering to both locals and pilgrims

But things changed after 2014, when Indian Prime Minister Modi, a man deeply associated with Hindu nationalism, chose Varanasi as his parliamentary seat. The city that once thrived on its syncretism began transforming into a stronghold of Hindu nationalism.

"The street processions have become more aggressive," Ansari says. "We hear chants of ‘Jai Shri Ram’ (Glory to Lord Ram) not as devotion but as intimidation." Hindu religious processions, once a part of the city’s shared cultural fabric, now carry an undertone of dominance. "It feels like they are marking their territory," he says.

For Ansari, the news of the demolition feels like a betrayal. “There’s no respect for our history, our culture,” he says. “The government is making it easier for pilgrims, but what about us? We’ve been here for generations.”

A city transformed

Varanasi’s cityscape has changed in recent years. The rise of Hindu nationalism, particularly since Modi's tenure began in 2014, has influenced the city's architecture and culture, prioritising Hindu religious identity over its multicultural character.

The tightly packed historic neighbourhoods around the Kashi Vishwanath Temple have been cleared for wide corridors and open plazas, accommodating the growing influx of Hindu pilgrims.

Dr Rajeev Srivastava, 52, a history professor at Varanasi’s Banaras Hindu University, was born and raised in Varanasi. He has witnessed the city’s transformation.

“Varanasi has always been a city of contrasts,” he says. “It’s a place where life and death coexist, where tradition and modernity collide. But the changes we’re seeing now are significant.”

Dr Srivastava argues that these changes are necessary for the city’s development. He believes the Kashi Vishwanath Corridor is a positive step, elevating Varanasi’s status as a global pilgrimage center and boosting economic growth through increased tourism. "The Dalmandi area, while historically significant, must make way for a more streamlined and accessible space for pilgrims," he says.

He alleges that all shops in Dalmandi are illegal encroachments.

"These businesses have been operating without proper authorisation, violating municipal regulations for decades. The government is simply enforcing the law by removing these unauthorised structures."

This framing of “illegal encroachment” has often been used by the Hindu nationalist Yogi Adityanath’s government to demolish properties, primarily those belonging to Muslims.

Shopkeepers in Dalmandi reject these allegations, asserting that their businesses are long established. Ansari says, "Our shops are not illegal. We have documents dating back to the 19th century proving our ownership." He adds, "Municipal records show that businesses have been operating here for generations."

A city divided

Varanasi’s transformation into a ‘Hindu holy city’ involves more than physical changes.

This includes renaming places to emphasise Hindu identity. Streets, ghats, and landmarks have been given names linked to Hindu figures and mythology, replacing older names with Islamic or colonial roots.

This is most apparent at the Gyanvapi Mosque, a gigantic three-domed mosque constructed by the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb in 1669 AD, which sits beside the Kashi Vishwanath Temple. Hindu groups claim the mosque was built over a demolished temple. In 2022, a legal battle erupted after Hindu petitioners alleged the discovery of a Shivling (a sacred Hindu relic) on its premises during a court-ordered survey.

For Varanasi’s Muslims, this stirs painful memories of the Babri Masjid demolition in 1992, when a centuries-old mosque was razed to make way for a Hindu temple in Ayodhya.

Given the historical struggle over the Gyanvapi Mosque, it is not unreasonable to see the Kashi Vishwanath Corridor as a means to maintain a continuous influx of Hindu devotees in the area.

“This isn’t just about my shop,” Hasan says. “It’s about who belongs in this city.”

For those who have called Dalmandi home for generations, the fear isn’t just of losing their businesses; it’s of being erased from Varanasi itself.