Hetampur Hazarduari Rajbari, Birbhum

Yes I know I haven't written in a long, long time. Cutting a long story short, I was with my friend Kshitish on October 9th travelling from Durgapur (where my college is) to Calcutta to enjoy the Durga Puja festivities when the bus we were in was hit from behind by a speeding truck. Besides breaking my camera, I also ended up with 14 fractures in my left arm when it hit the metal backrest at great velocity. Also my arm muscles got crushed, the skin burst apart because of the impact & the wounds were so severe that I  had to get over 100 sutures, 6 excruciating surgeries & 4 skin grafts. As of now, am recuperating at home - thanks to physiotherapy & medicines, the bones & the muscles are healing gradually, but I still have extensive neural damage that restricts the movement of my joints so I can't open any of my fingers or rotate my elbow & wrist joints. The doctors have advised me not to travel for 3-4 months more atleast. In the meanwhile, I'll complete the articles that I was supposed to write but never got around to researching, starting with this one that I was working on at the time of the accident. I am not guaranteeing that the posts would be regular & numerous like before, but I promise I'll do my best!! Happy reading!!

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Next to a wide highway crawling through lush green fields lies a small rural hamlet, more of an agglomerate of mediocre houses, tiny shops & shanties, roadside eateries & unpaved, pockmarked & rain-drenched roads – each of these suitably encapsulated within a little grove of its own by the roadside. Massive trucks & lorries loiter past; migratory birds call their pit stops here; the spread of vegetation soothes the eyes; the water bodies that naturally come to life after every cycle of rains provide spots for the flora of the region to flourish, the fauna to quench their thirst & the kids to escape the tropical sun & the humidity that comes with the rains in this part of the world. Dark, ominous clouds shroud the sky, bringing with them hordes of insects, especially dragonflies, masses of which try to follow every moving body – be it a truck, a person or cattle. The greenery, the highway snaking through it & the gnarled trees – each of these together conspire to present a picture of harmonious bliss, an idyllic setting unimpeded by the rush of modernity engulfing the world round it, undisturbed by the events, big & small, happening near & far. The impression of an Indian village is further completed by the presence of small hutments, still smaller temples & cattle grazing around the fields & the water bodies.

The remains of the impressive palace & the modern school building (right foreground)

But sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of this little green paradise is a huge palace that would perhaps have felt more at home in the plains of Europe. Ill-suited for an Indian setting, it was constructed when the Europeans – the British, Dutch, Portuguese & French – came calling at India’s shores in search of riches & treasures & claimed a position of power & authority to both commission & influence construction activity reminiscent of their native places. The Indian subjects, including the Nawabs & the Zamindars (vassals) - each of them exploited & subjugated in one way or the other - were only too eager to please their European lords in order to avoid further taxation & hardships. The Nawabs, merchants & wealthy govt. officials adopted European cultural & architectural practices – soon, it was Gothic & Victorian architectural that came to define the building scene in India, even in far-flung villages like Hetampur where the British had made their writ established. In 1905, the royal family of Hetampur (a corruption of “Hatempur”, after the then Zamindar Hatem Khan) commissioned a massive Gothic palace, the protagonist of this post, as their privileged residence – the gigantic structure boasts of 999 doors in its plan (one less than the thousand doors of the Murshidabad royal palace as a mark of respect to the most powerful rulers of Bengal), hence christened as “Hazarduari” (“Thousand doors”) “Rajbari” (“Royal residence”) – but one look at the building & one bemoans the fate of the palace that has certainly seen far better days.

Some of the 999 doors - View from an inner courtyard

The Hetampur royal family was established by Radhanath Chakravarty who rose from meager beginnings & subdued the Roys, the then ruling family, to establish a stronghold which he further fortified by buying huge tracts of lands in & around Birbhum & defeating contending rulers & zamindars. He accepted British suzerainty & was granted the title of “Maharaja” (a nominal title, literally “king”, bestowed by the British government; abolished along with the vassal system & hereditary titles when India gained its freedom) by the British Indian government in 1796. His sons & grandsons further expanded the family’s territorial domain & influence & they finally became the most powerful family in the whole of Birbhum, bringing their former masters, the Roys & the Rajnagar family, under their thumb. Maharaja Ram Ranjan Chakravarty (born 1851, died 1912) rendered invaluable help to the government during the disastrous famine of 1874 & was thus granted the title of “Bahadur”. He commissioned the magnificent Rajbari (it was then known as “Ranjan Palace”, christened after the Maharaja) & though he himself did not live long enough to enjoy the pleasures afforded by this Neo-Classical mansion, he left it behind as a souvenir of his rich & fertile reign.

