Depth Is What a Mandapa Gives You
A temple in stone is not one space but several: the sanctum where the principal deity stands, and in front of it the mandapa, a pillared hall where people gather. Domestic mandirs almost always compress that into a single shallow niche, because depth costs floor space and floor space costs money. The result is familiar to anyone who keeps more than two or three deities at home: everything ends up in one row along the back, photographs get propped against the wall behind, and the lamp has to stand on the very edge of the platform because there is nowhere else for it.
Four pillars set on a deeper platform restore the missing dimension. There is room for the principal figures to sit forward and centred, for smaller murtis and framed photographs to be arranged behind and to the sides at a slight rise, and for a diya and a thali to stand on the platform without crowding anything. The roofline follows the same architectural logic rather than furniture convention: a flat cornice with a carved frieze and a row of kalash finials, which is what sits above a mandapa in stone, instead of the single dome that belongs over a sanctum. Every element is carved and polished by hand by master Indian artisans.