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The flight from Delhi to Varanasi takes scarcely an hour, yet as the aircraft descends over the plains of Uttar Pradesh, it feels less like a journey through air and more like a passage through epochs. Below, the Ganga unfurls—a sinuous ribbon of molten silver winding through fields that have known the weight of countless prayers. Time seems to thicken in its presence. The river does not merely flow; it remembers.
Outside the Lal Bahadur Shastri Airport, the air itself seems ancient—dense with incense, dust, and the faraway resonance of temple bells. Varanasi is not simply a city; it is a metaphysical condition, a place where the tangible world bends towards the eternal. It is said that Lord Shiva himself founded Kashi, and that to die here is to attain moksha, liberation from the endless cycle of birth and death. One of the world’s oldest living cities, its foundations are layered with millennia of faith, fire, and philosophy.
Varanasi is a paradox in perpetual motion. Along the river’s curve, life and death coexist in quiet intimacy. There are more than eighty ghats, each inscribed with its own legend. At Dashashwamedh Ghat, the grand Ganga aarti erupts each evening in a conflagration of light and rhythm—priests swing lamps in unison, and the river itself seems to sway to the cadence of their chants. At Manikarnika and Harishchandra Ghats, funeral pyres burn without pause, an endless testimony to impermanence. And at the southern edge lies Assi Ghat, where dawn begins each day with soft hymns and the slow unfolding of saffron skies.
My own destination was near Assi ghat, along a quiet lane where the cacophony of the city softened into a murmur. The jüSTa Kashi Parampara stood there, once an eighty-year-old ancestral home, now reimagined as a fourteen-room heritage retreat. Yet even in its renewal, the building has retained the serenity of memory. Its walls still hold the breath of another time. A central courtyard gathers sunlight like an old soul drawing warmth, while the corridors exhales the faint aroma of sandalwood and stone.
Inside, every object seems to obey a rhythm of its own: morning light filters through sandstone jaalis carved in Jodhpur, sketching filigreed patterns on the floor; wooden pillars, polished by the years, rise in solemn grace, each grain whispering a story. The rooms are quiet, yet alive with a certain eloquence—an architecture of repose rather than display.
In the Deluxe Room (approximately 160 sq ft), you enter a space that feels intimately tucked away from the city’s clamour. A king-bed stands against pale walls, the contours softened by thoughtful lighting and minimal ornamentation. With high ceilings and heritage-inspired touches, this room offers a gentle retreat: you can hear the murmur of distant temple bells, but they seem far removed, as if the world beyond the window belongs to another cadence.
My stay was in the Premium Room (spread across roughly 245-315 sq ft), and it felt like a sanctuary. The room allowed me to unwind fully: the beige curtains filtered the morning light and the wooden pillars stood in quiet dignity. Though located in the heart of Varanasi, the room cocooned me in calm—far enough from the city’s humdrum that when I closed the door, I felt suspended in a rare stillness.
For those seeking a little more space and luxury, the Suite (approximately 330 sq ft) offers a refined extension of this tranquillity. The additional square footage gives room to breathe—perhaps a sofa area or extra seating, a more expansive layout. Still, the heritage theme remains: the same pillars, the same craftsmanship, but now with room to sit, reflect, or linger. In the suite, you feel the grandeur of the past gently re-imagined for modern comfort.
During my stay, one evening as dusk settled, I wandered into a silk-weaving emporium nearby. Inside warm-lit rooms, artisans bent over their looms, guiding threads of silk and zari through intricate lattices. The looms themselves bore names—Kabir, perhaps, or Sahir—as if endowed with spirit. Here, each Banarasi saree emerged like a hymn in silk, shimmering with the patience of centuries. The air trembled with the soft percussion of wood and thread, and I felt, for a moment, that creation was still a sacred act.
At dawn the next morning, I boarded a wooden boat for Subah-e-Banaras—that ineffable hour when the city awakens to itself. A light drizzle veiled the river, and the first rays of the sun turned the mist to gold. On the boat, a musician played Raga Bhairavi, his sitar notes rising like smoke into the soft air. A tabla responded, its rhythm the heartbeat of the morning. Along the ghats, priests recited verses, students bent into yoga postures, and women released diyas onto the water, their tiny flames drifting like stars adrift in a liquid sky. The drizzle deepened the hues of the world—ochre steps, marigold garlands, the gleam of brass utensils—until everything seemed to shimmer in a shared act of worship.
By evening, the city transformed once again. I found myself on another boat near Dashashwamedh Ghat, waiting for the Ganga Aarti. As twilight fell, the air thickened with smoke and devotion. Rows of priests lifted flaming lamps in perfect synchrony; conch shells blared, bells clanged, and chants rolled over the water like waves. From the boat, the spectacle felt less a ritual than a cosmic performance—a dialogue between river and flame, life and release, mortal time and divine rhythm.
When I returned to the hotel later that night, a pair of dancers performed Kathak in the courtyard. Their ghungroos marked the cadence of an older India, each twirl a translation of mythology into movement. I watched in stillness, a plate of Chinese snacks before me, the sound of rain beginning to whisper across the tiled roof. The courtyard seemed to breathe with them, as if every echo of footfall awakened the memory of another evening long gone.
Meals at the jüSTa Kashi Parampara are strictly vegetarian, yet the menu astonishes with variety. There is Banarasi aloo dum, fragrant with mustard and fenugreek; chhena malpua glazed with syrup; and a thali that arrives like a small festival of flavours. Even the continental dishes carry the subtle resonance of the city—a hint of spice, a whisper of ghee. From the intimate 20-cover dining hall, one can hear the distant toll of temple bells, weaving into conversation the reminder that time here flows differently, slower, deeper.