Built to awe - This is just the gateway of the complex!!

A grand red brick gateway, supported by massive Corinthian pillars & interspersed with arched windows & entrances, ushers visitors inside the huge complex that houses the forgotten palace. Marked by slender protruding eaves supported on equally-spaced brackets & topped by several feminine figurines with their arms outstretched, the gateway itself is a commanding structure – the central portion, raised higher than the extremities & supported by tall pillars gives it a militaristic look – on first sight it seems as if there would be armed guards keeping an eye at visitors from the red-painted arched windows on the first floor – but reality often betrays expectations & imaginations – small children no more than 7-8 years of age look at us with wide eyes, giggling & scuttling away as soon as we fish out our cameras. The palace houses a DAV school & a B.Ed college in its premises & hence the young scholars.

The royal quarters

Enter the gateway & one comes against a vast expanse that renders even considering this stretch as part of a palace compound into a struggle. Several trucks were parked shoulder to shoulder, many of them filled with what looked like coal, others revving up & readying to move out; mounds of debris & coal lay hitherto over open, dust-laden ground. Elsewhere, weeds & creepers seemed to have overtaken the entire ground, from the broken wooden doors that lay half-hidden amidst the all-encompassing vegetation to the moss-laden octagonal well that appeared more green than brown – so much so that we could not photograph the twin wings that make up the palace from the front & had to make do with a side shot. Stepping through the desolation, the ruinous state of the once magnificent palace came as no surprise – the thick, yellow pillars had turned brownish-green due to decay; all the features that described the Victorian architecture of the structure, including the ornamental tops of the Corinthian pillars, the plasterwork along the pyramidal roof & other decorative features such as the crenellations along the roof are almost gone, turned into an indecipherable, indistinguishable smudgy mask over the yellow walls & the blue rooftops; most of the original expensive Burma teak doors & windows have since been stolen & were never replaced. That the massive palace was once an impressive example of English architecture in this distant corner of the world is beyond doubt, but today a clothesline & broken furniture strewn around the structure mar the little grandeur & sophistication it is left with. Sadly the interiors are in an even worst state compared to the exteriors – by the means of wooden semi-walls & divisions, the ground floor (painted vivid blue throughout!!) has been partitioned into separate quarters for the several families that now live here. A thick layer of dust covers everything that does not move, from the wooden partitions to the portraits on the walls; in an especially secluded corner marked by thick cobwebs, an old Bajaj scooter stands next to old riff-raff including wooden cupboards, plastic containers, a few clothes & an idol of an old, bespectacled man.

Shabby & ignored - The palace interiors

Through the maze of rooms & their sub-divisions we finally found the stairway leading to the upper floor – a huge trapdoor angled along the incline of the staircase was a surprise to us as this was the first time we were seeing something like this - the heavy steel door could be forced shut at the time of aggression or an enemy siege. The first floor is considerably well maintained compared to the ground floor – the walls retain their original character; the framed photographs hanging on the walls were covered only in a minute layer of dust. The harmony was shattered by a disused, broken wooden palanquin comfortably tacked in the verandah, its musty interiors stuffed with old files & wood shavings, a hay stack lying along one of its sides & submerging the wooden poles that the bearers would have once held to carry the palanquin & the royal personage seated within. In one of the rooms sat the present head of the Hetampur royal family - an old Zamindar bent double with age, whose cough could be heard resounding through the whole floor – one of the attendants tending to him told us that both the "Raja" & his wife are gravely ill, both of them having had a stroke within a quarter year of each other. But the Raja was gracious enough to allow us to photograph his palace provided we did not make much noise (fine, I must have told the attendants about this blog & the other publications I write for along with the sentence “But we have come from Delhi!!” to coax them for permission).

The unique trapdoor

Two of the rooms, now converted into classrooms, still display much of the original paintwork they were embellished with including floral motifs (around the arched doorways & even the light switches!!) & striking frescoes depicting scenes from Indian mythology, splendidly painted & vividly-colored,  executed in arched niches above the many doors that line the room's perimeter. Even the roof overlooking the wide staircase is done in huge, green & pink, four-pointed star motifs inlaid with more floral patterns. From the corridors one can look down to the courtyards enclosed by the palace (& wonder what are those big, black silos doing in the courtyard??). Looking at those numerous doors sprouting out from each wall & guessing which one leads where one indeed feels like “Alice in Wonderland”.

