Prayagraj–Varanasi Travelogue 2025
A Journey of Chaos, Culture, Laughter, and Pure Magic ✨
DAY 1 — The Journey Begins: Games, Chaos, Sangam & Surprises
Ours began at 6 AM on 14th November, standing on New Delhi Railway Station, still half-sleepy but super excited, with Nandini, Deepali and Anurag by my side. And of course, no Indian journey truly begins until you’ve had that station wali garma-garam chai — the kind that wakes you up better than any alarm.
We boarded the Vande Bharat, and honestly, the experience lived up to the hype. New coach, smooth ride, clean seats, quiet ambience — the works. It genuinely felt like India’s rail travel had levelled up.
But… (because every trip has that one but!)
The food on the train and my stomach did not get along. Within a few hours, I realised this was going to be one of those days where your body decides to rebel for no reason. So while everyone else enjoyed the scenic morning views and the comfortable ride, I spent half the day silently negotiating with my tummy to cooperate.
Not the best start — but definitely a memorable one!
Our journey started on a cheerful note and we passed time playing Rummy and Word Games. Little bursts of laughter, friendly banter, and light-hearted teasing set the tone for what was about to become a memorable trip.
The ride was smooth, the timing was perfect, and by late morning we rolled into Prayagraj Junction right on schedule. All good… until reality tapped us on the shoulder.
Turns out, the hotel we had booked was near Sangam Station, not Prayagraj Junction where Vande Bharat drops you.
For a whole minute, we just stood on the platform with our bags, looking at Google Maps like it had personally betrayed us.
Nandini gave me that classic “Seriously?” look,
Deepali burst out laughing,
and Anurag just shook his head like he always knew this would happen.
But honestly, these are the moments that make trips memorable.
So we shrugged, cracked a few jokes at our own expense, and hopped into an auto thinking it would be a quick 10–15 minute ride to the hotel near Sangam Station for a mini Prayagraj ride, we hadn’t planned but totally enjoyed..
But the moment we sat down, the driver smiled confidently and said the legendary words:
“Google chhodiye… main sab jaanta hoon.”
And that was it.
From that point onwards, we were passengers on his personal Prayagraj Darshan tour.
Round after round, galli after galli, U-turn after U-turn… we started thinking maybe we were the ones who didn’t know where we were going.
Every time one of us would check Maps, the driver would wave us off like we were distracting him from destiny itself.
By the time we finally reached the hotel, we weren’t sure whether to laugh or salute this man’s confidence.
The Hotel: Expectations vs Reality
And then came twist number two.
The hotel — with a shining 4.5-star rating online — turned out to be located in such a hidden, awkward lane that even the auto driver paused and said,
“Yeh kaunsa hotel hai?”
We looked around… then at each other… then back at Maps… and then burst out laughing.
Inside, the situation didn’t improve much.
Let’s just put it this way — whatever we saw online, whatever photos they posted, and whatever 4.5 rating we trusted… all of it vanished the moment we stepped in.
By the end of our stay, that same “4.5-star” hotel proudly received a 1-star rating from us — with full honesty and full unity.
But honestly, this is what makes trips real.
Perfect plans are forgettable.
It’s the messy, unplanned, “what is even happening!” moments that stick in your memory forever.
And this Day One — from Vande Bharat to Google-boy autowallah to “mystery location” hotel — set the tone just right.
Sangam – Where Time Feels Ancient and My Stomach Declared Independence
By the time we finally checked in — somewhere around 1 PM — all four of us were hungry, tired, and a little dizzy from the never-ending auto ride. We freshened up quickly, but there was no time for lunch.
And for me… that was bad news.
My stomach, already unhappy since the train food episode, decided that skipping lunch was an insult. Acidity kicked in, the discomfort intensified, and I knew that the rest of the day was going to be a personal battle.
Still, we weren’t going to waste the first day.
So we headed straight to the Sangam Ghat, because no matter how you feel physically, the mind automatically shifts into a different zone when you’re going to a place like the Sangam.
At the Triveni Sangam — A Moment Older Than Memory Itself
The boat ride to the Sangam point was calm and almost poetic. One of the most unforgettable moments in Prayagraj was feeding the Siberian birds during our boat ride. As our boat moved gently across the calm waters towards Sangam, hundreds of white Siberian gulls swooped down gracefully, almost choreographed by nature itself. We held out pieces of food and they glided in, picking them mid-air with stunning precision.
