This is where it’s still happening. Kochi is one of India’s major ports. It is home to an international airport; home, also, to the only Indian shipyard that is part of a city; and it is home to the headquarters of the Indian Navy’s Southern Command. More importantly for insatiable travelers, it has loads to offer: a fascinating history (of which many remnants are still to be seen), a rich cultural heritage, lots of natural beauty, and an almost-addictive local cuisine, rich in seafood and spices.

Orientation and getting around: Kochi spreads across three main areas: two islands and the mainland. The easternmost part of the city, which lies on the mainland, consists of the twin cities of Ernakulam and Kochi. This is the modern, commercial part of Kochi—there are malls here, large markets, major hotels, government and private offices, and the massive Cochin Shipyard, which dominates the seafront.

To the west of Ernakulam and mainland Kochi lies a stretch of water known as Vembanadu (or Vembanad) Lake, one of India’s largest lakes. Kochi forms Vembanadu’s link to the Arabian Sea, so this stretch of water is really part-sea, part-freshwater. A bridge (and a ferry) here connects the mainland to the nearest island to the west, Willingdon Island. Willingdon is mostly given over to the navy, and there’s little here for the tourist. Further east—and connected to Willingdon, both by bridge and ferry—is the island on which Fort Cochin sits. This is the touristic centre of Kochi, and where you’re likely to be spending much of your time.

Between Fort Cochin, Willingdon, and Ernakulam, you can travel by ferry, bus, taxi or autorickshaw—all are easily available. While taxis charge up to about Rs 3,500 for a full day’s hire, autorickshaws are a cheaper way of travelling over longish distances—we spent only Rs 70 for an hour’s drive around Fort Cochin and the Jew Town area, including waiting time.

Within Fort Cochin, walking is the best option: there are sights to see every few metres, and it’s a usually pedestrian-friendly area of quiet tree-lined lanes.

Must-sees and must-dos: Most of Kochi’s best attractions are historic, and clustered in and around Fort Cochin. The Chinese Fishing Nets, huge cantilevered nets that were originally set up by traders from the court of Kublai Khan, are the most visible sights along the sea front. A few minutes’ walk from here will bring you to St Francis’s Church, the oldest European-built Church in India—and the place where Vasco da Gama was briefly interred before his remains were taken back to Europe by his son. Near the church is the Dutch Cemetery, and nearby, the Bishop’s House, within the grounds of which is the fascinating Indo-Portuguese Museum. Further east, and towards the north, lies Kochi’s other major cathedral, the Catholic Santa Cruz Basilica, originally dating back to the 16th century, though the present building is an upstart, barely a hundred years old.

All of these areas can be covered in a single walk, with perhaps a stop for refreshments at one of the many tea- and coffee-shops on the atmospheric

Princess Street, lined with lovely old colonial buildings. While you’re in the vicinity, do make it a point to visit the Cochin Cultural Centre, which hosts a daily hour-long Kathakali performance.

Further out (and it’s advisable to take an auto or taxi), but also on the same island, is Jew Town, home to Kochi’s Paradesi Synagogue, a beautifully restored old synagogue that is worth a visit. Nearby is a large Spice Market (and lots of smaller retail shops where you can buy a range of Keralan spices, including some, like the large glossy seeds known as ‘massaging seeds’) that aren’t really known outside of Kerala). Also within close range is the Mattancherry Dutch Palace, built by the Dutch for the king of Kochi and now converted into a museum.

Further out, on the mainland, are other attractions. The Kerala Folklore and Theatre Museum, in Ernakulam, is an amazing (even if very jumbled!) storehouse of artefacts from not just Kerala, but also other parts of South India. Also in Ernakulam is the Thripunithura Hill Palace Museum—this one, sadly, was closed on the one day we had some hours free to see it, so we missed it. It was highly recommended by some of the people we met, so we’ll make it a point to include it in our itinerary the next time we’re in Kerala.

Further out from Ernakulam, you should certainly go on a cruise along the green, beautiful, and serene backwaters of Kerala: cruises range from a half-day tour to tours of a couple of days, where you live on a traditional Kerala houseboat known as a kettuvallom. Beyond the backwaters, and on the mainland, are two lovely little places for getting a closer look at Kerala’s wildlife: the Thattekad Bird Sanctuary, which is one of India’s richest reserves of avifauna; and the Kodanadu Elephant Training Camp, where the Forest Department trains elephants for its work in the forests—this is an especially delightful place to see elephants (particularly the adorable calves!) at close quarters.