One of the vivid frescoes executed in a large room that now serves as a classroom

The palace building is flanked by an equally large white building which houses the school & college & thankfully possesses considerably lesser number of doors than the palace building. Between the two, a narrow path leads to the roofed shelter where the royal chariot is parked – though the chariot appears as if it could be of service for a few more years, the shelter itself is crumbling apart with the paint flaking off the walls, the pillars caved in at places & the whole area submerged in black muck & hay. One has to get her/his shoes dirty to photograph the chariot. At one time, there must have been elephants roaming the massive grounds of the palace complex & their trainers working on them; Sadly, even the horses are missing at present. Strewn around the shelter lay branches hacked off from trees, perhaps to be used as fuel wood; an upturned & grievously crushed motorcycle stood vertically upturned in the middle of the log pile – hilariously I hoped the inhabitants won't burn the motorcycle when they light the fire!! A large room that can be entered from the door preceding the chariot shelter houses a small police station too. The contribution of the Hetampur royal family towards the police & education system is quite evident – the colleges & schools that exist in this small administrative sub-division have all been founded by the royal family.

Portraits - The one on the top is that of the Chandranath Shiva Temple nearby that is patronized by the royal family

Adjacent to the white building is a flight of stairs that leads to the huge pond teeming with lotuses & flies alike. Sitting on the steps closest to the pond is bliss, especially since my friends Kshitish & Aakash are there to discuss college gossip & girlfriend stuff. It totally turned out to be a boy’s day out for us.

What would it look like in spring!!?

As we stepped out of the small hamlet & started walking along the highway towards our next destination, we fell into a discussion regarding the state of the ruined palace & what would happen to it in coming few years – the Raja & his wife seemed so frail & terribly ill, will their family care for this hereditary possession after they have passed away?? Or will it fall into an even bitter state of neglect & despair?? Interestingly, the Rajbari has featured in several films made by Hindi & Bengali directors, most notable among them being Satyajit Ray!! Regardless of the palace's short & forgotten theatrical association, one is forced to ask why the government should bother with its upkeep & conservation when there are so many more magnificent instances of architecture & heritage lying in equal or worse state of disrepair/disregard. Why would anyone, except for heritage enthusiasts like us, bother about an old, crumbling building that exists in a seldom-visited part of a far-flung state where even basic facilities of residence & safety are non-existent (read my post about the nearby Chandranath Temple here - Pixelated Memories - Chandranath Shiva Temple, we came across a small roadside eatery where even normal-looking bottled beer tasted evil).

I wish I was also taught in a palace :(

Some enlightened souls might argue that some structures are meant to disappear after their lease of life has expired, but they forget that it is us who through our ignorance & selfishness allowed these buildings which form an important link to our colonial past come to a stage where their structure has fallen apart & originality lost. That these should be preserved & restored to their original state even when the monetary/tourism benefits are not foreseeable in the near future is non-negotiable. We can only hope that following this & similar articles the tourists flow in & with them comes awareness & effort before it is too late for this & other splendid architectural specimens.
Our thanks to the Raja for allowing us to photograph his estate to our heart’s delight!!

Location: Hetampur village, Birbhum
How to reach: SBSTC Buses are available from different parts of Bengal to Hetampur. Alternately one can reach Suri, the headquarters of Birbhum & take a bus from there to Hetampur (Approx. 1.5hr away). The Rajbari is known to everyone, ask your way around.
Entrance Fee: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 1 hr

Relevant Links - 

1. Pixelated Memories - Chandranath Shiva Temple

Suggested Reading -

1. Facebook.com/An Era of Indian Zamindars, Taluqdars, Jagirdars - Hetampur Raj
2. Flickr.com/Kanad Sanyal - Gateway to Lost Grandeur
3. Iinet.net.au - Hetampur (Zamindari)
4. Telegraphindia.com - Article "When the hurlyburly's done" (dated March 4, 2010) by Anusua Mukherjee
5. Thenomadicarchaeologist.com - Prisoner of Silhouette
6. Travel.outlookindia.com - Feats of Clay - Bengal beyond Bishnupur