For a few minutes, it felt like time had paused —
just us, the soft splash of oars, the golden sunlight on the water, and a cloud of pristine white wings circling around.
Honestly, that small, magical encounter felt more spiritual than any ritual.
It was nature’s own aarti.
The gentle Ganga on one side, the deep blue Yamuna on the other, and the invisible, mythical Saraswati merging with them — it’s hard to describe the feeling unless you’ve been there.
The Sangam isn’t just three rivers meeting.
It’s where countless saints prayed, where civilizations flourished, where the Kumbh has been held for centuries, where people come seeking peace, forgiveness, blessings, or closure.
The air itself feels older than history… like you’re breathing something sacred.
By the time we reached the exact confluence point, the water turned almost glassy, as if the river wanted us to understand that this place is different.
The others — Nandini, Deepali and Anurag — took the holy dip, following the tradition with full sincerity.
I, on the other hand, was in the middle of a full-blown “Sangam of stomach issues.”
Between acidity, nausea, and cramps, my body voted against jumping in.
So instead, I did the next best thing —
I filled a bottle with the holy water, held it close, and silently prayed for my system to return to factory settings.
The Downhill Slide
Once we returned to the ghat, I immediately went on a mission to fix myself.
Tried soda lemon, hoping it would settle things.
Instead… it triggered the ultimate climax — I threw up.
After that, my body officially shut down.
Day One Continued: The Battle of Lunch vs My Stomach
By the time we finished at Sangam, it was already close to evening — technically “late lunch,” but my body was operating in an entirely different timezone.
We stopped at a restaurant so everyone could eat properly.
I was hoping to find something gentle — curd rice, khichdi, dal… anything that would feel like comfort.
But the moment I looked at the menu, my stomach rejected every option like a strict bouncer at a nightclub.
So while the others ordered their lunch, I quietly settled for buttermilk — the only thing my system was willing to negotiate with. I sipped it slowly, trying to appear normal while my insides were plotting against me.
Once everyone finished their meal, we stepped out and decided to split:
They went for sightseeing — full energy, full excitement.
I headed straight to the hotel — fully drained, holding my stomach and my dignity together.
I reached the hotel, took my medicines, closed the curtains, and surrendered to rest, while the others continued exploring the city.
I couldn’t eat, couldn’t stand for long, and even though my mind wanted to explore Prayagraj, my stomach said:
“Boss, aaj hum nahi kar paayenge.”
That was the end of my Day One — not glamorous, not adventurous, but definitely memorable in its own twisted way.
Meanwhile, the others continued sightseeing — and I was genuinely happy they did.
Trips are meant to be enjoyed, and I didn’t want my condition to slow anyone down. They visited Hanuman Mandir, known for its reclining Hanuman idol submerged during monsoons, and another beautiful South-Indian-style temple in the vicinity.
The rest of the evening for me was horizontal — on the bed, curtains half-closed, praying for recovery while the city outside continued its rhythm.
DAY 2 — Varanasi Calling: Assi Ghat, Corridor Walks, Kal Bhairav & The Cruise Aarti
We headed to Varanasi in the morning. Somewhere along the Prayagraj–Varanasi highway, hunger struck, and we all agreed it was time for breakfast. We had heard about a renowned pakore wala — the kind of place locals hype up — so we asked the driver to take us there, already imagining hot, crispy pakoras and kadak chai.
But when we reached… reality checked in.
The place was tiny, shabby, and far from appetising, especially for someone like me who had just spent the previous day negotiating with my stomach.
We exchanged a quick group glance that clearly said,
“Yeh scene cancel.”
Luckily, just ahead, I spotted a Rajpoot Dhaba, clean, simple, and instantly welcoming — like it was waiting for us.
We walked in and the aroma itself felt reassuring.
I stayed on the safer side and ordered idlis with sambar, giving my stomach something gentle to deal with.
The others, fully charged and excited, ate well — proper hearty breakfast with parathas and hot tea.
The food was fresh, the dhaba had a comforting vibe, and it felt like the perfect start to the Varanasi leg of our journey.