Eating out: If you like seafood (and more so if you like your seafood spicy!), Kochi is one of those cities that will warm the cockles of your heart. Fish, crabs, prawn, mussels and squid are among the popular items on local restaurant menus, and recipes run the gamut from the thoroughly traditional to the interestingly modern fusion meals that combine local Malabar food with Western influences. Also, since Kochi has long been a melting pot of different cultures and religions (including the Syrian Christian community, the Jews, and the Muslims), even the local cuisine isn’t completely homogenous.

For more details, read my journals on my favourite places to eat in Kochi, and some other restaurants that we dined at, but didn’t like as much.

The royal family, having set up house in Kochi, soon found visitors arriving at their doorsteps: the Portuguese came in 1500. The Raja of Kochi allowed them to trade, and to establish factors in Kochi—eventually leading to the Rajas of Kochi becoming vassals of the Portuguese, and later, of the Dutch who replaced the Portuguese in 1663.

In 1555, as a gesture of their cordial relations with the royalty of Kochi, the Portuguese built a palace at Mattancherry (somewhat east of Fort Cochin, on the same island) for Raja Vira Kerala Verma. This was (much later) repaired by the Dutch, and came to be known as the Mattancherry Dutch Palace. The palace is today home to an archaeological museum, which focuses mainly on the history of the royals of Kochi.

According to the sign outside, the "palace is constructed in the form of a nalukettu (quadrilateral structure", with "wooden coffered ceilings and mezzanine flower arrangements" (we couldn’t quite figure out what was meant by the latter—carved flowers, I expect). Except for some sparingly carved wood and stone, the building looks almost Spartan on the outside, with its double-storied, cream-painted walls, tiled roofs, and wooden-leaved windows. It’s set in a large grassy yard, with trees—mango and casuarina among them—around the palace. Opposite the palace building, and within the grounds, is a temple to a local deity.

Having bought our entry tickets, we went up the staircase (no lifts or escalators here, unfortunately) and entered the museum, which spreads across a series of interconnected rooms. The museum is, in the main, a history of the Rajas of Kochi: long, detailed (and rather dull) biographies of each of them, interspersed with genealogies, important achievements, decorations, wars fought, treaties made, and so on. After reading a few of these panels (all are written in three languages: Malayalam, Hindi, and English), we began to get pretty bored.

Some, however, were interesting. These included sections on clothing, hairstyles, and jewellery (which included antique specimens which once belonged to the royal family, as well as lots of old photographs showing royalty in their regalia). Among my other favourites was a brief section on the spread of Western education: the highlight of this was a delightful photo of three of the princesses of Kochi, in an early 20th century photo, posing after graduation, all three of them proudly holding up their bachelor’s degree certificates!

Also included in the collection at the museum are displays of traditional palanquins, weapons, utensils, stamps issued by Kochi, and coins.

For us, the most awe-inspiring aspect of the museum was not its collection but the murals that decorate the walls of a couple of the rooms here. These depict the Hindu epic, the Ramayana almost in its entirety, as well as scenes from the life of the Hindu deity Krishna. The murals are painted in vivid reds, greens, and orange, are very intricate, and completely cover the walls of two of the rooms (one near the entrance of the museum, the other near its exit). As far as we were concerned, these murals more than made up for the rather dull sections of the museum.

Entry tickets to the museum cost Rs 5 per person. No photography is allowed inside.

The Paradesi Synagogue is about 4 km from where we were staying in Fort Cochin, we decided to take an autorickshaw instead of walking all the way. The auto driver dropped us off at the head of Synagogue Lane (which has some interesting little shops selling spices and tea). We walked a hundred metres or so, down to the white-painted synagogue with its distinctive little clock tower, at the end of the lane.

The synagogue has recently undergone a restoration project under the aegis of the World Monuments Fund, in conjunction with the National Culture Fund and the Jewish community of Kochi. A weather-beaten signboard to this effect stands outside the synagogue and provides very basic information about the synagogue: that it was built (by the descendants of European Jews, including Dutch and Portuguese Jews) in 1568. The clock tower is a later addition to the synagogue, having been constructed only in 1760.

Beyond the entrance to the synagogue is a small, rather dingy little office, where we bought our tickets. On the right of this office is a slightly larger (but still fairly cramped) room which serves as a sort of chronicle of the Jewish presence in Kochi (more on this later); outside the office, and separated from it by a narrow strip of open ground, is the synagogue itself.