Kankalitala Shaktipeetha, Birbhum

The simplest of all "Shakti Peetha" ("Centers of spiritual power") that I have come across so far during my sojourns, Kankalitala temple in Birbhum (Bengal) is also by far one of the most unadorned temples that I have ever been to – to sum it, the main shrine consists of just an ordinary colonnaded rectangular hall with a small enclosed sanctum on one end. The square sanctum, surmounted by a typical pyramidal roof, possesses only a nondescript, thoroughly garlanded portrait of Goddess Kali (the Hindu Goddess of death and destruction) that is kept surrounded by adornments and articles of worship. What was more shocking was that this simplicity of the shrine continued even during the holy Hindu month of "Sawan" that is dedicated to the worship of Shiva, Goddess Kali's consort and the primordial Hindu God of death and destruction – being an important center of pilgrimage visited by devotees throughout the year and especially during Sawan, one would have assumed the temple to be beautifully decorated, but nothing of that sort! Unaware of the significance of the holy month and its subsequent effect on the temple's daily footfall, we were in for a shock when we visited the shrine complex – there were at least a thousand "Kanwariyas" jostling for space not only within the complex  but also along the streets and in public buses – we literally felt we have landed in the middle of a small, boring and very poorly oganized fair where everyone decided to dress up in saffron! Every Sawan, millions of these men, women and children, collectively referred to as "Kanwariyas" and dressed in saffron for easy identification, throng to the river Ganga armed with slender ornamental poles (imaginatively decorated with miniature plastic tridents, idols of Shiva, snakes and other symbolism associated with Lord Shiva according to Hindu mythology) affixed with water pots on each side. Travelling in large groups on foot/buses, these people embark for the journey from their native places and head to the sacred river where they fill the water pots which they later empty either at the temple they regularly visit or at one of the mythological hallowed sites such as a Shakti Peetha – owing to the belief that completing the journey on foot will avail greater spiritual benefits, especially in the afterlife, most of the Kanwariyas prefer to cover the journey on foot and even children as young as 7-8 years walk several hundred kilometers! Incredible India, isn't it?!

The image of Goddess Kali gracing the sanctum. Notice also that Lord Shiva has been depicted lying under her feet, an iconography derived from another Kali legend that has been previously discussed here – Pixelated Memories - Kali Puja, Durgapur.

The mythological lore governing the existence of each of the 51 legendary Shakti Peethas throughout the Indian subcontinent has been discussed in detail here – Pixelated Memories - Kamakhya Temple, Assam (Kamakhya Temple happened to be the first such shrine I visited).The Kanwariyas, who look for such indisputably holy spots to empty their quota of the water from Ganga in exchange for spiritual well-being, throng to these Shakti Peethas like bees to honey and Kankalitala temple, where the Goddess’ cleaved waist is said to have fallen, is no exception to this – the thousands of pilgrims jostling to pay respects to the mother Goddess are witness to this and ensured that we could not get clear photos of either the temple or the sanctum. And that's not all, we couldn't even get standing space in the bus we took to reach the temple and had to actually sit on its roof while the skies rained and thundered heavily.

The central temple at Kankalitala

But the temple's simplicity does not mean that it does not hide impressive surprises – the first of these, a huge gateway crafted by local sculptor-artists and decorated with painstakingly executed terracotta panels, greets visitors at the very periphery of the complex itself – the magnificence of the gateway is derived from, but not limited to, its thick cylindrical pillars embossed with panels depicting royal processions, traditional dancers and elephants.

Design motifs on the entrance gateway to the temple complex

As mentioned earlier, the sanctum is a simplistic square sanctuary capped by a pyramidal roof which is further topped by a metallic spire shaped like ceremonial pots of gradually decreasing sizes placed atop each other. The Natmandir, where visitors and devotees sit and pray from (the raised pillared hall already mentioned) is three bays wide and four bays long. Unlike other Shakti Peethas, here Goddess Sati’s organs aren’t reverentially placed in the sanctum but are said to be submerged in a square tank (“Kund”) which is located close to the central temple and lead to by a flight of stairs on each side. Devotees, mostly women, descend down to the level of the venerable tank and take the sacred water in their palm to rub it on the forehead (assuming from what I observed in the short while that we stayed at the temple, here too, like Kamakhya Temple of Assam, drinking the hallowed water and thereby polluting it with saliva is prohibited).

On the other side of the temple is a sacred tree on which are hung numerous marigold wreaths and rounded stones tied via threads – a Bengali tradition to pray for pregnancy and safe childbirth. The Kanwariyas had left their now-emptied poles against the tree and the colors of the ornamental, vibrantly-colored poles contrasting against the bark of the old tree seemed visually attractive, but the incessant rains hampered any chances of clicking photographs, in fact we remained throughout the stay at Birbhum perennially afraid of damaging the cameras!