Perhaps this is the true essence of Kashi: a city that hums with vitality and yet teaches the art of stillness. Its rhythm is not meant to be mastered but absorbed. To walk through its lanes is to encounter history not as a relic, but as a living presence—etched in walls, mirrored in water, breathed through every syllable of a chant.
And within it, just a few steps from the Ganga, a house that once sheltered a family now opens its doors to travellers. It does not ask them to forget the world. Instead, it invites them to remember—to remember what it means to pause, to listen, to be.
As I left, I looked once more at the river, vast and inscrutable under the morning sun. The city shimmered in its reflection, both ageless and alive. Perhaps no other place on earth so completely dissolves the boundaries between the temporal and the eternal. For Varanasi is not merely inhabited—it inhabits you. And when you leave, it does not let you go; it lingers, like the aftertaste of incense, or the echo of a conch-shell carried by the wind across centuries.
The hotel curates a series of immersive experiences that bring Varanasi’s spirit alive. Guests can enjoy serene boat rides on the Ganga, take part in a morning havan, and listen to live instrumental music that fills the courtyard each morning and evening. There’s also a guided silk weaving tour, where one can witness the making of Banarasi sarees on traditional looms.
Every evening, guests can savour a live Banarasi paan experience with a local artisan, while once during their stay, they are invited to attend the Ganga aarti by boat, accompanied by a spiritual guide who reveals the ritual’s deeper meanings.
Beyond these curated experiences, you can make the most of your time in Varanasi by exploring the following:
•The Kashi Vishwanath Temple
No visit to Varanasi is complete without offering prayers at the sacred Kashi Vishwanath Temple. Dedicated to Lord Shiva, this revered shrine stands on the western bank of the Ganga and is often called the “Golden Temple of Varanasi” for its gold-plated spire. The temple’s history is as layered as the city itself—destroyed and rebuilt multiple times over centuries, the current structure was commissioned by Rani Ahilyabai Holkar of Indore in the 18th century. Before entering, devotees are required to deposit their phones and bags outside.
• Bharat Kala Bhavan
Located within the Banaras Hindu University campus, Bharat Kala Bhavan is a repository of India’s artistic and cultural legacy. Established in 1920, it houses an extraordinary collection of over 100,000 artefacts—sculptures from the Mauryan and Gupta periods, exquisite miniature paintings, rare textiles, coins, manuscripts, and decorative art. Each gallery unfolds like a quiet chronicle of Indian civilisation. As you wander through its serene halls, the past reveals itself not as something distant, but as a living rhythm that still beats within the city. Photography is prohibited inside the gallery. However, visitors can ask for reading materials from the office counter.
• Local Flavours — Baati Chokha And Chaat
To know Varanasi, you must taste it. I found myself drawn to a restaurant named Baati Chokha, where a plate of Baati Chokha awaited—golden orbs of roasted wheat served with smoky mashed brinjal and spiced potato. The first bite carried the warmth of hearth and soil, the tang of mustard oil and char. Later, I indulged in Varanasi’s famed chaat—crisp, tangy, and perfumed with tomatoes. It was a carnival of flavour that lingered long after, much like the city itself.
• Day Trip To Sarnath
Just eight kilometres from Varanasi lies Sarnath, a place of immense spiritual and historical significance. It was here that Lord Buddha delivered his first sermon, setting in motion the Wheel of Dharma. The site flourished under Emperor Ashoka, who erected stupas and monasteries, and placed his iconic lion capital—the emblem that later became the symbol of India. The Dhamek Stupa, a massive stone-and-brick structure adorned with delicate carvings, still marks the sacred spot. Walking through Sarnath’s tranquil gardens, I felt an extraordinary sense of stillness. The serenity of Sarnath stands in beautiful contrast to the pulsating energy of Varanasi—a reminder that devotion wears many forms, from the fire of ritual to the quiet of contemplation.
Deluxe Room: Approx. INR 18,664 per night (incl. taxes).
Premium Room: Approx. INR 20,481 per night (incl. taxes).
Suite Room: Approx. INR 23,207 per night (incl. taxes).
Booking/Contact Information:
Telephone: +91-542-4087-410
Alternate: +91-9289-897-541
Website: justahotels.com
1. What makes jüSTa Kashi Parampara unique among hotels in Varanasi?
jüSTa Kashi Parampara stands out for its heritage architecture, river proximity, and immersive local experiences — from live classical music and morning havans to guided silk-weaving tours and the Ganga Aarti by boat.
2. How far is jüSTa Kashi Parampara from the Ganga and major ghats?
The hotel is located near Assi Ghat, just a short walk from the Ganga. Dashashwamedh Ghat, famous for the evening Ganga Aarti, is about a 10-minute drive away.
3. What kind of experiences can guests enjoy at jüSTa Kashi Parampara?
Guests can enjoy Ganga boat rides, morning havan ceremonies, live Banarasi music, silk-weaving demonstrations, and a guided paan-making session with a local artisan.
4. Is the restaurant at jüSTa Kashi Parampara vegetarian?
Yes, the in-house restaurant is strictly vegetarian, offering traditional Banarasi dishes like aloo dum and chhena malpua alongside contemporary Indian and continental cuisine.
5. What are the nearby attractions to visit from jüSTa Kashi Parampara?
Guests can visit the Kashi Vishwanath Temple, Bharat Kala Bhavan at BHU, Sarnath, and explore Varanasi’s ghats, bazaars, and chaat stalls for a complete cultural experience.
