CHÁNDI KÁLI SÁRI, or TEMPLE of KÁLI SÁRI.
Returning to the angle of the road which I had left to inspect Béga Mínda and his maimed and headless brethren, and proceeding along the high-road, at a distance of little more than two furlongs further, I crossed the small stream now called Káli Béning, formerly Káli Búhus. A hundred and twenty yards beyond this, having the village of Káli Sári, which gives its name to the temple, close to the right hand, you turn up a path between two hedges in that direction, and at the south-western side of the village, about two hundred yards off the road, you come upon the south-east angle of a large and lofty quadrangular building, having much the appearance of a two-story house, or place of residence of a Hindu Raja. It resembles a temple in no point of view even externally. It is an oblong square, regularly divided into three floors, the ground-floor having in front a large door between two windows, and on the sides two windows corresponding to the others. The first floor appears to have three windows in front, and two in the depth, answering to the apertures below, and through the foliage which decorates and destroys this monument of grandeur, may be seen several small attic windows at intervals, seemingly on the slope of the roof: these, however, are false, as the structure has but the two floors and no other.
The external appearance of this edifice is really very striking and beautiful. The composition and execution of its outer surface evinces infinite taste and judgment, indefatigable patience and skill. Nothing can exceed the correctness and minute beauties of the sculpture throughout, which is not merely profuse, but laboured and worked up to a pitch of peculiar excellence, scarcely suitable to the exterior of any building, and hardly to be expected in much smaller subjects in the interior of the cabinet. It originally stood upon an elevated terrace of from four to six feet in height, of solid stone. The exterior dimensions of this building are fifty-seven feet and a half by thirty-three and a half, measured along the walls just above the terrace or line of the original basement, which is divided obviously enough into three parts, by the centre projecting nearly a foot, and the general correspondent composition or arrangement observable in each. The door in the centre is four feet eight inches and a half wide, surmounted with the wide-gaping, monstrous visage, before described at Chándi Séwu, from which runs round each side of the portal a spiral-fluted chord, ending near the bottom in a large sweep or flourish, inclosing each a caparisoned elephant in a rising posture; the space left over its hinder quarters being filled with the face of a munnook, or human being, all in the usual style of relief. At either side of the door the original coat of stone has fallen, as far as the extremities of the vestibule, which covered the whole central compartment of the east or front of the building. In the middle of each of the other divisions is an aperture or window, nearly a square of eighteen inches, having a very deep and projected double resemblance of a cornice beneath, resting on the upper fillet of the terrace, while the same single projection crowns the top of the window, surmounted with a more lofty and elegant device of two elephants' heads and trunks, embellished and joined in a most tasteful way, with a profusion of other devices. On either side of the windows is a small double pilaster, having a space between for the figure of a small garúda, an effigy well known by the Hindus, which is human down to the waist, and has the body, wings, and talons of an eagle. Beyond the second pilaster, on each side of the windows, is a large niche rising from the terrace to the cornice or division between the upper and lower story. The niche is sunk in the wall about four inches, and is formed by the adjoining pilasters rising straight to their capitals, whence the top of the niche is formed by a very beautiful series of curved lines, leaving the point clear in the centre, which I can hardly compare to any thing but rounded branches of laurel, or some such foliage. This is crowned with a square projecting fillet, which reaches the central cornice dividing the two floors. Beyond the last pilaster of the niches, a single stone brings you to the angle of the building, which is covered from top to bottom with the running arabesque border, most delicately executed. On entering the building, the mind of every one must be fully satisfied that it was never constructed for, or dedicated to, mere religious purposes. The arrangement is entirely adapted to the domestic residence of a great Hindu chieftain or raja.
The whole building, within and without, was originally covered with a coat of very fine chunam, or lime, about one-sixth of an inch thick, of surprising tenacity.