The sacred crater supposedly formed due to the impact of Goddess Sati's waist hitting the earth. It subsequently got filled with water.

The temple complex is actually very large, however there aren't many permanent structures within the campus – the associated Shiva temple, lined with marble and adorned with vermilion motifs, is located a couple of hundred meters away, close to the entrance gateway. The venerated Shivalinga (symbolic of Shiva’s phallus placed atop the Goddess' vagina) is made of hard black stone and adoringly referred to as "Shambhu Baba" and "Ruru Bhairav". Interestingly, at first sight the thick phallic construction appears to be buried in a deep crater which too, like the rest of the shrine's floor, is faced with spotless white marble on all sides; in fact, the priests who chant invocations while showering the linga with ceremonial water, flowers and condiments stand on a much higher plane compared to the deity they revere. The linga was once complete and protruded from the ground in all its majesty, but was destroyed base upwards by a viciously iconoclast 16th-century Muslim General popularly known as "Kala Pahar" (literally "Black Mountain", perhaps referring to his unparalleled physical strength or his terrible stone-heartedness) when Bengal was ruled by Afghan Pathan warlord Sulaiman Khan Karrani, a vassal of Mughal Emperor Akbar (ruled AD 1556-1605). That such a thick monolith was broken to pieces speaks of the animosity Kala Pahar felt for Hindus and their ancient traditions, though it is said that he himself was a convert from Hinduism and later notoriously excelled in destroying temples and religious sites. Also, the original structure of Assam's Kamakhya temple too was demolished by this ferocious General, as revealed in the earlier article here – Pixelated Memories - Kamakhya Temple, Assam.

The pit where the Shivalinga exists in its broken form

Opposite the Shiva temple is another roofed pavilion where the ornamental chariot used for the “Rath Yatra” (“Chariot journey”) of the deities is housed. The temple complex also boasts of a large cremation ground. As already mentioned, the temple was teeming with pilgrims and Kanwariyas on the day we visited; but, I do not expect the number of devotees to be that strong on other occasions, even though the temple is associated with “Bauls” (traditional mystic singers-composers) – one should properly time their visits, especially to religious sites, to avoid crowds if the purpose is architectural photography. Kankalitala is not part of the usual pilgrim circuit; richer and better located Shakti Peethas such as Kalighat (Calcutta) and Kamakhya steal the spotlight, but the crowds at the temple only prove how revered it is amongst devotees, many of whom come from afar. If only it were more developed and not so desolate!

Location: Birbhum, Bankura, West Bengal
Open: Sunrise to sunset

How to reach: Buses are available for Kankalitala from Siuri, Rajarhat and Bolpur divisions of Bankura district. The shrine can also be accessed by taking train to Bolpur/Rajarhat and from bus there on.

Entrance Fees: Nil

Photography/Video charges: Nil

Time required for sightseeing: 45 min
Relevant Links - 

1. Pixelated Memories - Kali Puja, Durgapur
2. Pixelated Memories - Kalighat Temple, Calcutta
3. Pixelated Memories - Kamakhya Temple, Assam

Suggested Reading - 

1. Blog.yantrajaal.com - The Broken Shivalinga at Kankalitala
2. Kalibhakti.com - Kankalitala

Chandranath Shiva Temple, Hetampur, Birbhum

One of the most beautifully ornamented temples that I’ve come across my travels, Chandranath Shiva Temple is also one of the smallest standalone temples that I’ve ever encountered. Despite its miniscule size, the temple’s magnificence leaves one awestruck – at first glance the temple is so indecipherable from its surroundings that one does not even stop by to admire the sheer brilliance of the craftsmen who built it. Surrounded by a small courtyard that complements its splendor through its simplicity, the extraordinary temple is hidden behind a row of trees that have come up around it & are now competing with each other to see which one amongst them scales the height of the temple first. Camouflaged by the foliage that surrounds it & also by the now-blackened terracotta tiles that adorn every square inch of its structure, the temple is not easily distinguishable from its surroundings – we (me, Kshitish & Aakash - yep, they had disappeared for sometime but have started travelling again. Am glad!!) passed it once while on our way to the Hetampur Rajbari (“Royal Palace”) & did not even notice it, it was only when we were returning & inquiring with locals about the temple’s precise location that we chanced upon it inadvertently. Were it not for the graceful pinnacles of the temple rising above the foliage & acting as a beacon for confused visitors, we would have been completely at sea in this small village.