We took off our shoes (as is compulsory) outside the synagogue, and stepped in. The interior of the synagogue is striking: on either side, tall wide windows let in lots of natural light, and the floor is covered with blue-painted ceramic tiles. (These, we later discovered, are of special interest in themselves: there are 11,000 of these tiles—especially brought in 1762 all the way from Canton, and no two tiles have the same pattern. Each is unique). A variety of lamps and chandeliers hang from the ceiling; the lamps, crafted from glass and silver, were made in Kochi itself, 300 years ago; the chandeliers were brought from Belgium 100 years ago.

Approximately in the centre of this modest-sized hall is the pulpit, surrounded by a brass railing and standing on a low, circular platform. At the far end of the hall, facing the door, is the curtained altar. On either side of these are two pairs of old stone tablets. One pair is inscribed with prayers. On the other pair of tablets are inscribed the first two letters (in Hebrew) of each of the Ten Commandments—supposedly the oldest such inscription in the world.

After emerging from the synagogue, we stepped back to the office, and from there into the little gallery that describes the history of the Jews in Kochi. This is depicted through a series of paintings (executed recently, and not, seemingly, by an artist of any great talent). The paintings are chronologically arranged, and each shows a scene from history, along with a fairly detailed description—in English and Malayalam—of what it’s supposed to represent. The first Jews arrived in Kerala in 72 AD, landing at Cranganore (Kodungallur in Malayalam, Shingly in Hebrew). About 300 years later, in 379 AD, the local ruler bestowed the title of ‘Prince of Anjuvanam’ on a prominent member of the Jewish community. The community continued to prosper, though it suffered a serious blow in 1524 AD, when the Moors attacked and the Jewish kingdom was destroyed.

Alongside the ‘linear’ history narrated through these paintings, there are interesting bits of trivia: for instance, the Old Testament Scrolls kept (but not displayed) at the Paradesi Synagogue are supposed to be the oldest in the world. Also kept (and again, not on display) are the two copper plates on which were inscribed the rights granted to the Jewish community of Kochi by the raja, conferring on the them ranks equivalent to those of the mid-rung Portuguese gentry then in control of Kochi.

The synagogue was once also home to two silver trumpets, of the set originally used at the Second Temple in Jerusalem. These two trumpets were, unfortunately, destroyed in a skirmish between two zealous but careless groups of people, each vying to be given the right to blow the trumpets.

Also part of this tiny but very informative gallery are dedications to two important Jews. One is Samuel Sabatai ‘Satu’ Koder (the man whose residence, Koder House, is now a hotel, and home to a restaurant where you can actually order a Kochi Jewish meal). Koder was, for many years, the warden of the Paradesi Synagogue, and a plaque to his memory is still here.

The other important Kochi Jew you’ll see mention of here (and a portrait) was Ezikal Rahabi; Rahabi was the man who brought the Cantonese tiles that decorate the floor of the synagogue. He also built, around the same time, the clock tower of the synagogue. The clock tower originally had four faces, one each in Hebrew, Malayalam, Roman and Arabic numerals; the last—in Arabic numerals—was later bricked up.

The Paradesi Synagogue is closed on Saturdays and Sundays. The rest of the week, it closes at noon. Entry fees are Rs 5 per person; no photography is allowed within the synagogue. Please make sure you’re appropriately dressed.

If you’re walking from the Chinese Fishing Nets, passing St Francis’s Church, you walk down towards the Bishop’s House, which nestles on a slight rise, in a garden full of mussanda loaded with peachy-pink blooms; bougainvillea; palm trees—and a life-size painted plaster statue of Christ with an infant in his arms. Within the extensive grounds of the Bishop’s House is the Indo-Portuguese Museum. This was established by the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation (Lisbon) in 2000, and is aimed towards (according to the plaque near the entrance to the museum) "Towards the preservation of Indo-Portuguese heritage in India".

We had arrived at the museum at about 10.30 in the morning, shortly after it had opened for the day. As it happened, we were the only people in the museum at the time. The person who doubled as ticket-seller and docent was a very neat, gentle and friendly young man named Joseph. He sold us the entry tickets for the museum and let us know that while we could take photographs in the basement section of the museum, no photography is permitted elsewhere in the building.

