Ceramic Bangladesh Magazine

The Tales of Terracotta Temple

A embodiment of the weirdly mysterious vibe that ancient structures often procure, Kantaji is undoubtedly the most colossal example of terracotta architecture in the region.
Often, it’s the grandiosity or beauty of religious space and/or the stories attached that give an inexplicable feeling of peace to believers, and even to the visitors when they enter the space.


Kantaji is not only a Hindu temple dedicated to Lord Krishna, but this sublime piece of architecture meditating on the banks of Dhepa for three centuries, consisting of almost 15,000 pieces of delicate terracotta on its skin, and has its list of stories and myths attached as well.
These, when combined, give the space a mysterious character that it tenderly holds. But even if you do not know much about Kantaji, being present at the site at the right time when the wind charmingly flows, you will understand that the atmosphere has suddenly taken you to a place where you do not know how old the time is.

The story of Kantaji’s initiation blooms from a bud consisting of conspiracies. It was 1862, the reign of the last mighty Mughal ruler, Aurangzeb, the youngest son of Shahjahan who built the iconic TajMahal. It was also a time when the zamindari of the Dinajpur region was going through a rough phase. The then zamindar, Prannath Roy, was perched on the throne after the consecutive deaths of his two elder brothers. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Prannath was loved by his people. And within a few years, just like many other royal rivalry stories straight out of a novel, enters King Raghbendro Roy, zamindar of Ghoraghat. There was already a rivalry in existence between both the zamindar families of Dinajpur and Ghoraghat.

Raghbendro plotted a conspiracy to take advantage of the situation and sent a letter to Aurangzeb, blatantly lying that Prannath had perched on the throne by killing his two elder brothers, Ramdeb and Joydeb. That he was not only a tyrannical zamindar, but also refused to obey the authority of Delhi’s ruler, Aurangzeb, and was irregular in sending the required tax.
The plot worked. A furious Aurangzeb ordered a show cause and Prannath eventually traveled to the palace of the emperor with gifts. A while after they met, coming across the integrity of the kind-hearted Prannath, Aurangzeb realised his mistake and, out of kindness, gave Prannath the title of King and ordered him to carry on his usual zamindari of Dinajpur.

The story of Kantaji’s initiation blooms from a bud consisting of conspiracies

Here comes the most interesting part. As a devotee to Lord Krishna, when Prannath got out of this danger and received the title of King, as a devotee to Lord Krishna, he decided to do something out of love for his religion. While on his journey back to Delhi, he decided to visit Brindaban for a while and set up a Krishna temple in Dinajpur once he returned. During his stay in Brindaban, he was blown away by a beautiful Krishna statue, and he wanted to bring it back home for the temple he wanted to build. But, as said, he had a dream where Lord Krishna himself appeared and asked him not to take this particular statue as the feelings of the local devotees would be hurt. Instead, Krishna was said to have told Prannath to be patient because he was about to receive a Krishna statue identical to the one he desired during bath the next day, and that Krishna would travel with him on that statue.

Soon after the divine dream, the next day, as Prannath was having his bath, he found an identical Krishna statue, beaming with its entire godly aura. This is what Prannath brought back Dinajpur to install in Kantaji.
But that mysterious Krishna statue is not there anymore. It is believed that after the massive earthquake of 1897, when the temple was badly damaged and lost its original nine spires, for which it was also called “Navaratna”, the statue was stolen from the disastrous site.


There is also a myth that Aurangzeb himself ordered Prannath to set up a Krishna temple, whereas Aurangzeb was a Muslim. And speaking of that, the architects Prannath commissioned for Kantaji were all Muslims. You can still find the brick mosque they built for themselves a few minutes distance from Kantaji. Another interesting fact is that just outside Kantaji’s premise; you will find an abandoned temple-like structure. That was the temporary temple that Prannath originally built, but he eventually wanted a grander one, hence he began the construction of Kantaji in 1704.
Sadly, Prannath could not live long enough to witness the completion of this terracotta masterpiece.

Every inch of the walls is embedded with a highly sophisticated opera of art, composed in a rhythm.
Beautiful floral designs, amazing stories depicted from Ramayana-Mahabharata, and many extremely fascinating contemporary local stories, etc. Perhaps the most fabulously interesting ornamentation on the skins of Kantaji would be the depiction of erotic scenes.
All these stories say so much about spirituality, about what is pious and what is not, about togetherness between human beings of different religions and so on. King Prannath Roy passed away in 1722. His adopted son, Ramnath Roy, took charge of the throne and, according to the last wish of his beloved father, finished the construction in 1752, which stands till date.
With no tickets required, the temple is open at any time of the day and is open to all, regardless of faith. It’s one of the major archeological sites in Bangladesh.