Durgawati Devi remembers Narendra Modi’s November 7 speech almost verbatim. “I thought God had come to our village. He asked about my education, where my parents were from. He asked what I’d want him to do for our village. His concern for these little details of my life left me tongue-tied.” Jayapur’s pradhan beams when recounting her brief exchange with the country’s prime minister, “The women of our village are now learning how to weave. Factories are going to give us employment. I’m certain Modiji will transform Jayapur entirely.”

When adopting the village of Jayapur under his Saansad Adarsh Gram Yojana programme, Modi had urged its 3,205 residents to indentify a birth date for their home. Exactly a year after the National Democratic Alliance (NDA) won an unassailable majority of 336 seats, Jayapur is perhaps the one corner of the country where the government’s claim of ‘sabka saath, sabka vikaas’ will not be openly contested. This village in Uttar Pradesh’s Varanasi district now has three banks, solar streetlights and nearly a dozen bio-toilets. Politicians and bureaucrats apart, doctors and agricultural experts visit often. Farmer Laxman Prasad says, “It’s like we won the lottery.” Wearing a saffron t-shirt with the PM’s face embossed in its centre, 70-year-old Lal Chand Patel pulls out an LED lantern. “One of these was given to every family here. It comes with a solar charger. We can also use it as a radio. It helps us tune into the PM’s Mann ki Baat.”

Mukhai Vanvasi stands on a green patch outside Atal Nagar, a newly built settlement of one-room houses. An adivasi who has never availed himself of the benefits of permanent housing, Vanvasi says, “There are 10 men in my family. We find work in brick kilns or on other people’s farms. Finally, we will now have a place that we can call our own.” Narayan Patel, the pradhan’s pratinidhi (representative) and brother-in-law, says that a settlement for the Vanvasis was Modi’s idea alone. “He said he’d like to do something for those who were the most disadvantaged in Jayapur, and you can now see that he does what he says.” Patel spells out the PM’s ambitious vision — “By 2022, all of India’s villages will be more like Jayapur.”

Jayapur’s immediate neighbourhood, however, tells a different story. Shiv Shankar Pandey, a resident of Singahi, can reach the PM’s adopted village in a matter of minutes, but the imagined distance, he says, is getting longer by the day. “I too am Modiji’s constituent. I voted for him, but only Jayapur is getting the benefits of his attention. We don’t get electricity for hours. We don’t get clean drinking water.” As if on cue, a power outage interrupts a television bulletin about Modi’s recent Dantewada speech. Sweating profusely, his wiry frame quaking, Hari Shankar Pandey returns from his fields. His ire palpable. “I will say this in front of a thousand people if I have to — Modi is anti-farmer! Industrialists will have their taxes waived, but farmers won’t get a decent meal. My land must be worth at least ₹10 crore. This Land Acquisition Bill will not get me even half that sum.”

Pandey rails against an increasing divide between the rich and the poor. He echoes that familiar ‘suit boot ki sarkar’ admonishment. The farmer, who had voted for Modi in 2014, says the PM has now lost his approval and his vote.

On May 16, 2014, Modi’s hold in the Varanasi constituency seemed absolute. His tally of 5,81,022 votes was staggering. A year later, though, that confidence has shaken. While news of ₹18,349 crore being earmarked for the development of Varanasi impresses some, many are growing impatient at the lack of tangible change. The PM’s supporters often argue that one year can’t be a fair measure for intent or achievement. His critics, however, say they need a cure for the contagion — which Modi helped spread — of great expectation.

A river runs through it

In April last year, Modi said he had reached Kashi after having been called by ‘Maa Ganga’ — “I feel like a child who has returned to his mother’s lap.” In November, he took a spade and shovelled away at Assi ghat. Ram Das Sahni says he was witness to the many photo-ops that day. “Assi is cleaner, yes, but apart from that, there has been no change whatsoever. There’s less garbage on four out of 87 ghats. On the river, you can see the animal carcasses float past,” rues the boatman. At 33, Anil Kumar Sahni lacks the restraint of his older colleague. He has heard of the ₹20,000 crore that has been allocated to the National Mission for Clean Ganga. “You have this money being spent on Ganga’s cleaning, but you can’t tell if it’s a river or a drain.”

Sahni says that with numerous sewers emptying effluents into the Ganga, its water has now become toxic. “A few years ago, we’d drink water from the river when we were thirsty. The water is now so polluted that we can’t even think of bathing in it. To drink it, we’d have to be Lord Shiva. Poison can linger in his throat, not ours.” A professor of electronics engineering at the Indian Institute of Technology on Banaras Hindu University’s (BHU) campus, Vishwambhar Nath Mishra bolsters Sahni’s gripe with numbers. In Varanasi, he says, 350 million litres of sewage are dumped into the Ganga every day. Fecal coliform bacteria — “the main cause behind water-borne diseases” — enter the river without being treated. If measured upstream, the count of the bacteria is almost 90 times more than permissible limit for bathing. Downstream, the number increases to 3,000 times.

