Anveshana - Exploration
I am up early today. It's a brilliant morning and I can hear the chirping of new birds. As I walk towards the main reception, beautiful devotional songs sound from all parts of the resort. An oft-repeated line from Surah Ar-Rahman comes to my mind, "So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?"

The resort boat takes me to the jetty. The night I came in, I missed out on seeing the colourful Kerala homes by the water, the serene village life and the majestic houseboats. People are going about their daily rituals. What strikes me is the organized lifestyle and supreme cleanliness of the whole place. The backwaters are pristine.

A taxi is waiting for me at the jetty. I have to go to Puthenangady where I am meeting my Israeli friends, Miri and Dina. From there, we will go to Fort Kochi. We have named ourselves "Charlie's Angels" and of course I am Sabrina. We are from that generation.

At Fort Kochi, our guide is Thomas.  He takes us around; past Parade Ground, St. Francis' Church where Vasco Da Gama was originally buried, through St. Thomas Syro-Malabar Catholic Church and finally end up in Mattancherry Dutch Palace and the Paradesi Synagogue. Most of the Cochini Jews migrated to Israel in the early seventies. There are now only a handful of them left. We are not allowed to take pictures inside the synagogue. As soon as most tourists leave, we take some pictures – only to be reprimanded by a Jewish lady. 

We then head out for the ancient city of Muziris that dates back to the 1st century BC. It was one of the earliest trading gateways to India for Arabs, Jews, Chinese, Romans, Greek, Dutch, Portuguese, and the British who came here for everything from spices to gems. And you can see it in the faces of the people here. They are a mix of all the different genes. 

Taking the Kochi-Vypeem ferry to Muziris saves us twenty minutes of road time. It gives me an opportunity to photograph and learn about Chinese fishing nets. The Chinese came here in the 15th century and taught the local fishermen a unique method of fishing. The same nets are also apparently used along the coastal areas of Bangladesh. The nets are fixed on the shores and every few minutes they are raised by pulling on ropes that have stones suspended on the ends. It is absolutely fascinating! 

In Muziris, we visit the Chendamangalam synagogue, a beautiful white washed structure. Although there was once an active Jewish community, not a single Jew lives there now. This time, we are allowed to take pictures, and we visit an ancient Jewish cemetery. Behind the synagogue, there is a shiva temple. And behind the temple is a mosque. Complete tolerance and harmony. Many religions have come over the centuries and converged in Cochin. None of it came with swords, it only came with Dharma. 

The oldest mosque in India, the Cheraman Juma Masjid is on our way, in Thrissur. Built in 629 AD by Malik Ibn Dinar, many Muslims and non-Muslims bring their children here when they start schooling. Inside, there is an ancient oil lamp which is always kept burning, and people of all religions bring oil for the lamp as an offering. We stop by and I offer my Zuhr prayers in the ladies section. Miri and Dina are not allowed in. I think about all my visits to the synagogues, and feel guilty. 

All three of us agree that retail therapy is part of 'exploration'. For women anyway. We decide to go shopping for my coveted 'setta sarees'. Along with two beautiful sarees, we end up with cardamoms and other spices, pulio, Kashmiri chili, saffron, idli makers, and spice containers. We walk along Jew Street and visit an old synagogue that has now turned into a shop selling aquariums and fishes. There is a not-so-ornate Jama Masjid alongside a temple, echoing Delhi's grand structure. All co-existing together. One shop has a huge frame of the Holy Ka'aba above a frame of the 'Last Supper'.

It's evening already and we rush for our next 'culture-vulture' activity, the Kathakali Dance performance. The Kathakali dancers sit on the stage and do their makeup in front of the audience. It's a form of a dance drama that uses facial and dramatic eye expressions, mudras and elaborate costumes, makeup and gestures. The room is full of white tourists. I am the only 'Indian' around it seems.

After the dance show, it's time to part ways with my sisters from another world. Miri and Dina are leaving for Mumbai tomorrow and I need to get back to Coconut Lagoon. Upon reaching, I am told that my Houseboat trip for tomorrow has been cancelled due to…guess what?...Hartal! What is it with this subcontinental obsession of hartals? 

"How can there be a hartal on the water?" I ask indignantly. 

"Well ma'am, we can't take the risk," the receptionist says, rolling his head sideways.

Back in my room, it smells heavenly from the packets of cardamom I bought. The pillow has a bunch of jasmine buds on it. I write a haiku in my head:
      Lingering fragrance 
      Of jasmine and cardamom
      Reminds me of you.

Sabrina Islam is an entrepreneur and intrepid traveller.