Bulldozers Roll Through Varanasi’s Culinary Heritage: ‘Pahalwan Lassi’ and ‘Chachi Ki Kachori’ Among 30 Shops Demolished for Road Project
By Tajdar H. Zaidi
In a move that has sparked emotional responses and widespread debate across Varanasi, two of the city’s most iconic culinary landmarks—Pahalwan Lassi and Chachi Ki Kachori—were reduced to rubble on Wednesday morning as part of a large-scale demolition drive initiated for a road widening project.
The demolition was carried out by the Public Works Department (PWD) and forms part of a Rs 241.80 crore infrastructure plan aimed at easing congestion along the Lahartara to Vijaya Mall corridor, a 9.512 km stretch notorious for traffic snarls and chaotic bottlenecks.
A total of 30 shops near the busy Lanka crossing were razed in the drive, which officials say was pre-notified and part of “urban planning imperatives.”
But in a city where food is culture and heritage runs deep, the loss of these two legacy eateries has evoked more than logistical inconvenience—it has triggered a wave of grief, nostalgia, and questions about the cost of modernization.
A Quiet Goodbye to a Beloved Brand: Pahalwan Lassi
For many, Pahalwan Lassi was not just a place to drink thick, creamy lassi—it was a ritual, a memory, a pilgrimage. Established in 1950, the shop stood tall for 75 years, nestled slightly ahead of the Lanka crossing toward Assi, where it served up eight variants of lassi ranging from the humble ₹30 classic to a rich ₹180 version laden with curd, rabri, and cream, all served in eco-friendly kulhads (clay cups).
The outlet had built a global reputation, attracting not just locals and students from nearby Banaras Hindu University, but tourists from the United States, Australia, Japan, and other parts of the world. Over the decades, it even found admirers among India’s political elite.
Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath, Home Minister Amit Shah, Smriti Irani, and former CM Akhilesh Yadav were among the many who had praised its flavor and authenticity.
As the bulldozers arrived, Manoj Yadav, the current owner of the shop, stood in silence. He clasped his hands in prayer and bent down to touch the ground, bidding farewell to the place his family had built with generations of labor and love.
“This was more than a shop—it was our life’s work, our family’s identity,” he said quietly, unable to hold back tears.
Chachi Ki Kachori: A Legacy Cut Short
Perhaps even more steeped in tradition was Chachi Ki Kachori, a humble outlet that had been feeding Banarasis for over 108 years.
Known for its double-layered kachoris stuffed with spiced lentils and hing (asafoetida), accompanied by a flavorful pumpkin sabzi and crispy matka jalebi, the shop was a morning magnet for food lovers. Served on sal leaves, its simplicity was part of the charm.
Located close to the same corridor, the century-old eatery was razed within minutes, despite its historic value and everyday relevance. Regulars mourned the loss not just of a food outlet but of a deep connection to Varanasi’s culinary soul.
“Where else will I find the same kachori, the same jalebi, the same feeling?” asked Satyam Mishra, a 67-year-old resident who had been visiting the shop since childhood.
Why the Demolition Happened
The PWD had issued notices nearly a month ago, marking out structures that would fall within the required expansion zone for the four-lane corridor connecting Lahartara to Vijaya Mall via Bhelupur and Lanka—one of the city’s most congested stretches, especially during peak hours and festival seasons.
Authorities argue that the road widening project is crucial to improving urban mobility and easing vehicular congestion, especially given the increasing number of tourists and devotees visiting Varanasi in recent years.
“We understand the emotional value of these shops, but modernization and public infrastructure must also move forward,” said a senior district official. “Compensation will be provided to all affected shop owners as per government rules.”
Shopkeepers Voice Concerns Over Future Livelihoods
Despite the assurances, anger and anxiety were palpable among other affected vendors and shopkeepers. As soon as the demolition began, many hurried to remove shutters, electric meters, and valuable goods in an attempt to salvage whatever they could.
“We don’t know how we will continue our businesses now. New shops in this area cost anywhere between ₹20,000 and ₹25,000 per month in rent—completely unaffordable,” said Rajesh Jaiswal, a general merchant whose shop was also demolished.
Several displaced shopkeepers say they were given insufficient time to arrange for relocation or alternative setups and have demanded intervention by local MLAs and the municipal administration.
The Price of Progress
The broader question now being asked across Varanasi is: At what cost should urban development be pursued? Can heritage coexist with infrastructure upgrades, or will progress always come with the price of lost legacies?
Urban planners and civic activists argue that more community-inclusive models of redevelopment are possible and necessary in cities like Varanasi, where modernity must walk hand-in-hand with tradition.
As for Pahalwan Lassi and Chachi Ki Kachori—their physical structures may be gone, but their memory lives on in every Banarasi who ever queued up for a matka of lassi or a plate of crispy kachoris on a foggy morning.
Whether those memories will ever be restored in a new location remains to be seen.
