Beyond the Beach: Discovering Puri’s Soul With the Whole Family
The Morning We Knew This Trip Was Different
I will be honest with you. I did not plan this trip expecting to be surprised.
Puri is one of those destinations that feels entirely familiar before you even arrive, the Jagannath Temple, the long stretch of Golden Beach, the smell of salt and marigolds in the air. We had spoken about coming here for years, and when we finally made it happen; four adults, two children, and my in-laws in tow, I assumed I knew exactly what kind of holiday it would be.
Then my mother-in-law stepped out onto the balcony on our first morning at Sterling Puri, looked out at the Bay of Bengal catching the early light, and went completely quiet. Not the exhausted quiet of a long journey. The other kind. The kind that means something has genuinely moved you.
That was the moment I realised this trip was going to be different. Sterling Puri had something we had not anticipated: the feeling, from the very first morning, that we had found a Puri that belonged to us.
Checking In: Something for Everyone, All Under One Roof
Travelling with three generations is a beautiful exercise in compromise. Grandparents want comfort and calm. Parents want the children entertained without losing their own minds. Children want everything, immediately, and at full volume.
Sterling Puri, almost miraculously, seemed to have thought about all of us.
The rooms were spacious; genuinely spacious, not the polite fiction of hotel brochures. My in-laws had the ease and accessibility they needed; we had room for the children’s considerable chaos; and there were quiet corners of the property where the adults could simply sit and exhale. The resort sits at a remarkable geographical point where the Bhargavi River meets the Bay of Bengal, which means that there is water in view. It is the kind of setting that does half the work of relaxing you before you have even unpacked.
And just beyond the lawns, a stretch of shoreline waited, quieter and more private than anything we had hoped for.
The Shoreline That Belonged to Us
We had planned to spend a long afternoon at Golden Beach and we did, eventually, and it was everything a famous Indian beach should be: loud, colourful, full of energy and vendors and the beautiful anarchy of a public holiday crowd.
But every morning of our stay, without fail, the whole family drifted towards Sterling’s own stretch of shoreline first.
My mother-in-law did her morning prayers facing the sea, the water lapping a few feet away, nobody else in sight. My father-in-law walked the sand slowly with the children, who had appointed themselves official shell collectors for the duration of the trip. My husband and I stood together in the early quiet and did something we almost never do on family holidays: absolutely nothing.
We kept coming back to it, every morning and most evenings, long after we had ticked off every item on our Puri itinerary.
The River Morning: Young Explorers on the Bhargavi
On day two, the resort arranged something the children still talk about: a morning boat ride on the Bhargavi River.
We set out just after sunrise, the water still and slightly misty. My father-in-law, who has a lifelong passion for birdwatching, was in his element pointing out species, lowering his voice to a whisper, completely transformed from the man who had been complaining about his knees the night before. The children had been designated ‘Young Explorers’ for the morning, armed with a small notebook and instructions to write down everything they spotted. They took this responsibility with extraordinary seriousness.
By evening, the same family that had drifted gently along a quiet river was standing at the edge of the Bay of Bengal watching waves crash with full, dramatic force. The contrast was startling and wonderful, calm water to wild sea in the span of a single day, and both experienced from the same base.
The resort also helped us arrange a visit to Raghurajpur, the nearby artisan village where every home is decorated with Pattachitra paintings. Walking through it with the children, watching craftspeople work in their doorways, felt like stepping into a living museum; unhurried, unscripted, and completely unforgettable.
Flour-Dusted Hands & Festival Feasts
If I had to choose the two days that defined this trip, they would be the last two days.
The Chappan Bhog cooking workshop came first. Chappan Bhog – the legendary 56-item offering of the Jagannath Temple is one of Odisha’s most sacred culinary traditions, and Sterling’s team had created a hands-on workshop where guests could participate in preparing some of these temple-inspired dishes themselves.
We rolled up our sleeves. Literally. The children were immediately, joyfully, covered in flour. My mother-in-law, who has cooked for five decades and accepts culinary instruction from approximately no one, was quietly, visibly delighted leaning in to ask questions, tasting, nodding with the measured approval of someone who knows exactly what they are eating. At one point she declared that a particular preparation was ‘almost right,’ which, from her, is extraordinarily high praise.
That evening, we sat down to a proper Odia Bhoj- a traditional spread of flavours rooted in Odisha’s temple cuisine, served in a refined, comfortable setting that somehow felt both celebratory and deeply home-like. The children, who are not always adventurous eaters, tried everything. The adults went back for more.
The Pattachitra painting workshop the following afternoon was quieter, more meditative. Local artisans guided each of us through the ancient art of Odia painting: the intricate lines, the mythological stories encoded in every motif, the patience required to let each layer of natural colour dry before adding the next. My father-in-law, a man who has never considered himself artistic in any way, produced a small painting of Lord Jagannath that he carried back to Delhi wrapped carefully in newspaper and has since had framed.
We didn’t have to go searching for Odisha’s culture. At Sterling Puri, it came to us on our lawns, in our kitchen, at our table.
On our last evening, the resort hosted a Gotipua dance performance on the lawn. As the sun went down over the Bay of Bengal and the young dancers moved through their extraordinary grace, all six of us sat together in the warm dark and did not say a word. Some moments don’t need commentary.
The Temple, Town & a Bag Full of Memories
We did, of course, step beyond the resort, Puri demands it. The Jagannath Temple is one of the holiest sites in India and an experience of overwhelming, moving scale. The local markets are full of Pattachitra souvenirs, shell jewellery, and the kind of street food that ruins your diet with absolutely no regrets.
The best moment of our day trips came from the children. Walking through a market lane on our last afternoon, my daughter suddenly grabbed my hand and pointed at a shopfront decorated with a Pattachitra mural. ‘We painted that,’ she said, with complete certainty. ‘We know how to do that now.’
She was not wrong.
Why We Are Already Planning to Come Back
A multigenerational holiday has one fundamental test: did everyone leave happy? Not just tolerant, not just ‘it was fine’ actually happy.
My mother-in-law: the Odia Bhoj and the morning shoreline. My father-in-law: his framed Pattachitra and every bird he spotted on the river. The children: the boat, the waves, the flour, the dancing. My husband and I: the rare, genuine peace of a holiday that took care of itself.
Sterling Puri gave us a Puri that went far beyond the beach into the river, into the kitchen, into the art and music and food of a culture that deserves to be experienced slowly and fully, with the people you love most.
