Classical Music & Dance in Varanasi: Subah-e-Banaras, Sankat Mochan Sangeet Samaroh & Beyond

Sankat Mochan Sangeet Samaroh: The Soul of Classical Festivals

If Subah-e-Banaras is Varanasi’s daily riyaaz, Sankat Mochan Sangeet Samaroh is its grand annual crescendo. Held every year at the Sankat Mochan Hanuman Temple, this 6–7 day classical music and dance festival is considered one of India’s oldest and most revered platforms for the performing arts. But unlike conventional festivals with tickets, sponsors, and VIP rows, here the grammar is different; the art is offered first to the deity and only then incidentally to the audience. Entry is free, the atmosphere is devotional, and applause is often replaced by quiet smiles, folded hands, and murmured “Har Har Mahadev” or “Jai Shri Ram.”

Night after night, temple courtyards transform into sacred stages. Hindustani vocalists open with khayal or bhajans in praise of Hanuman and Rama; instrumentalists on sitar, flute, sarod, and shehnai let their alaaps float into the warm night air; tabla and pakhawaj solos turn rhythm into pure intoxication. On select evenings, Kathak and Odissi dancers perform intricate abhinaya, treating the sanctum as both a witness and the center stage. Many artists see being invited here as a blessing, not a booking.

Performances often continue deep into the night, sometimes brushing against dawn, blurring the line between concert and collective sadhana. Legends like Pandit Bhimsen Joshi, Ustad Bismillah Khan, Pandit Jasraj, Pandit Rajan–Sajan Mishra, and Pandit Birju Maharaj have all poured their art into this space, leaving behind not just memories but a lineage of commitment.

In Sankat Mochan, you don’t just “attend” a music festival; you sit on cool stone, smell incense and flowers, hear a tanpura hum in the background, and watch as art becomes prayer in real time.

Banaras Gharana: What Makes the City’s Style Unique

To understand why Varanasi sounds the way it does, you have to listen through the lens of the Banaras Gharana. This gharana is less about polished perfection and more about bhaav, emotion, depth, and storytelling. Whether it’s a thumri, a dadra, or a kajri, there is always a certain looseness, a fluidity that makes the music feel like a conversation rather than a recital.

The Banarasi style is known for:

Banarasi Thumri – romantic, devotional, and often addressed to Krishna; sung with delicate ornamentation and deep emotion.

Dadra – lighter, more playful pieces, often performed late at night when the mood softens.

Chaiti & Kajri – seasonal songs tied to Chaitra (spring) and the monsoon, where folk and classical music melt into each other.

On the rhythmic side, the Banaras tabla gharana, shaped by maestros like Pandit Ram Sahai, is famed for its powerful bayan, intricate layakari, and dazzling relas that still somehow serve the mood of the music rather than overshadow it.

What makes the Banaras approach unique is its refusal to separate technique from devotion. The raga may be complex, and the taal may be demanding, but the underlying intention is simple: to touch the listener’s heart and, through that, touch something divine.

Temple Music Traditions: Where Worship Becomes Sound

Beyond formal festivals and ghatside programs, Varanasi’s true musical life breathes within its temples. Step into a Shiva temple on an ordinary evening, and you might find a small group of musicians seated on the floor with a harmonium, a tabla, a pair of manjiras, and voices rising in unison as they sing bhajans and aartis that borrow phrases from classical ragas.

During evening aartis, especially in older shrines, you can still hear the mellow cry of the shehnai, echoing the legacy of Ustad Bismillah Khan, who famously played at the Vishwanath Temple for decades. The percussive backbone is often provided by tabla or dholak, but the intent remains the same: to make music an extension of puja.

On festival nights like Mahashivaratri, many temples become all-night music hubs. Devotees stay awake until dawn, fuelled by tea, prasad, and the constant flow of kirtans, bhajans, and semi-classical renditions in praise of Shiva. Young students get the chance to sit beside their gurus, taking small solo sections or singing chorus lines, learning in the most traditional way by being present.

In akharas, where wrestling and discipline define the day, you may still find old recordings or live renditions of devotional songs used as motivation, a reminder that in Kashi, the body and the art both train under the same sky.

Here, music is not an event; it is woven into the daily timetable of devotion. The temple is the green room, the sanctum is the front row, and every raga, however small, is ultimately addressed to the gods first.

