Jana, a joyous slice of Himachal

If you frequently visit Himachal Pradesh, you’ll know that Manali has become a ‘been there, done that’ destination. Once a peaceful retreat, it now primarily serves as a pitstop for travellers heading to Spiti, Leh, or beyond. The town’s once-quaint charm now feels elusive. Even Naggar, once an offbeat haven, is now buzzing with tourists eager to soak in its postcard-perfect landscapes and art-filled corners. So, where can one still experience an unfiltered slice of Himachal Pradesh — Solan? McLeod Ganj? Kasauli? Not quite! And that’s the question that lingers — where can you still find a Himachal untouched by the masses?

For me, the answer came from a pristine village near Naggar — Jana. The name wasn’t unfamiliar. I’d heard of the Jana Waterfall, a small but scenic cascade often recommended for day trips. Yet, no one spoke of the village itself — the life beyond the fleeting Instagram moments at the falls. What I discovered was a village that unfolded like a page from a storybook.

Jana’s charm

From afar, Jana appears like a picture-perfect dream — houses nestled along terraced fields, tall green trees swaying with the mountain breeze, and winding trails meandering through it all. Jana is the kind of place that reveals itself in layers. You can only walk up to the village; the road leading to it winds through apple orchards and deodar forests, where the air is thick with the scent of pine. Upon arrival, the village’s old-school architecture instantly captivates. Almost every home follows the traditional Kath-Kuni style, an ancient Himachali building technique designed to withstand harsh winters and seismic activity. These wooden homes feature intricately carved balconies, with exteriors adorned with dried corn cobs and floral garlands. Almost every house has a flourishing kitchen garden — a riot of green brimming with seasonal vegetables, herbs, and fruit trees. On clear days, the orchard landscapes are a photographer’s dream. Narrow pathways zigzag through progressively stunning vistas, with the snow-capped Himalayas always in view. Cows lazily graze in the fields, and the scent of wood-fired stoves blends with the crisp mountain air. Almost every household has a weaving setup, where woollen coats, shawls, mats, sacks, and blankets are crafted, not for commerce, but for personal use.

Perched slightly above the village, against a backdrop of rolling hills, the local temple stands quietly, much like the ancient deodar trees that surround it. Built from wood and stone, its intricate carvings depict local deities and folklore. The occasional chime of bell-like ornaments hanging from the roof adds to the temple’s serene atmosphere. Then, from behind, a group of little girls appeared, dressed in traditional Himachali attire — embroidered shawls draped elegantly over their shoulders, silver jewellery glinting in the afternoon sun. They giggled among themselves, already striking poses for a picture before I could even take out my camera.

Homely Himachali delights

There is no rush in Jana — just the slow hum of village life. It challenges the notion that progress requires shedding the past. Here, traditions continue because they are a natural part of life, not forced preservation efforts.

I’ve always found Himachali hospitality to be warm, unpretentious, and deeply personal. It was late afternoon as I roamed the village, finding myself invited into local homes for meals. Unlike the quick-fix dishes found in restaurants or the standard ‘Himachali’ thali often served without authenticity, the meal at a local’s home was deeply fulfilling. I sat cross-legged on the floor, the scent of woodsmoke and distant views of snow-capped peaks surrounding me. My plate was warm and heaped with richness — ghee-smeared siddhu, red rice, rajma, and a hearty serving of Bichu Buti saag. I took my first bite. It was simple yet deeply satisfying — the kind of food that doesn’t just fill you but leaves you feeling nourished, comforted, and embraced from the inside. As I ate, the world outside transformed. The last of the daylight melted into deep purples and saffron in the sky, like a watercolour painting. I could see the distant peaks glowing under the final kiss of sunlight. Smoke rose in lazy spirals from other homes in the village, with the scent of charred wood lingering in the air. The temperature had dropped now, and a cool breeze had begun to settle in. I made my way back along the narrow, winding trails, with a breathtaking view of the valley below. The sky had already transformed into a majestic painting, and I paused several times to take in the sunset views. The sunlight stretched golden across the hills, while the wind carried the scent of damp earth and pine needles. The only sounds were the occasional evening chirps of birds heading home.

Perhaps that’s the lesson Jana offers — not everything needs to be rushed. Some places are meant to be experienced slowly, with intention. Just you, the mountains, and the deep, resonant silence that exists only in places untouched by haste.

Where to stay

While there are guesthouses in Jana, they may not offer enough accommodation for a longer stay. The best way to experience the village is by staying in either Naggar or Manali, both of which are close to Jana.