“There were at first 22 points from which drains dumped sewage into the Ganga. Now there are 33. The Ganga is dying and all they are concerned about is a cosmetic change like the cleaning of Assi. The problem here is not one of management. The problem here is that of political will,” says Mishra, who is also the mahant (head priest) of Varanasi’s Sankat Mochan temple. Behind Mishra hangs a framed photograph of the prime minister listening to the priest’s instructions in rapt attention. “He had sought my advice about the Ganga in the run-up to the elections,” explains the IIT professor. “The last time I met Modiji, I did so with affection and I will do the same today. He should understand Benares more. If you’re my benefactor, you should know that a gift of 20 Godrej cupboards will be cumbersome.”

Though Pandit Channulal Mishra supported Narendra Modi’s nomination from Varanasi last year, he dismisses political questions. “Ask me about the notes that make Darbari instead.” Finally, a remark about his MP’s performance punctures the musician’s reticence. “How can one man clean the Ganga so quickly? For there to be cleanliness, every person will have to be responsible. We will all have to adopt the PM’s mindset. Every man will have to become Modi.”

Documentary filmmaker Bishwajeet Mookherjee recently stood on the steps of a ghat, framing a wide shot. He heard a man shout, “Don’t dirty the Ganga with your shoes.” Mookherjee turned to see a sign that banned the use of soap in the river. “There was my chastiser, covered in shampoo, chest-deep in the Ganga. The irony was perfect.”

Too smart for class

Varanasi might not be the best prototype for the PM’s much-touted Swachh Bharat Abhiyan. On a wall adjacent to a roadside tap, a pen company has plastered a poster that spells ‘I Love Modi’ in a bold font. Beside the sink, there sits an overflowing garbage can. The uncollected litter now pours onto the street. A consultant to film production crews that have worked in the city, Gyaneshwar Shukla confesses that despite Modi’s efforts, unblemished locations in Varanasi are hard to come by. He frowns at a cow that noses its way into our conversation, but then admits to a weakness he shares with most Banarasis — the ubiquitous paan. “I was an offender myself, but I now look for a proper place to spit. A whole city’s apathy will be difficult to shake.”

Author and columnist Vishwanath Pandey believes that the city’s littering and paan-chewing habits only form the cultural aspect of Varanasi’s larger structural quandary. “In the past 60 years, I have seen cities like Allahabad grow substantially, but in Benares, everything has been dumped into a fixed geographical area. The city needs to expand and it needs to expand quickly,” says BHU’s retired information and public relations officer.

With 36 lakh residents, and a population density of 2,399 persons per sqkm Varanasi is bursting at its seams. By reviving an outer ring road project, the Modi government is working towards decongestion. Its proposal of developing satellite towns has further emboldened Varanasi’s ambition for more space. Sanskrit scholar and journalist Amitabha Bhattacharya is enthused by these plans. “In this past year, Narendra Modi has proved that he is the best MP we have had in the last three decades. But I am concerned by his aspiration to turn Varanasi into a ‘smart city’. The need of the hour is to be sensible, not smart.”

Ever since Modi and Japanese PM Shinzo Abe signed an MoU to develop Varanasi into a Kyoto-like smart city in August, Benarasis have been confounded by the spectre of irreversible change. Rajendra Tiwari, mahant of the Kashi Vishwanath temple, says that Modi’s talk far exceeds the action on the ground. “It is unfortunate that without understanding the true relevance of Kashi, our PM is using the template of another city to transform it. Kashi is a city of reflection, not resources.” Tiwari talks of a WhatsApp message that has been doing the rounds in Varanasi this past month. “It says we have elected Vasco da Gama as our MP. He is on a mission to discover the world.”

Mayor of Varanasi since 2012, Ram Gopal Mohley returned from a trip to Kyoto only a fortnight ago. The BJP leader has a rather bemusing line of defence to silence his prime minister’s many detractors. “Kashi is the world’s spiritual and cultural capital. Thanks to a boon bestowed by Lord Shiva, the first rays of the sun fall on Japan. There isn’t much difference between Kashi and Kyoto. They’re both cities of temples and lanes.”

Mohley iterates that the Modi government does not want to demolish Kashi in order to build a new Kyoto. “I saw that while Kyoto had kept its traditions intact, it has used modern techniques to develop itself. We want to lend our culture to Kyoto and borrow its techniques.” Usually known for its effective communication machinery, the BJP hasn’t convinced everyone on the merit of using Kyoto as a prototype. Varanasi isn’t distrustful of modernity itself, rather it seems wary of nebulous words such as ‘smart.’

Author of Benares: A Journey Within, Roli Jindal believes that though Modi has the right intent, her hometown desperately needs to see a comprehensive plan for the year 2030 or 2040. “We are only hearing of piecemeal initiatives. Beyond that, we can’t see a big picture of what the city will look like 20 or 30 years from now. Once you have that vision, people will then know what to work towards.”