With happy stomachs (and my stomach at least behaving for the moment), we continued driving toward the ancient city of Varanasi — ready for whatever magic, chaos, or surprises waited for us next.
After a comfortable drive, we finally entered Varanasi—with fingers crossed, hoping our hotel wouldn’t give us déjà vu of Prayagraj. And to our pleasant surprise, it didn’t.
Varanasi Hotel
We checked into Hotel Kavana, a clean and pleasant place that instantly felt like bliss after our experience at Veni Madhav Inn. The best part? It was just a short walking distance from Assi Ghat, exactly what we had wanted for an authentic Varanasi experience. The moment we realised we could simply stroll down to the ghat whenever we wished, the excitement for the next two days doubled.
Kashi Vishwanath and Kal Bhairav Temple
After settling into Hotel Kavana and feeling human again, we freshened up and headed straight towards Kashi Vishwanath Mandir. This was the moment we were all waiting for. Thankfully, Anurag had arranged protocol passes—the golden ticket that lets you glide past the long waiting lines like VIPs.
But destiny had a small twist planned for us. By the time we reached, the temple doors were closing for the afternoon. For a moment, we just stood there, absorbing that typical Varanasi chaos—bells ringing, police whistles blowing, vehicles honking, devotees rushing, and yet the air feeling strangely divine.
Instead of wasting time, we decided to redirect our spiritual compass and moved towards Kal Bhairav Mandir, the “Kotwal of Kashi,” the fierce protector of the city. We decided to walk towards Kal Bhairav. Google Maps said “short walk,” but Google had clearly never stood in a Varanasi lane barefoot.
As soon as we reached the temple area, we saw it—
a kilometres-long serpentine line, twisting and turning through ultra-narrow lanes where even sunlight had to squeeze in sideways.
And on top of that,
barefoot.
The moment we removed our footwear, the reality hit us—
the cold stone, the uneven floor, the sudden dips and steps… Varanasi lanes have their own personality, and today they were in full form.
We were tired, my stomach was still recovering, and the crowd felt endless.
But the excitement? That kept us going.
There was something magnetic about that place—the chants, the smell of dhoop, the murmur of devotees sharing stories, the sense that we were inching closer to something powerful.
So we crawled forward, one turn at a time, shuffling through those narrow corridors of faith…
all for that one moment of darshan.
And honestly? Every step felt worth it even before we reached.
After what felt like an endless maze of lanes and humanity, we finally reached the sanctum.
And just like that… darshan happened.
If the queue had moved any faster, we would’ve missed it entirely.
It was that quick.
Barely half a second—a flash of the deity, a burst of energy, and we were gently pushed ahead by the flow of devotees.
We looked at each other and laughed.
Hours of waiting, kilometres barefoot, twisting lanes… all for a darshan so quick that if you blinked, you’d only see the exit.
But somehow, that less-than-a-second moment carried more power than long elaborate rituals.
It felt like Kal Bhairav didn’t need us to stand there for long;
just one glance was enough to stamp our entry into Kashi.
From Kal Bhairav, we made our way back towards Kashi Vishwanath, hoping the timing would favour us this time. And it did—beautifully.
With the protocol passes arranged by Anurag (our silent hero of this trip), the entry felt like an absolute piece of cake.
No serpentine lines, no chaos, no waiting… just a smooth, blessed walk straight into the heart of the corridor.
As we stepped in, the atmosphere flipped entirely—
the grand gold-en spires, the wide marble pathways, the echo of “Har Har Mahadev,” and the surreal calm that only Kashi Vishwanath can hold.
This time, unlike the split-second darshan at Kal Bhairav, we actually got a peaceful, slow, heart-soaking darshan of Baba Vishwanath.
In that moment, it felt like the universe had aligned itself—
first seek permission from the Kotwal, and then be welcomed by the King.
When we walked out, all four of us felt lighter… as if a layer of noise had been peeled away and replaced with something pure. We had a beautiful darshan and once we stepped out, we naturally slipped into tourist mode. We spent some time wandering around the corridor, looking at the intricate architecture, and of course, clicking some memories, because what’s a trip without a few dozen pictures to freeze the moment?