Having bought our tickets, we went down the staircase to the basement—and were rather surprised, because as it turned out, this wasn’t a gallery full of artefacts: it looked like the foundations of a building. Joseph, who seemed to be free since no-one else was around, came downstairs a couple of minutes later, and told us what this was: the excavations of part of the original ‘Fort Cochin’. The Portuguese, he added, had arrived in Kochi in 1500 AD (Vasco da Gama having made landfall at Calicut in 1498). Since the Portuguese had been granted padroado in the East in the 16th century, they swiftly set about building churches in Kochi; the first one, made of wood, was on the site of what is today known as St Francis’s Church.

Simultaneously, the Portuguese also built a stockade, also of wood and bamboo, later (after a treaty with the local ruler of Kochi) strengthened and made into a citadel of masonry. When the Indo-Portuguese Museum was being built on this site, excavations to lay the foundations of the building revealed the remnants of that original fortress. Joseph pointed out to us the tops of the old walls, including the top of an arched doorway.

Having seen this section—there’s really not much here, sadly, in the way of labeling or explanations about what this is, so if Joseph hadn’t come downstairs, we might never have realized what we were seeing—we headed upstairs. The actual collection of the Indo-Portuguese Museum spreads across several interconnected rooms on the ground floor. Joseph went off to sell tickets to a couple of visitors who’d just arrived, so we began to have a look at the exhibits on our own. As it was downstairs, so it is upstairs: the labeling is rather inadequate. True, each exhibit does have a basic description and time period ("wooden candlesticks, 17th century", as an example), but it doesn’t go into more detail.

On display here are dozens of items, beginning from the 17th century, collected from churches across Kochi. Joseph, who got free in the middle of our round of the museum, came over and told us that when the Dutch conquered Kochi in 1663, they destroyed 31 buildings constructed by the Portuguese; Santa Cruz and St Francis’s were the only two that were spared, and were converted from Catholic places of worship to Protestant. The Dutch had no use for the ornate decorations that had been part of these churches during Portuguese rule, so proclamations were made, informing the Catholic population of Kochi to take whatever they wished from the churches. The decorations, therefore, spread out to different churches across the city—and these, brought back now to a centralized location, are what form the collection at the Indo-Portuguese Museum.

Neatly arranged in glass display cases across the museum are the exhibits: exquisite old missals and prayer books, painted wooden statues of the Madonna and various saints (especially St Sebastian ad St Francis of Assisi), monstrances (highly decorated vessels used to display the Eucharist during its benediction), and all the paraphernalia associated with processions: banners, processionals, and even parasols. The parasols, Joseph informed us, are an interesting borrowing from Hindu tradition, where a king (or, in a religious procession, the idol) is shielded from the elements by having a large and ornate parasol overhead. To depict this usage in modern-day Catholic processions in Kerala, there’s a large photograph of a local procession, showing the crucifix, the statues—and the parasol.

Also on display are ballot boxes, chasubles, stoles, and other vestments, mostly from the 19th and 20th centuries. There are some interesting little odds and ends, too. One that we found very intriguing was a chalice, its exterior decorated with oval cameo-like pieces of enamel, each depicting a particular element of the Passion: three nails; the torn garments of Christ; the thongs used to whip him; and so on—about a dozen different elements in all.

Another especially interesting artifact was an old, very ornate and very large iron lock for a door. Joseph explained that this was a Kochi antique that represented the harmony between different religions in Kochi. He pointed out different religious symbols built into the intricate craftsmanship of the lock: a crucifix, a crescent moon (to represent Islam), a trident (for Hinduism) and seven candle-like projections that represent a Jewish menorah.

Pride of place in the museum is held by a beautiful teak wood altarpiece. Joseph explained that when the Dutch took over St Francis’s Church, this altarpiece was one of the decorations that was taken away from the church by local Catholics to keep it safe. Today, decorated with equally old (but not from St Francis’s) painted wood candlesticks and wooden representations of vases filled with flowers—the latter an attractive and interesting way of decorating an altar with ‘flowers’ that lasted for years!

The façade of the altar contains a tabernacle, its lid decorated with a painting of two crossed arms—one being Christ’s, the other (also showing stigmata) that of St Francis of Assisi. Joseph also explained to us that most Indians tend to associate ‘St Francis’ with St Francis Xavier, who had been very successful as a missionary in 16th century India and is still highly venerated. The ‘St Francis’ of Kochi—after whom St Francis’s Church is named, too—is, however, St Francis of Assisi.