State of the nation

When the Obamas visited in January this year, the city’s weavers had pieced together a rare gift for the American First Lady — a hundred Banarasi saris. But that was a rare moment in the limelight for Varanasi’s weavers. With declining demand, Kalim Hashmi has not worked his loom for 10 days now. Saeed-ur Rahman, owner of Taj Estate, one of Varanasi’s leading sari emporiums, says that weavers like Hashmi first need to be financed by Modi and his government.

“Once those at the bottom are propped up, the industry should be given the benefits of uninterrupted electricity and water. If the textile industry has to be helped, the everyday problems of a weaver will have to be addressed.” The prime minister had inaugurated a trade facilitation centre for the textile sector in November with typical pageantry.

“The only trouble,” says Rahman, “is that this centre is in Lalpur. It is outside the city and far from where most weavers live and work. It isn’t very useful.”

BJP’s MLA from Varanasi North, Ravindra Jaiswal admits that the location of the trade centre isn’t quite ideal. But he quickly shifts the blame, “The centre had to come up in Lalpur because even after six months of negotiation, the Uttar Pradesh government did not give us any land within the city.” He adds that the Samajwadi Party leadership and the district administration have tried to deliberately stall projects like the ring road’s construction and a highway’s expansion.

The MLA then deftly makes a pitch for Assembly elections in 2017: “People are now realising that development will hasten only when the same party forms the government at the Centre and in the state.”

Jaiswal’s claim rings true on Varanasi’s streets. A BJP voter since the party’s inception, taxi driver Mahendra Pratap Singh had loaned his car for electioneering purposes last May. “As a driver, I know roads better than anything else. I can tell you this — nothing has changed. Making and maintaining roads is the responsibility of the UP government. The prime minister of the country will not give up his duties to come and get a pothole fixed.” In its battle against Akhilesh Yadav’s Samajwadi government, the BJP’s Varanasi unit is strangely not being helped by the fact that it has a parliamentarian, a mayor and three MLAs on its side. Prince Pandey, a 25-year-old branch president of the party’s Yuva Morcha, reduces the idea of an inharmonious federal structure to a simple analogy. “Think of it like a game of kabaddi. We are trying to touch that line of success, but the Samjawadi government keeps dragging us back.”

Sanjay Srivastava, professor of sociology at Jawaharlal Nehru University, doesn’t buy this comparison. He says no historical evidence suggests that the same ruling party at the Centre and state can ensure extraordinary economic development, policy implementation and infrastructure building. “If that were the case, states like Madhya Pradesh should have been highly developed by now.” Though flawed, the BJP’s logic of persecution again raises the expectations of an electorate. “Modi was promoted as an antithesis to an apparently impotent Manmohan Singh, as a man who’ll get things done immediately. But you will just end up setting your party and candidate up for eventual failure,” says Srivastava.

Retired high school teacher Gajraj Singh lives in Machhali Shahar, a city adjacent to Varanasi. A loyal Congress voter, Singh switched sides to the BJP after hearing Modi deliver a speech. “The BJP won in my constituency, but I haven’t seen my MP, Ram Charitra Nishad, even once after May 16.” Singh feels shortchanged by the Modi government, but says he will still vote for the BJP in 2017. “I’ve had enough of UP’s caste-based politics. No Mayawati or Mulayam Singh Yadav for me.”

His saffron turban apart, Ganesh Pandey wears many hats. Affiliated to the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, the BJP worker also works at a Central Bank of India agency in a village near Varanasi’s airport. “It’s clear to me that the PM’s Jan Dhan Yojana has had a resounding impact. Modiji has shown us a trailer. The best is yet to come.” Pandey lists the BJP’s achievements over a cup of tea. It is finally the mention of corruption that forces Jitendra Kumar Gupta to intervene. Not disheartened by Arvind Kejriwal’s dismal showing in Varanasi last year, the AAP volunteer still thinks his party is a viable alternative. “There’s a lot to read after Modi became PM, but nothing to see. If you want growth, start looking towards AAP.”

It is tempting to look at Varanasi as a microcosm. Its lanes and inhabitants tell stories that are often translated for a national audience in television debates and newspaper headlines. PM Modi carries a double burden here. As his policies are lauded and his speeches ridiculed, he shoulders the responsibility of reversing nearly 68 years of neglect.

The enormity of this task, however, isn’t impelling Banarasis to show mercy. They seem determined to hold their Member of Parliament to account. Gaurav Kapoor, chief curator of the Banaras Utsav, believes the Modi sarkar is suffering a perception deficit.

“The hot air of their Gujarat model is fast withering away. They need to come up with a Benares model of development soon. If the BJP hopes to win UP, the PM should be able to point to Benares and say — ‘This is what’s possible here.’” Kapoor invents an adage for Modi’s future in Varanasi — “If the PM can’t, no one ever will.”