Manikarnika Ghat and Kashi Vishwanath Corridor
After soaking in the divinity of Vishwanath Mandir, we decided to walk down towards Manikarnika Ghat — one of the most intense and sacred places in Varanasi. The journey itself felt like a documentary.
We moved through those ultra-narrow, clogged lanes, where every turn introduced a new scene — tiny shops selling malas and brass idols, cows stationed like security guards, scooters trying to squeeze through impossible gaps, and priests chanting as they walked past us. The lanes of Kashi have their own heartbeat, and we were right in the middle of it.
Before reaching the ghat, we made a quick but essential stop at the legendary Blue Lassi Shop.
Big earthen kulhads, thick creamy lassis, fruit chunks, and dry fruits, and that old rustic charm — the place is an experience on its own. The flavours hit differently in Varanasi, especially after all the walking, darshan, and chaos. The vibe inside the shop felt like stepping into a time capsule, with walls filled with travel notes, photos of visitors from around the world, and flavours that truly justify its legendary reputation.
Recharged and refreshed, we continued towards Manikarnika — where the real soul of Kashi beats 24/7
Next, we explored the Kashi Vishwanath Corridor, an architectural marvel connecting the temple to the Ganga. Wide paths, grand sandstone walls, and stunning lighting made the walk feel majestic. The corridor has revived the entire spiritual experience, offering breathtaking views of the ghats and the river while preserving Kashi’s ancient soul. We took our time here—absorbing the energy, clicking photos, and simply soaking in the grandeur.
Assi Ghat and Ganga Aarti view from the Cruise
From the corridor, we made our way back towards Assi Ghat, which by now had started glowing under the soft evening lights. The vibe there was something else—artists performing, people sitting on the steps, the river reflecting the colours of the sky… it felt like Varanasi was slowly preparing for its grand nightly show.
We decided to take a cruise boat from Assi Ghat, and that turned out to be one of the best decisions of the trip. As the boat began moving, we passed by each of the iconic ghats—Harishchandra, Scindia, Man Mandir, Lalita, Chet Singh, Raja Ghat… each carrying centuries of stories, rituals, and legends. The breeze was cool, the lights were golden, and watching Kashi from the water gave the whole city a magical silhouette.
Eventually, our cruise anchored at Dashashwamedh Ghat for the Ganga Aarti view.
When we reached Dashashwamedh Ghat and saw the massive crowd gathered for the Ganga Aarti, we realised our boat had absolutely no view. All we could see were taller boats blocking the front, and for a moment we felt we should’ve just stayed at the ghat itself.
For a few minutes, it genuinely looked like a bad decision.
We were craning our necks, trying to spot even a flicker of the aarti lamps.
But then—our boat captain decided to become a hero.
With slow, clever maneuvering, he squeezed the boat between two others and found a perfect little gap. Suddenly, the entire view opened up, and we finally got a decent, unobstructed glimpse of the Ganga Aarti.
From that small window, the synchronized movements of the priests, the blazing lamps rising in circles, and the echoing chants felt absolutely divine. That moment—from disappointment to surprise—made it even more special.
Almost like Kashi wanted us to earn the view that night.
The sight was breathtaking—
the priests in perfect synchronization, the blazing lamps, the rhythmic bells, the chants vibrating through the air, and thousands of people gathered with the same devotion.
Watching the aarti from the boat felt surreal… almost cinematic.
The reflection of the flames on the Ganga, the sound of conch shells echoing across the water, and the collective energy of the crowd made it an unforgettable moment.
It felt like this was the spiritual climax of our Varanasi journey.
After the aarti concluded, the cruise slowly drifted back towards Assi Ghat, dropping us off right where our journey had begun. The ghat was still lively—artists performing, people strolling, lights shimmering on the river—but we were ready to wind down.
We took a slow, relaxed walk back towards our hotel, letting the cool night breeze and the lingering sounds of the aarti settle inside us. By the time we reached, we unanimously decided to have dinner at the hotel itself rather than explore more lanes. After such a full day—emotionally, spiritually, physically—it felt like the right call.
Throughout the trip, one thing stayed constant:
our obsession with tea and snacks(read chaat).
Different ghats, random stalls, unknown corners… we must have stopped for chai and quick bites at least half a dozen times. Each cup tasted different, each one felt perfect for that moment. Varanasi has a way of making even a simple kulhad chai feel like an experience.
