Interdenominational Veneration in Fort Cochin, India
Harmony Among the Inhabitants of All Faiths
For curious reasons, Fort Cochin—a small peninsula that juts into the backwaters and faces the Arabian Sea in Kerala’s southwest—is the only city I regularly visit in India.
During my most recent visit, just a month ago, I was struck by the deep religiosity of the people I encountered. Whether they belonged to Hinduism, Christianity, or Islam—the three major religions in the region—or to smaller communities like the Jains or the handful of Jews in Jew Town, their devotion was unmistakable.
Sacred Space and Mutual Respect
What impressed me most was the reverence the people of Cochin show toward sacred spaces—not only their own, but also those of others. One cannot imagine here the burning of churches as in Pakistan, the prohibition of church-building as in Malaysia, or the desecration of Jewish cemeteries as seen in France. Such acts feel inconceivable in Cochin.
This harmony has deep historical roots. Hinduism is the native faith of Kerala, although archaeological evidence—such as dolmens near Cochin—suggests the presence of pre-Hindu, aboriginal traditions. Christianity and Islam have also had ancient footholds in the region. St. Thomas the Apostle is believed to have traveled along the Malabar Coast. The Portuguese, arriving with Vasco da Gama, were reportedly surprised to find active Christian communities already established. Arab traders brought Islam to these shores long before its violent spread elsewhere.
Notably, India may be the only country where Jews have lived for centuries without experiencing antisemitism.
Observances in Cochin and Abroad
I am writing this from Brussels, Belgium. Outside my window, I see a group of schoolgirls in hijab—an image that feels like an anomaly in this European context. Yet in Cochin, such a sight feels entirely natural.
Every morning in Cochin, you’ll see Hindu children with sandalwood paste on their foreheads, Christian children with crosses around their necks, and Muslim children in hijabs or skullcaps—all in school uniforms, walking together. It is a beautiful, ordinary sight. And it has been this way for centuries.
This harmony has been noted by Jewish, Arab, and European travelers for over a thousand years. Before the Portuguese arrived, even a thriving Chinese Buddhist community existed along the Kalvathy River. The native population of Cochin today carries the physiognomic legacy of Arab, Jewish, Portuguese, and Dutch ancestors—more so than the Dravidian features found inland.
Ritual and Spirituality
The people of Cochin are deeply religious. I was surprised to find a church service full of congregants at 7 a.m. on a weekday—a rare sight in the West. The region is dotted with mosques. The older ones are understated and blend in; the newer ones, built with funds from Saudi Arabia, feature minarets and domes that rise incongruously amid palm trees and banana plants.
As someone who works closely with Native peoples of the Americas, I find an interesting contrast. Among them, spirituality is not tied to texts, clergy, or religious buildings. It centers on connection to the natural world—trees, thunder, the moon. In Cochin, religion is expressed through devotion, ritual, and piety.
Yet there is a shared mythic consciousness. A Christian woman in Cochin once apologized to me for missing Sunday church—despite the fact that she attends church twice daily. Her sincerity reminded me of my Native American friends who describe the sacredness of a river or the blooming of a flower. In both cases, the connection to something larger than oneself—whether called “God” or “the universe”—is palpable.
Living Monuments of Interfaith Harmony
Kappiri Muthappan: The African Spirit Guardian
Two sites in Fort Cochin exemplify the region’s interfaith amity: the shrine of Kappiri Muthappan and the tomb of Nehamia Mutta.
At both places, people from all faiths come to pray, light candles, offer flowers—and in the case of Kappiri Muthappan, even offer toddy (palm wine) or cigarettes.
“Kappiri” is derived from the Portuguese word Cafre, meaning a Black African man. Legend holds that when the Portuguese retreated, they buried some of their African slaves alive along with their treasure, hoping the spirits would guard it until their return. Kappiri is said to live in mango trees and is fond of arrack and cigars.
There are areas in Mattancherry called Kappiri Mathil—“Kappiri’s Wall”—believed to be places where the spirit rests. His shrine is simple: just a raised platform, no deity or idol. Yet it has become a revered space for people of all faiths.
Nehami Mutta: A Jewish Sage Venerated by All
A short walk from Jew Street, beyond the tourist paths, lies a quieter residential area. There stands the tomb of Rav Nehamia ben Avraham, a Yemeni Jewish scholar who migrated to Cochin and died in 1616.
The site, once part of the Black Jewish cemetery, was entrusted to a local Christian family after most Cochin Jews emigrated to Israel in the 1950s. The family keeps it clean and whitewashed, as promised.
Today, people of all backgrounds—Christians, Muslims, Hindus—visit the tomb to offer prayers. I lit Shabbat candles there, said prayers for friends scattered across the world, and felt privileged to do so.
Translation of the Tombstone
(Courtesy of the late Itzhak Hallegua of Cochin)
Here rests the Kabbalist and venerable sage,
Who emanated the light of his knowledge
And shines throughout the Jewish diaspora.
He is the perfect wise man,
A righteous soul of divine connection,
Rav and teacher—
Nehemia, son of the Rav and teacher, the wise and beloved
Abraham Muta (elder), of blessed and saintly memory.
He passed from this life on Sunday, 28th Kislev,
In the year of creation 5376 (1616 AD).
The fact that Kappiri was Christian and Nehamia Mutta was Jewish does not matter to the devotees. They come in search of grace, comfort, and healing—regardless of origin.
Historic Mosques and Jewish Generosity
In her book The Mosques of Cochin, Patricia Fels documents the Kerala-style architecture of the region’s mosques. One such mosque is the Chembitta Palli, also known as the Kochangadi Juma Masjid.
My friend Mr. N told me a remarkable story about its founding: A Jewish merchant was so impressed by the wisdom of Sayyid Fakhr Bukhari, the mosque’s spiritual leader, that he donated all the timber for its construction.
Such stories are not anomalies—they are part of the cultural DNA of Cochin.
Enduring Friendship Across Faiths
Even today, in an era of rising global polarization, the interfaith bonds of Cochin remain intact. I have met young Cochin Muslims working in Salalah, Muscat, and Doha. Though exposed to the modern political discourse of the Arab world, they retain a deep respect for people of other religions—an inheritance from their homeland’s traditions.
I came across a video online titled Faces of Cochin. It features locals with a range of appearances—Dravidian, Arab, European—a testament to centuries of migration, intermarriage, and peaceful coexistence.
This, too, is Cochin: a living mosaic of faith, culture, and shared humanity.