Other Cultural Hotspots for Music & Dance in Varanasi

Beyond the famous ghats and big festivals, Varanasi’s classical soul is quietly nurtured in smaller, deeply meaningful spaces.

Kabir Math in Lahartara is one such center. Dedicated to Sant Kabir, it regularly hosts nirgun bhajan gatherings where singers explore devotion without form or idol, just poetry, voice, and tanpura. Visitors often find themselves sitting cross-legged among locals, listening to lines that question ego, caste, and ritual, turning music into gentle philosophy. Between songs, discussions on Kabir’s dohas unfold, making the space feel more like a living classroom than a shrine.

At Bharat Kala Bhavan, inside Banaras Hindu University (BHU), glass and stone preserve the relationship between art and history. The museum displays old instruments, miniature paintings of court musicians, temple sculptures in dance postures, and manuscripts that document performance traditions. For students and curious travelers, it offers a quiet, structured introduction to how music and dance evolved in and around Kashi.

Across the river, Ramnagar Fort occasionally becomes a cultural stage, especially around Ramleela or special events. The fort’s courtyards, lit by soft lights and backed by centuries-old walls, host performances where the line between myth and reality blurs. Sitting there, listening to a raga or watching a dance, you feel the weight of time without it feeling heavy.

Then there are the private baithaks, small, intimate concerts in the homes of gurus and musical families. Here, 20 or 30 people sit close to the artist, the tanpura hums just a few feet away, and the raga is unfolded slowly, with pauses, explanations, and informal jokes in between. For travelers seeking depth rather than spectacle, these baithaks are often the most unforgettable experiences.

Dance Traditions: Kathak in Varanasi

While Varanasi is often introduced through sound, its visual rhythm lives in Kathak. The city is an important centre for Kathak training and performance, particularly associated with the Janaki Prasad style, which is known for its delicate abhinaya (expression), strong footwork, and deep emphasis on storytelling.

Here, Kathak is not just “classical dance”; it is another language of bhakti. Many compositions revolve around stories of Shiva, Rama, Krishna, and local temple legends. A single performance can move from playful Krishna–Radha banter to the fierce tandava energy of Shiva, all held together by the dancer’s eyes, hands, and the ringing of ghungroos.

Dancers often perform at Assi Ghat, especially during Subah-e-Banaras or special cultural evenings, where their silhouettes move against the backdrop of the rising sun or soft stage lights. At Sankat Mochan Temple, Kathak becomes an offering, with dancers treating each piece as a form of archana rather than a mere item number. Private gatherings and baithaks in music families’ homes also feature Kathak recitals, allowing students to learn not just steps but also the inner mood of the form.

In Varanasi, Kathak still feels very close to its roots, performed in temples, courtyards, and small halls, often to live music, keeping the intimacy between dancer, musician, and audience intact.

Daily Life of Artists in Varanasi

The artists who keep Varanasi’s classical traditions alive do not just perform here; they live their entire lives inside the discipline of their art. Many follow a gurukul-style system, where students stay with or near their gurus, visiting daily for riyaaz, chores, conversations, and slow, patient learning. The relationship is less “teacher–student class” and more “shared life over many years.”

Mornings often begin at the ghats. You might find a vocalist practicing alaap facing the river, a flautist searching for the perfect meend in the still air, or a tabla student quietly repeating bols on a muted practice tabla. This early riyaaz is not just about skill; it’s about syncing one’s inner rhythm with the city’s.

Throughout the day, many artists balance multiple roles:

Teaching at music schools, universities, or in-home classes

Performing at temples during aarti or festivals

Preparing for seasonal concerts or tours

Attending other artists’ programmes as rasikas (listeners), not just performers

For them, music and dance are both livelihood and sadhana. Earnings may come from concerts, classes, and occasional recordings, but the deeper motivation remains devotional, a sense that every raga sung well, every taal played with sincerity, and every abhinaya performed with truth is a quiet offering to the city and its gods.

In this way, the daily life of a Varanasi artist mirrors the city itself: rooted in tradition, constantly practicing, occasionally performing, and always, always listening for the next note.