The Indo-Portuguese Museum is a modest size; even if you loiter over its exhibits, you probably won’t spend more than an hour here. But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in the charm and historicity of its exhibits. It’s well-maintained, clean, well-lit, and generally very pleasant. My only quibble would be with the inadequate labeling—but with someone like Joseph around to explain things, that ended up not really mattering.

The museum is open Tuesday to Sunday, 10 AM to 5 PM. Entry tickets are Rs 10 per person. Photography is allowed only in the basement, where the excavations of the fort can be seen.

We had been keen on watching a Kathakali performance, and knew that daily performances are held for the benefit of visitors at a number of venues, both in Ernakulam as well as Fort Cochin. We didn’t know which one to opt for, though—until the cab driver who took us on our day trip to Thattekad Bird Sanctuary, driving us back into Fort Cochin at the end of the day, asked, "Have you seen a Kathakali performance yet?" We admitted we hadn’t, but wanted to—and said that we’d noticed a Kathakali performance being advertised outside an auditorium near the jetty. "No, don’t go there," Thomas said. "It’s very new, and I doubt if their dancers are well-trained enough yet. I’ll take you to the best place around. Their dancers are very experienced, well-respected men, and it’s right next door to your hotel too, so you won’t have a problem getting there on your own in time for the performance".

Since seats for Kathakali performances often sell out well in advance of the show, Thomas suggested he stop by on the way, so that we could see where the venue—the Cochin Cultural Centre—is located (diagonally opposite the Chinese Fishing Nets, down a narrow lane near the Seagull Hotel). "When you buy your tickets, ask them to give you seats at the front," Thomas advised us.

The Cochin Cultural Centre, for all its impressive name, turned out to be a fairly modestly-sized establishment, the public areas consisting of a small room that acted as a ticket counter, leading into a larger hall, with chairs arranged in rows in front of a small stage. The man at the ticket counter sold us the tickets and said (in response to our request to be given seats near the stage), "This is off-season. There won’t be many people. All of you will be right in front of the stage".

He was right; when we came back to the centre that evening at about 5.30 PM, there were only about ten other people sitting in the hall; another dozen (perhaps less) joined us within the next half-hour, before the performance began.

Although the actual dance performance was scheduled to start at 6 PM, the artistes spend a good 45 minutes or so donning the intricate makeup that’s needed for Kathakali. This has become a major part of the Kathakali experience, so the performers—instead of locking themselves into their green rooms for their makeup—do it onstage. When we arrived, both dancers were on the stage, one sitting cross-legged on the floor, the other lying down, with his head near the feet of the seated dancer, who was carefully and skillfully painting the other man’s face—a glossy bright green, a rather fluorescent yellow, and with exaggerated black streaks around the eyes.

(During the course of the introduction to Kathakali—just before the performance began—the compere explained that Kathakali uses specific colours for makeup to denote specific characters. Green face-paint, for example, indicates a noble and good character; red denotes someone who is evil and powerful. Black is used to indicate a denizen of a forest—animals, hunters, and demons. ‘Sandalwood colour’ (au naturel) is used to represent a female character).

After the dancers had donned their makeup, they slipped backstage to put on their costumes, and the compere arrived, to give us an introduction to this performing art. He said that Kathakali has been performed for the past 400-500 years now, and a traditional performance goes on throughout the night: 12 hours is the usual length. The dancers aren’t merely dancers, but actors too, since they tell a story using a series of gestures and movements. However, unlike most theatre, Kathakali does not involve any vocalisations—dialogue or song—from the dancers/actors. Music (both instrumental—especially in the form of drums—and vocal, rendered by a singer) accompanies the performance.

After this very brief introduction, one of the dancers—now partly clothed in a shimmering red brocade costume—a long dhoti-like piece covering his legs, and a stole around his shoulders and hanging down to his waist—came onstage. With commentary provided by the compere, this dancer proceeded to give a demonstration of the basic gestures and expressions used in Kathakali.

One of the most interesting parts of this demo was when the dancer seated himself, and showed—primarily through facial expressions—the navrasas (or nine emotions) that help tell a story. I’m no stranger to the navrasas, since they are extensively used in varied art forms, all the way from dance and theatre to cinema and painting, in India. But seeing the way this dancer used his eyes, mouth, cheeks, eyebrows—in fact, all of his very mobile face—to depict love, anger, contempt, pity, etc, was quite fascinating. Click the following link to see my video recording of part of this demonstration.