Even after dinner, none of us were quite ready to call it a night.
Kashi has this strange charm — the more tired you are, the more awake your soul feels.
So we headed out for a late-night walk, soaking in the quiet streets and the gentle buzz that never really leaves Varanasi.
Halfway through, we spotted a roadside doodh–rabri wala, his big kadhai glowing under a dim bulb.
Hot milk simmering, thick creamy rabri layered beautifully — impossible to resist.
We stood there on the footpath, sipping warm milk and relishing rabri that tasted like pure bliss at midnight.
And then came the finale — Banarasi paan.
The paan shop we stopped at had a small framed picture that immediately caught our attention —
Narendra Modi himself eating paan at that very shop.
Instant credibility.
Instant excitement.
Instant decision: paan toh yahin se khayenge.
One bite later, we knew exactly why that photo was on the wall.
Sweet, perfectly folded, aromatic — the kind of paan that makes you nod in satisfaction without saying a word.
With that, our long, beautiful Day 2 finally came to an end, and we walked back to the hotel with full hearts and calm minds.
DAY 3 — Subah-e-Banaras: Aarti, Raag Lalit, Lemon Tea, BHU, Ghats & Grand Finale
We crashed into bed late, but sleep was short-lived —
because Day 3 had a 5 AM mission waiting for us.
Despite the long previous day, we somehow managed to drag ourselves out of bed while it was still pitch dark outside. The city was not silent, the lanes filled with devotees, and there was a slight chill in the air as we walked towards the ghat.
The plan was simple but sacred:
witness the morning aarti at Assi Ghat.
There’s something magical about Kashi before sunrise — the darkness slowly dissolving, the faint glow on the water, the priests preparing for the ceremony, and that rare calmness you never see during the day. Even our sleepy faces woke up instantly when we reached the ghat; the atmosphere had that effect.
The morning aarti wasn’t just an event…
it felt like a reset button.
A fresh beginning.
Right after the aarti, we had the privilege of listening to Raag Lalit, performed by local classical musicians. The gentle notes of the morning raga floating across the Ganga created pure magic. It felt like time had slowed down, and the world had come to rest just to listen to this melody.
After the morning aarti and the immersive performance, none of us wanted to rush back.
The sun had just started stretching its first rays across the Ganga, painting everything in soft gold. So we continued with a long, peaceful walk along the ghats — unhurried, quiet, almost therapeutic.
Each ghat had its own rhythm at that hour.
Some saints were meditating, some locals were taking their morning dip, a few shopkeepers were just opening their little chai stalls, and the city felt like it was gently waking up with us.
Eventually, we hopped onto a boat for a morning ride, and honestly, it felt different from the evening cruises. The water was calmer, the air fresher, the light softer. As the boat glided across the river, we once again found ourselves surrounded by hundreds of birds — this time even more graceful and hungry after sunrise.
Feeding the birds in that early light was something else.
They swooped in so close that you could almost feel the wind from their wings. There’s a strange joy in seeing them trust you enough to take food mid-air. It made the whole morning feel alive, pure, and beautifully connected to nature.
That calm boat ride, the cool morning breeze, the birds circling around us — it was the perfect continuation of our sunrise experience.
Once the boat dropped us back at the ghat, we continued strolling along the steps, still soaking in the calmness of the morning. And of course, like every single day of this trip, our chai rituals resumed almost immediately.
Then came one of the highlights of the trip: the best lemon tea in Banaras.
We’d been loyal to lemon tea throughout the trip — that tangy, soothing flavour somehow felt like the unofficial drink of Varanasi mornings. So, naturally, we stopped at one of the small tea stalls and enjoyed a hot cup of lemon tea while watching the city fully come alive. Made with tea extract, ginger, pudina, mishri and lemon — it was refreshing, soothing, and unlike anything we had tasted before. Even Anurag couldn’t stop appreciating it.
But this morning felt different… more traditional, more rooted.
So after our lemon tea fix, we also treated ourselves to the regular desi chai — kadak, milky, sweet, served in kulhads that felt warm in our hands. It hit differently.
Maybe it was the hour, maybe it was the cool breeze, maybe it was the emotion of our final day — but that cup of tea felt like a reward.
Two types of chai back-to-back… perfectly normal in Varanasi.
