The Voice of Fort Cochin

 I recollect the famous O Henry story “Voice of the city”….. Dose the city converse to its people? . Perhaps true;  It can be cited from my last trip to Fort Cochin. Every city would have its own stories to say. From the bustling voice of the crowds, may be vivid or diverse  it could  narrate  certain untold stories. Last visit in Fort Cochin was a cherished experience; particularly the sort of people I came across and the friendship I made, grief I felt, the anguish I saw in the eyes .I embarked at Fort Cochin in the morning, an old scruffy building with arched windows invited me near the ferry. It was the month of a peak tourist season; Tourists were swarming all over the roads, speckled sounds, dissimilar idioms few were absolutely strange, joyful faces were all around me. 

                                                            

Fort Cochin is a small island, one of the famous tourist and historical spot in the Queen of Arabian Sea. It has a unique and distinct ambiance and warm welcoming atmosphere. While sitting in the ferry, towards the journey from Cochin we would see the nestling chines fishing nets on the shores, reminding the contribution of the Chinese merchants. Dating back to the history of early 14^th century, with whom India had an ancient trade relation. The voice of these fishing nets would be reminding a harmonious past existed with our neighbor that deteriorating in the present political circumstances. Might be too political to think this way. I continued my walk toward the shore, tourists were all over . Everyone were busy in their own world. My eyes wedged at Lampy, I  need to clarify that, I met her near the shore, she had  smiley face, in the wind her  lashing  hairs were annoyingly falling to her forehead .  “Hola” I said, but she replied Bonjoure. My spontaneous reply of Bonjour continued by “Ca Va” made her eyes wide open, her curious eyes communicated  the rest.I gave a little surprise to her, I realized that . It was quiet sudden and astonishing fact that we both became friends so promptly and the voice of amity with blend of trust might drove both of us in to it.   

On the way we came across the small Bob Marley café that would attract all its visitors. It would rather proclaim the multicultural ambience of this small town. As I have read in a national weekly about the Bob Marley fest being conducted at this place from years. The great Reggae singer and willful revolutionist, sonnets of his songs were in the air, rhythmic voice which intermingled with smoke of marijuana, the real ecstasy to dip in. I heard the voice of Marley.

A few meters away from the Bob Marley café we would found the famous Dutch cemetery. It was closed and we saw the tombs thorough the rusty gate. Centuries old tombs are transformed in to a  pale and dark color but Duct inscriptions are fairly visible. Utter silence was penetrated in the air , voice of silence invaded us.104 tombs doted in front of me with three hundred years stories to say. These all tombs had a voice to discuss about the European prominence in the region, the mighty wars fought between the kings to establish the dominancy in the Indian Ocean.

The narrow and cleanly pavements with ancient Dutch edifices will take you in to the colonial era. The road led  us to the  famous St, Francis church, The ancient look and shabby painting of  St, Francis church will catch hold of your view. The voice of the church was conveying the architectural luminosity, and engineering brilliance of an ancient colonial construction. One the most ancient church in India built by Dutch people. Gothic style construction, stone paved flooring and humble furniture’s in the interiors can offer a more holly and sanctified intuition over there. The manual fan inside the church is one from the most interesting things I noticed, it is a long wooden beam attached with a stretched cloth and ropes coupled it on top to function. Tomb of Vasco de gama is the another attraction for the tourists, I saw one tourist guide, he was narrating its history meanwhile the tourists attentively listening his voice like school students.

 

Near the Jewish synagogue I met one old and elegant Jewish lady, she was occupied  in weaving a  Jewish caps and hardly gave a gaze to the flocks passed near ,  She was quiet silent and seemed very calm.But on the contrary I met “Yaheh Hallegua” near the Synagogue, the last  and youngest Jewish women at Paradesi synagogue. she had an argumentative story to describe.She is lively  and energetic, occupied as a ticket seller  at Synagogue. Her swift and  repulsive conversation created a petite confusion in me while demanding the entry tickets. I already had read an article about her, prior to my journey to Cochin. She is shouldering a heavy responsibility, that to give birth to a baby in order to sustain their generation. In fact she is not interested to marry. But I felt it is quiet natural for a person to take  decision for his/her own life, how can a community or a family could rule out an individuals own rights. Hers is an indigenous voice of liberty and determination of a girl.

 The antiques inside the synagogue were centuries old. The floor itself is a marveled canvas of hundreds of hand-painted Chinese porcelain tiles of  18^th century. Hebrew inscriptions could be found inside, the pulpit and chandeliers could remind a remote resemblance to the Christian churches. Inside the synagogue in front of Holy Torah Lampy explained me about her last journey to Cambodia, her eyes seemed soggy while explaining about the Cambodian massacre in Khmer Rouge era that dipped me in to an absolute silence. I barely heard any Voice around me, except the deadly silence of death. She explained those quiet emotionally and touchingly.

After a two days stay at fort cochin time had come to say adieu. Lampy accompanied me at the ferry and purchased ticket for me from the counter. She had to continue her trip towards other parts of the state. In the last moments I struggled to find the word to speak, tongue was disinclined to spell out a word, she was quiet silent. Last minute embrace was in fact painful, said Au revoir utterly to her. Liner had already departed from the station but my eyes were searching her at the coast, she already had left, … I said “Hola” and “au revoir” at the same shore. Now I can extract the real essence of the Voice of Fort cochin, it has a voice of silence rather more profound than any, it can immerse the visitor in to it's dunes of  silence .......………..