This was followed by a dance demo, which involved the depiction of familiar scenes in Kathakali: a garden, for instance, with flowers blooming and bees buzzing about; or a lake, with lotuses on the surface and fish below.

Finally, with half an hour remaining, it was time for the main performance of the evening. This, we knew (thanks to a printed sheet of paper handed over to each member of the audience), was a scene from the story Narakasuravadham. While the dancers had been getting ready, we’d read what the story was about: a demoness sees Jayantha, a noble prince, and lusts after him. Realizing she hasn’t a chance of obtaining him in her actual form, she disguises herself as a beautiful woman and sets out to woo him. Jayantha is equally enchanted—totally unaware of his beloved’s reality—and agrees to marry her, but only after his father’s agreed to the match. The demoness, who can’t contain herself that long (when you get the hots, you get the hots)—tries so hard to persuade Jayantha that he becomes suspicious, pulls out his sword, and lops off her ears, nose and breasts—and discovers who she really is!

For the benefit of the audience, the compere did give the gist of the story before the dancers came on again. The performance started on a dimly-lit stage, with two helpers holding up a large padded silk ‘curtain’ and then whipping it away when the music began, to reveal the two dancers—the demoness and Jayantha.

This wasn’t a complicated story, and since we’d been told what it was, it wasn’t difficult to follow what was happening onstage. Both dancers were very good, and it was a riveting performance. (You can watch a brief clip of it, here, in a
video I recorded). What I also appreciated was that it was just the right length: enough to make sense and give us a feel of Kathakali, but not long enough to bore people who may not be extremely enthusiastic about learning more.

Tickets for the Kathakali performance cost Rs 250 per person. The auditorium is an air-conditioned one, and quite comfortable. At the end of the show, you are encouraged to provide a donation for the centre—mostly towards the welfare of the artistes themselves—but it’s up to you whether you want to put something in the box near the door or not.

The Santa Cruz Basilica dates back to the early 16th century, shortly after the Portuguese first arrived in Kochi. In 1505, the first Portuguese viceroy in Kochi, Dom Francisco de Almeida, obtained what seems to have been grudging permission from the local ruler to build a church in the fort area. The foundation stone was laid on the feast day of the ‘Invention of the Holy Cross’, which was why the church was named santa cruz: the ‘holy cross’.

Santa Cruz saw many ups and downs: the first century was good, what with its stature being elevated to that of a cathedral in 1558, when the diocese of Cochin was founded. Just over a hundred years later (in 1663), however, the Dutch conquered Kochi, and systematically set about destroying almost all Catholic buildings in the area. Santa Cruz and St Francis’s Church were spared, though Santa Cruz was converted into an armoury. The building was finally destroyed by the British, when they took over Kochi from the Dutch in 1795 (one granite pillar, from the original church, still remains and supposedly stands within the basilica—we didn’t know about this until after our Kochi trip was over).

The British did make amends about a hundred years later, by allowing the rebuilding of the church. Construction began in 1887, and the completed church was consecrated in 1902. In 1984, it was declared a basilica.

Inside, Santa Cruz is impressive, but in a fussy, over-ornamented sort of way. The ceiling, made of white-painted wood, slopes away from a series of large square paintings depicting the stations of the Cross. Flanking the pews, between the windows on either side, are large semi-circular arches with a simple but attractive mosaic in mustard yellow, pale greyish-green, and white. There is much painted and incised plaster at the high altar, and the crucifix that hangs above it is backlit. And, littered all across the inside of the church, in almost every available nook and cranny, is some depiction or the other of Jesus—there are paintings, sketches, statues, and more, all very eclectic when it comes to style. Some (the minority) are good; the majority are gaudy and badly designed, which means that it’s all rather a hotchpotch.

We spent only about ten minutes—possibly a little less—inside the basilica, because a film (television? We couldn’t tell) crew was inside, and had rigged up wires and lighting all over the place, rather lessening the attractiveness of the church. Other than us, there were a few other visitors around, but these too seemed to mostly be tourists rather than people who’d come specifically to worship.

The Santa Cruz Basilica is closed on Mondays; tourists are allowed inside from 9 AM to 5 PM, Tuesday to Saturday, and from 10.30 AM to 1 PM on Sunday, after mass is over. According to a notice near the door, visitors are expected to remove footwear outside the church; cell phones aren’t allowed inside; and an entry fee is charged. Either this is outdated information, or the filming in progress on the day we visited had sent everything haywire, because there was nobody around—and no designated counter—to sell entry tickets. Also, nobody took off their shoes. Do check before you go in, though; this may have been a one-off instance. At any rate, please do make sure you’re suitably dressed—no shorts, tank tops, etc.

