Notre Dame caught on fire just days after I accepted the offer to teach at The American University of Paris. Hence, for most of my Parisian years, the cathedral has been inaccessible. But that has never stopped it from attracting crowds. For years now, I have seen tourists line up along the river to take pictures of the scaffolded façade. I’ve walked past it a hundred times, but now that it was finally open, I decided it was time to pay a visit.
On September 20, the Towers of Notre Dame, with its chimera gallery, will open to the public.
Notre Dame stands on the tip of an island, the Île de la Cité, the ancient heart of Paris. The Romans were here in 500 BC. Construction of the church began in 1163 under Maurice de Sully and ended a hundred years later, and there would be no major work until the French Revolution, when much of the bronze, lead, and precious metals were removed and melted down. Major restoration was done to the church in the mid-19th century. And in 2019, the fire happened.
I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to look out your window and watch the cathedral burn. And what it must be like now, after years of construction, to watch it come back to life. The fire pushed the cathedral into another round of upkeep. To rebuild the historic roof called “Le foret” or the forest, 1,000 historic oak trees from 200 French forests were selected and sacrificed — a move that was sharply criticised. At the same time, artisans from all over France gathered to restore the cathedral, and continue to do so daily. During the time of writing this article, statues that belong up on the famous spire have been restored. On September 20, the Towers of Notre Dame, with its chimera gallery, will open to the public. And soon the wooden shafts on which the two bells, Emmanuel and Marie, are suspended will be replaced.
Artisans from all over France gathered to restore the cathedral.
| Photo Credit:
Thulasi Kakkat
Place for everyone
Standing across from Notre Dame, one does get the sense of being in the centre of the historic city of Paris. To one side of the church, on the Left Bank of the river Seine, is the Latin Quarter, brimming with students, because it is home to one of the world’s revered universities, the Sorbonne. Adjacent to Notre Dame is the Hotêl Dieu, one of the world’s oldest hospitals.
On the Right Bank is the Marais, the old Jewish neighbourhood, which is now Paris’s gay district, dotted with bars, museums, and boutiques. The paved-in square in front of Notre Dame is roughly the size of a football field. It’s a place for everyone from musicians to pickpockets to earn their livelihood. Here, dancers draw applause as they perform hip-hop routines. Tourists pose for photographs. Couples kiss amidst a cacophony of languages. And sporty French men and women jog across, oblivious to it all. It’s a spot where the many sides of Paris converge.
Inside the Notre Dame
| Photo Credit:
Thulasi Kakkat
On the day of my visit, I found a long line of extremely well-dressed people outside the doors to Notre Dame. Walking past them, I noticed almost everyone in that line spoke French. Families stood together — children, parents, and grandparents — just before dinner time. I joined the line and when a woman in a beautiful dress stood behind me, I asked her if I needed a reservation. Yes, she said. Especially for the concert. It was then that I realised that I won’t be able to get in, because this wasn’t a regular evening at Notre Dame.
Churches in Paris — as in the rest of the world — often double as musical venues. On that gorgeous Wednesday evening, it was Requiem by Mozart. The woman told me she used to come to the church with her mother, who had worshipped there often. As she grew older, she brought friends visiting from out of town to hear concerts. She hadn’t returned since the fire. This evening, she was back — this time with her four-year-old — reviving a family tradition.
On the day of my visit, I found a long line of extremely well-dressed people outside the doors to Notre Dame.
| Photo Credit:
Thulasi Kakkat
Bridging the past and the present
Since I couldn’t enter the church that evening, I decided to return early one morning, just in time for Mass. There was barely a line, and inside, worshippers almost outnumbered the tourists. From the inside, you can catch the shadow of workers moving across the stained-glass windows because the renovation won’t be complete until 2026. However, much of the outside has been restored to its previous glory, including the iconic spire and roof.
Notre Dame stands on the tip of an island, the Île de la Cité.
| Photo Credit:
Thulasi Kakkat
Inside, things look drastically different. During the renovation, a latex paste was applied to the walls, then peeled off once dried, lifting away centuries of soot and grime. Coupled with the brilliance of the stained glass, the effect is luminous. Now, the past and present exist together. You can buy candles at the click of a button, make donations with contactless payments.
Notre Dame is also a museum. While it famously houses the Crown of Thorns and Wood of the Cross, it is also home to paintings by 20th century masters such as Henri Matisse and George Braque, which stand in quiet dialogue with statues and religious paintings from centuries past.
Notre Dame is also a museum.
| Photo Credit:
Thulasi Kakkat
On my way back from Mass that morning, I saw a much longer line just across the street — outside the Préfecture de Police — where hundreds of immigrants queue up each day to apply for residency permits. I’ve stood in that line more than once. And I wondered how many prayers have been whispered to the God inside by those who may never enter the cathedral. Many of them don’t share its faith. But perhaps that’s the magic of Notre Dame: it makes a convert of us all.
The writer teaches at The American University of Paris and is the author of Hundred Greatest Love Songs.
Published – September 12, 2025 06:17 pm IST