In fact, absolutely required.
From here, the group split. Anurag decided to visit a few more temples, while the rest of us headed to the hotel. The split happened right after the lemon tea.
We freshened up and went for breakfast, while Anurag rejoined us later after completing his darshan circuit.
After our double-chai ritual, we headed back to the hotel for breakfast at the buffet. By then we had worked up a good appetite — early mornings, long walks, boat rides, and chai can do that. The buffet spread felt exactly what we needed before wrapping up the day’s plans. Service and food quality at the hotel buffet weren’t great, so breakfast felt a bit underwhelming.
We ate well, chatted about the morning scenes, laughed at the previous day’s misadventures, and enjoyed those last peaceful moments before getting ready for checkout.
After breakfast, we checked out and kept our luggage in Deepali’s room, since she was staying back one extra day for her trip to Ayodhya.
We visited BHU (Banaras Hindu University)
— one of Asia’s largest residential universities, founded by Pandit Madan Mohan Malaviya. The campus is so huge, we were pretty sure Google Maps was also taking a deep breath before giving directions. Wide roads, endless greenery, and historic buildings… BHU truly feels like a city with its own heartbeat.
Inside this grand campus stands the New Vishwanath Temple, built by the Birla family — a breathtaking replica of the original Kashi Vishwanath Temple. Peaceful, majestic, and so tall that our necks got a bit of a workout too. But totally worth it.
The sweetest moment? Knowing Nandini’s father studied at BHU. Suddenly the campus didn’t feel like just another landmark — it felt personal, almost like we were walking through a piece of family history.
Overall takeaway:
BHU taught us heritage, spirituality… and also that next time we visit, we should probably carry a glucose packet and a campus map. 😄
We had chai and samosas there before heading back into the heart of the old city.
Ghats again
From there, we walked through the ghats again and went towards Manikarnika, but did not stop there. Instead, we kept walking until we reached the calmer Scindia Ghat and beyond.
At Ganesh Ghat, we enjoyed jhaalmoori, did a bit of kite flying, and had a great time clicking photos. The quietness of the place, away from the hustle of the main ghats, made it the perfect spot to slow down and absorb the essence of Banaras.
Shopping Spree
We relaxed there for a while and continued our stroll, before heading back into the city for the highly anticipated Banarasi shopping session for the girls.
We then went for thandai, and afterwards straight to the legendary Kashi Chat Bhandar.
We tried a variety of chaat items — tamatar chaat, mixed chaat, palak patta chaat, and more.
Kashi Chat is so iconic that even the Ambani family invited them to serve at their son’s wedding, which tells you everything about its heritage and flavour. The experience was an explosion of taste, colour, and joy.
Evening Aarti from the Ghat Stairs
After shopping and snacks, we returned to Deepali’s room to freshen up and prepare for our grand finale — the evening aarti at Assi Ghat, this time seated on the steps.
This experience turned out to be the best evening of the entire trip.
The sky slowly darkened, diyas flickered everywhere, priests performed synchronized rituals, the sound of conch shells filled the air, and the Ganga shimmered under the gentle glow of lamps. Sitting right there on the ghat stairs, witnessing the aarti up close, was a deeply spiritual and unforgettable moment.
After the aarti, we enjoyed some moori and chai before rushing back to the hotel. Our cab had already arrived to take us to the airport. Deepali stayed back for her onward trip to Ayodhya, while the rest of us headed out, bringing our beautiful journey to an emotional close.
And finally…👇
This trip taught us that adventures don’t start at destinations — they start when Google Maps gives up.
Our auto driver wasn’t just a driver. He was a philosopher, guide, and part-time stand-up comedian.
Prayagraj hotel taught us one thing: never trust online ratings. Trust your sixth sense — and the auto driver’s confusion.
Varanasi taught us that darshan can be 0.5 seconds, but the blessings last forever.
My stomach taught me humility.
The Ganga taught me peace.
Blue Lassi taught me calories don’t count on vacation.
And Banarasi paan taught me why world leaders keep coming back to Kashi.
This trip had it all — chaos that made us laugh, spirituality that made us quiet, food that made us emotional, and memories that made us richer.
In short: Prayagraj tested us.
Kashi blessed us.
And the journey changed us.
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