Temple town, Tinseltown

The new Ayodhya, remodelled as a glitzy temple town, exudes celebratory spirit and promises limitless development. But a closer look reveals its contradictions and discontent

- Tanul Thakur

AYODHYA, like an anxious orator, talks in its sleep. After 10 in the night, the town plunges into deep silence. The shopkeepers, hawkers, and devotees have retired for the night; the loudspeakers, pouring out devotional songs, are quiet. But on the main revamped road, the Ram Janmabhoomi Path, the shops' shutters are wide awake. Wearing a fresh coat of black paint, they display diverse saffron signages: two arrows, a bow, a mace-turned trident, a Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) flag, a crown-wearing Hanuman, and a phrase that showers, sweeps, and cleanses the town, mutating into a greeting, a clarion call, a bhajan, an identity: "Jai Shree Ram".

Two weeks before the Ram temple's consecration, Ayodhya resembles an event management firm rushing through last-minute preparations-or a mythological film set under construction. Near its roads, buildings and temples spread soil, sand and stones. JCB machines rumble; cranes and forklifts saunter; construction workers plaster, paint, hammer. Over the last one-and-a-half years, the town has changed so much that several natives say, "It feels like we can't recognise our own home."