Bhubaneswar unites temple heritage with smart city growth, shaping a model for sustainable tourism and culture
Dr. Adyasha Das
Whenever I walk through Bhubaneswar’s Old Town, I feel as though I’m slipping between two times at once. The fragrance of flowers offered at Lingaraj, the sight of sandstone walls glowing in the late afternoon sun, the quiet lapping of water at Bindusagar — these are reminders of a rhythm much older than the city around them. And yet, only a short drive away, traffic circles, smart roads, and glass buildings announce that Bhubaneswar is a modern capital with global ambitions.
Bhubaneswar reads like a conversation between eras: a living cluster of sandstone temples and sacred tanks nested inside a rapidly modernizing capital. Its dual identity, as both an ancient “temple city” and a modern smart city, is no coincidence but a lesson in itself: heritage and contemporary urban growth can serve as complementary pillars of a resilient and unique city character, rather than as conflicting forces.
This duality is not a contradiction to me; it is the city’s greatest strength. But it will only remain so if we learn to protect it deliberately. Sentiment alone won’t save our temples or our forests — what is needed is a strategy that respects both memory and modernity. For me, revitalizing Bhubaneswar rests on three intertwined commitments: protecting the ancient heart of Ekamra Kshetra, managing the flow of visitors with care, and connecting the city outward to the surrounding green landscapes.
First, the ancient core. Every time I visit Old Town, I notice how precariously daily life and heritage balance. Temples stand next to vegetable sellers; pilgrims jostle with schoolchildren and scooters. It’s a living city, not an open-air museum.
That is why preservation cannot be limited to stone repairs or cosmetic projects. It must weave conservation into everyday infrastructure: shaded walkways, clean drainage, and safe spaces for both worshippers and visitors. Most importantly, it must draw in priests, artisans, and residents as partners. Their lives are already bound to these temples; unless they see themselves in the plan, preservation will feel like an imposition.
Second, visitor management. I have often watched traffic choke the narrow lanes leading to Lingaraj or seen tourists unsure of where to go next. These are simple problems with simple fixes: perimeter parking, limited vehicle entry, and better signage. Digital tools can help — booking systems, crowd dashboards, interpretive apps — but what matters most is that we make the experience respectful. When tourists linger at cultural programmes or craft markets in nearby lanes, I’ve seen how money flows beyond the temple steps and into homes and workshops. That is where authenticity survives.
Third, the eco-heritage corridor. I grew up visiting places like Nandankanan and Chandaka, where the forest still whispers its old stories. To me, these are not “add-ons” to Bhubaneswar but extensions of the same living heritage.
Linking them with the temple city through curated day circuits and community homestays is more than tourism — it is an invitation for visitors to see Odisha whole: sacred, natural, and human. The state is already taking encouraging steps here, with eco-lodges, wildlife safaris, and rules that guard protected habitats. The challenge is to make Bhubaneswar the thoughtful gateway that guides people into these experiences with humility.
What does this entail in a practical sense? A distinct, unobstructed heritage center where guests stroll along shaded paths surrounding Bindusagar.
Facilities such as restrooms, interpretation centers, and seating are discreetly positioned outside the temple walls, preserving their sanctity. Local guides are trained to narrate stories in various languages, rather than merely reciting dates and dynasties. Heritage residences are transformed into craft centers, artist studios, or micro-museums where traditional skills are revitalized.
Data-informed thresholds are established to ensure that the Old Town is not overwhelmed by excessive affection. The truth is that the challenge is not only technical. It is political, social, and emotional. I often think: will we allow short-term gain to eat away at fragile forests and monuments, or will we choose the harder path of balance? In my experience, whenever communities are treated as equal partners, the results endure.
Bhubaneswar has always been a crossroads — of pilgrims, of rulers, of ideas. Today, it stands at another crossroad: between heritage and modernity. If we can anchor the future to the living past, we can gift the world a model city — one where temples still breathe, where forests are visited with respect, and where progress feels like continuity, not rupture.
(Author is a Professor at Indian Institute of Tourism and Travel Management Ministry of Tourism, Govt. of India. Views Expressed are her Personal.)