Terracotta dazzle!! - One of the best photos I clicked of the temple

The pinnacles have been designed in the Bengali Navaratna (“Nine jewel”) style where small domes rise around a central larger dome from a common base – a rounded pyramidal pinnacle surmounts the corners of the three sides facing to the front, the simplistic fourth side unadorned by either terracotta panels or pinnacles & hemmed in by the courtyard. Each of the pinnacle is crowned by a human figurine, it appears to be a lady with her hands outstretched – indicating that the temple’s architecture is also influenced by English traditions & art apart from the Bengali architectural style – certainly the British were officially ruling over the whole of Bengal & were the virtual rulers of the whole subcontinent in 1846 when the temple was constructed (11 years later the British would defeat the Great Mughals & the smaller independent kingdoms in the First war of Independence/Sepoy Mutiny & become the actual rulers of the subcontinent). Similar figurines adorn the gateway of the Rajbari which is situated close by. Significantly, a vintage portrait of the temple hangs within the Rajbari – perhaps it was the Nawab of the Hetampur house who commissioned this graceful temple & possessed refined tastes that came up with the fusion of traditional Bengali & English art & architecture. 

The temple's singular design, especially the pinnacled-roof, is pretty uncommon even in these parts. Notice the double courtyard extending in the front.

The cramped sanctum offers space adequate enough for only two people to stand in – a white Shiva linga (a thick phallus that is supposed to represent & worshipped as Shiva, the gentle but fierce primordial deity of the Hindus, the supreme soul who is also responsible for the destruction of the universe at the end of its lifecycle) seated on a beautiful base accompanied by a slender trident (Shiva’s weapon of choice) is all that there is inside the unadorned sanctum apart from a calendar that hangs on one of the walls. The terracotta panels that decorate three of the temple’s four sides are surprisingly intricate – apart from geometrical & floral patterns, the sculpted panels depict Indian deities, European gown-clad women & hat-wearing men & royal seals complete with a shield & lions. The walls of the temple, covered in soot & grime, blackened with time reflect its antiquity, but conspire to hide its sheer brilliance. The terracotta panels reveal patterns & mythological figurines carved with great skill & passion – gaping with astonishment & admiration at this little specimen of unmatched native art & architecture, we couldn’t help but wonder if more such temples wait for us in Bengal. The temple is flanked on one side by a shop & on the other by a house that easily dwarfs it; opposite it extends a row of shops. A small hand-pump outside the temple is the source of drinking water for fatigued travellers like us. Though the temple has made it to the list of State-protected heritage structures, however I doubt if any financial aid or expert conservation assistance reaches this small structure in the middle of a poor village along the highway (SH 14). Hetampur is like most of the Indian villages/townships scattered around the countryside - dust covered, solemnly quiet, remote & forgotten.

Patterned brilliance!!

Sadly, I could not find any information about the temple’s construction or who commissioned it, perhaps the Nawab of Hetampur could have guided us in this quest, but he was not in very good health when we visited the place – having himself suffered a stroke some months back, the old man was nursing his wife who has recently suffered a stroke & is confined to bed rest – that he permitted us to photograph the Rajbari & document its deplorable condition despite the pains that have befallen them is a big honor for which owe them our gratitude. I still wouldn't suggest a trip exclusively to visit Hetampur - there isn't anything to do & you'll be bored to death. One can instead opt for a zig-zag tour covering Hetampur-Kankalitala or Hetampur-Nalhati, but you'll have to travel long distances in rickety buses. If you are a monument/architecture buff who would not stop at anything to see one of the most splendid temples in the area, then this place is definitely for you. Happy travelling!!

Location: Hetampur village, Birbhum
How to reach: SBSTC Buses are available from different parts of Bengal to Hetampur. Alternately one can reach Suri, the headquarters of Birbhum & take a bus from there to Hetampur (1.5hr approx. distance). The temple is a short walk from the Rajbari (which is known to everyone, so ask your way around)
Entrance Fee: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 20 min
Advice - Stay away from the beer, even the bottled & branded ones, available at the numerous road-side eateries ("Dhabas") here, you are going to regret it later like we did!!
Suggested - 

1. Europeana.eu - Chandranatha-Shiva Temple at Hetampur, Birbhum District.
2. Youtube.com - Some remarkable terracotta temples of Hetampur & Illambazaar