Best Time to Experience Classical Arts in Varanasi

Classical music and dance in Varanasi don’t live only in big festivals; they breathe through the year in different moods. The most accessible doorway is Subah-e-Banaras at Assi Ghat, held almost daily in all seasons. At dawn, as the sky lightens over the river, you can hear a vocalist unfold a morning raga, a flautist tracing soft notes through the mist, or a tabla player building gentle rhythm while yoga mats line the ghat. It’s the simplest way to feel how art and everyday life flow together here.

If you’re planning around major events, March–April is when the legendary Sankat Mochan Sangeet Samaroh usually takes place. For six to seven nights, some of India’s greatest musicians and dancers perform as an offering to Hanuman, often continuing until dawn. There are no tickets, no VIP rows, just devotees, students, and artists sitting together on temple floors, letting the music work quietly on them.

Between October and February, the city slips into its cultural high season. The air is cool, tourist crowds are high, and events like Ganga Mahotsav, smaller classical festivals, and intimate baithaks become more frequent. Rooftop venues, courtyards, and ghats host performances where ghazal, thumri, instrumental solos, and dance coexist with the winter chill and hot cups of chai.

During the monsoon, when river levels rise and open-air programs are less predictable, the music simply moves indoors.

Temples, ashrams, music schools, and private homes host devotional gatherings and practice sessions. For a culture seeker, this season can feel especially intimate: fewer grand stages and more rooms where you sit close enough to hear the artist breathe between phrases.

Tips for Travellers & Culture Seekers

To really absorb classical Banaras, it helps to move at its pace. For Subah-e-Banaras, reach Assi Ghat at least 20–30 minutes before the program starts. The best spots, close to the musicians yet with a clear view of the river, fill up first, especially in winter and festival time.

Dress modestly, especially if you’re heading to temple concerts like Sankat Mochan or smaller shrines that host performances. Simple, comfortable clothes that cover shoulders and knees are both respectful and practical. You’re entering a prayer space first and a performance space second.

Phones are often the biggest interruption. Before the music begins, switch to silent mode and keep your device aside. If you must take a picture or two, do it quickly and discreetly; avoid walking in front of artists or using flash. Classical performances in Kashi are not designed as spectacles for cameras; they are meant to be listened to with full attention.

Most importantly, respect the artists and the mood of the space. Here, a raga in a temple at midnight, or a thumri at dawn, is closer to meditation than to “showtime.” Avoid loud conversations, restless movement, or treating the event as background for socializing. A simple folded-hand greeting or a quiet “Dhanyavaad” to the artist afterward means a lot.

If you are keen to discover the real gems, ask locals, music students, or instrument shop owners about ongoing baithaks and small gatherings. Many of the city’s most beautiful evenings don’t appear on posters or Instagram; they travel by word of mouth, from guru to shishya, from neighbor to friend.

Experiencing Classical Banaras with Folk Experience

With Folk Experience, you don’t just attend a program; you're gently guided into the cultural language that holds it together. A curated morning at Subah-e-Banaras might begin with a simple explanation of what a morning raga is, why certain notes are sung at dawn, and how the river, the sun, and the music mirror one another. As the performance unfolds, you’re able to listen with understanding, not just admiration.

Temple concerts can feel overwhelming for newcomers, so having someone to help you with entry, seating, and context makes a difference. A guide can quietly point out who is performing, what gharana they belong to, what compositions they are singing, and why Sankat Mochan or other temples are so important to their journey. Suddenly, you’re not just watching an artist; you’re witnessing a relationship between a devotee, a deity, and music.

Folk Experience also opens doors to artist homes and mini baithaks, where you sit in small circles with musicians, ask questions, and sometimes even watch a short riyaaz session. For those curious to go deeper, there are short workshops on tabla, sitar, or flute, where you can learn how a taal is counted or how a raga is built—not to become an expert, but to appreciate what you hear with fresh ears.

A key focus is ethical contribution. Fees and honorariums are structured so that artists, accompanists, and hosting families are fairly supported. You’re not just consuming culture; you’re helping sustain it. Storytelling sessions on legends like Ustad Bismillah Khan, Pt. Ravi Shankar, Girija Devi, and others weave together biography, anecdote, and listening, so you leave with not just memories but context.

Through such experiences, you begin to realize that in Kashi, a raga is not just notes in order; it is a way of breathing with the city itself.

In Varanasi, music is not performed; it is lived.