Some journeys leave you with photographs. Others leave you with questions. My journey began on the road from Patna to Rajgir. Having read policy documents describing Rajgir as one of the flagship destinations of Bihar’s tourism strategy, I expected to see how government investment had translated into broader local economic opportunities. The list of investments was impressive: better roads, a modern ropeway, the Glass Skywalk, Nature Safari, a convention centre, sports infrastructure and, nearby, the new Nalanda University. On paper, Rajgir seemed to possess everything required to become one of eastern India’s leading tourism destinations.
Instead, I returned with a different question: Why do places with extraordinary assets sometimes struggle to become extraordinary economies?
My first halt in Rajgir was Brahmakund, at the foot of Vaibhava Hill. The sulphur-rich hot springs have drawn pilgrims here for generations and remain inseparable from the town’s religious identity. I reached early in the morning, when devotees were already gathering for a ritual bath. Amid the bustle, however, I noticed details that were difficult to ignore. The water in the main kund looked cloudy during my visit, and some visitors were spitting in and around the bathing area even as others offered prayers. For a place regarded as sacred by thousands, the contrast was striking.
It suggested that maintaining cleanliness and managing visitors deserve as much attention as improving physical infrastructure.
As I sat there for a while, another thought stayed with me. Brahmakund succeeds in attracting people, but it gives them little reason to linger. Most visitors complete their rituals and leave. Beyond the sacred bath, there are still limited opportunities that encourage visitors to extend their stay. Elsewhere in the world, hot springs have often become the nucleus of thriving wellness destinations, supporting hotels, cafés, spas and a range of small local businesses. The challenge now is to build an economy around them rather than treating the springs as a stop on a visitor’s itinerary.
Later that afternoon, I boarded the ropeway to the Vishwa Shanti Stupa. As the chairlift climbed above the valley, Rajgir revealed another side of itself. The forests, rocky hills and ancient landscape made it easy to understand why travellers have been drawn here for centuries. The transformation is unmistakable. Bihar has shown that it is increasingly capable of delivering major public infrastructure and modern public assets.
But as I looked across the hills, another thought emerged. Infrastructure creates destinations. Destinations become economies only when visitors stay longer, spend locally and return often.
A few days later, I returned to visit the new Nalanda University. The campus is modern, ambitious and symbolic of Bihar’s attempt to reconnect with its intellectual past. Yet what caught my attention lay beyond its gates.
Around successful universities, cafes, bookstores, student housing, research organisations, start-ups and lively public spaces usually emerge over time. Universities thus become engines of local economies because academic life spills into surrounding neighbourhoods. Around Nalanda, that transformation is still in its early stages. The university feels like an important institution waiting for a vibrant university town to grow around it.
Only a few kilometres away stand the ruins of the ancient Nalanda Mahavihara, once among the world’s greatest centres of learning. Today, the ancient ruins and the new university remain two remarkable but disconnected assets. Yet they still function largely as separate destinations rather than as parts of an integrated cultural and economic corridor.
My journey then took me to Gaya.
Driving into the city, I was reminded in some ways of Varanasi. The narrow streets, clusters of neighbourhood temples and the steady stream of pilgrims around Vishnupad Temple create a similar rhythm of everyday faith. Religion here is not confined to a monument; it shapes the life of the city itself.
Varanasi has evolved into far more than a pilgrimage centre. Visitors stay for the evening Ganga aarti, explore the ghats, walk through its historic lanes, enjoy local cuisine and spend several days absorbing the city’s cultural life. Over time, pilgrimage has been complemented by hospitality, culture, commerce and riverfront tourism, creating a much broader urban economy.
Gaya possesses equally remarkable foundations. Vishnupad Temple is one of Hinduism’s most sacred pilgrimage sites, while just a short drive away, the Mahabodhi Temple in Bodh Gaya draws Buddhist pilgrims from across the world. Few places combine such important Hindu and Buddhist heritage. The rocky hills surrounding Gaya add a scenic quality that many visitors do not expect.
And yet, by the following evening, I found myself driving back to Patna. Not because there was nothing left to see, but because I had run out of reasons to stay.
That, perhaps, is Bihar’s real tourism challenge.
The State has become increasingly successful at creating destinations. Its greater challenge now is creating the economic linkages that transform destinations into thriving local economies.
Economists call these multiplier effects. A visitor who stays for two nights instead of two hours supports a hotel. The hotel buys vegetables from nearby farmers. Restaurants employ local workers. Transport operators earn more. Artisans find customers. New cafes open. Tourism economies emerge because hundreds of small businesses reinforce one another. Investment, in turn, attracts more investment.
The same logic extends beyond tourism. Roads connect markets. Universities generate ideas, firms and skilled workers. Heritage supports livelihoods as much as it preserves history.
Bihar has already achieved something important. It has rebuilt roads, improved connectivity and invested in public infrastructure after decades of neglect. That achievement deserves recognition.
The next stage of development, however, cannot be built by governments alone. It requires cleaner public spaces, stronger municipalities, better hospitality, locally owned businesses, cultural activities, walkable streets and the confidence that encourages private investment to follow public investment.
Driving back to Patna, I realised that Rajgir, Nalanda and Gaya had quietly changed the way I thought about Bihar’s future. The next phase of development will be judged not by the number of attractions the State builds, but by whether those attractions become the foundation of vibrant local economies.
Disclaimer
Views expressed above are the author’s own.