Not really; European missionaries had arrived well before—by the land route, and by the sea route from Arabia, coming all the way from France and Armenia to ‘bring salvation to the heathen’. Even earlier than them—and this might surprise many—Christianity, in its earliest form, had been brought to India by St Thomas (‘Doubting Thomas’), who baptized the first Indian Christians, forming the Syrian Christian Church.

To most people, though, Christianity in India is synonymous with European missionaries, and that’s where Kochi’s St Francis’s Church is a major landmark—because this is the site of the first church built by Europeans in India.

In 1498, Vasco da Gama had arrived in Calicut (present-day Kozhikode); two years later, in 100, the Portuguese Admiral Pedro Álvares Cabral landed in Kochi and was welcomed by the local ruler. By 1503, the Portuguese, under Afonso de Albuquerque were given the right to erect a fort at Kochi; the structure they built was Fort Manuel, a temporary citadel of mud and bamboo. As part of the fort, a wooden church—St Bartholomew’s—was built.

The church was later rebuilt in stone, and a tiled roof added. By 1516, the Franciscans had taken over the church and rebuilt it, naming it after St Anthony. The 1516 church is the one that still stands here, and what is today known as St Francis’s. The Conventional Church of the Order of St Francis of Assisi (as it was known between 1610 and 1633) remained Kochi’s major church during the Portuguese presence in Kochi.

In 1663, with the arrival of the Dutch in Kochi—and the departure of the Portuguese—this church was stripped of its Catholic trappings, and has remained staunchly Protestant ever since. When the British ousted the Dutch and took over in 1795, the Dutch were allowed to retain the church—but handed it over, on their own, in 1804. By 1819, the church had become an Anglican one, and after it was restored and renovated in 1886-87, the name was changed to St Francis’s, after the saint from Assisi. The church is today part of the Church of South India (CSI).

St Francis’s cream-painted plastered exterior does show its unmistakable Portuguese origins, with a little arched belfry, a bell-like curve to the façade, and a semi-circular arched entrance. Inside, though, it’s just as obviously an austere Protestant church, with none of the flamboyant paintings and fussy decorations we’d seen in Santa Cruz Basilica. From the pillared, wood-ceilinged porch, a set of semi-circular arches lead into the main body of the church. The ceiling here is of dark wood, high and vaulted so that it looks similar to the hull of a boat. The walls are cream-painted, and pierced by wide-arched windows on both the ground floor and the upper (where the choir loft is located).

One of the quaintest things about the church is the presence of long cloth punkhas above the pews. These were common in British days when electric fans were unknown, but are almost never seen in India nowadays. The punkhas in St Francis’s are pretty well-maintained, so may actually be in use—we weren’t able to confirm that.

The floor of the church is covered with red-cream-and-black patterned tiles, from the 19th century, when the British renovated the church. Originally, the floor of the nave also included the tombstones of prominent Dutch residents of Kochi. These, for the sake of conservation, have been removed from the floor and put up on the northern and southern walls of the church. Although (since neither of us knows Dutch) we couldn’t decipher these, the coats of arms and heraldic emblems on some of the tombstones were interesting, nevertheless. The earliest Dutch epitaph here dates back to 1664, while the earliest Portuguese one is from 1562.

The pride and joy of St Francis’s Church, however, is a rectangular section, marked off by a low wood-and-brass railing, near one of the windows. The sign above it says it all: Vasco da Gama Tomb. Yes, Vasco da Gama, on his third trip to India, died in Kochi on December 23, 1524, and was buried here. His body remained here for more than a decade; his son bringing it back to Portugal—where the remains were finally interred—only in 1538.

St Francis’s Church is open to visitors between 2.30 PM and 5 PM on weekdays. No entry fee is charged, but all footwear must be removed in the porch. Once you’ve finished seeing the church, a short walk down the road will bring you to the Dutch Cemetery, which is also part of the Church of South India. This is a small cemetery, very quiet and with a number of plastered gravestones standing beyond the palm trees that frame the gate. Unfortunately, the gate was locked the day we visited, but since it’s so close to St Francis’s, we didn’t really mind the short if fruitless walk to and from the cemetery.