362 years and still waiting for their Masters..

Fort Cochin, with its cobblestone streets and colonial-era architecture, holds stories that transcend time. Among them is the tale of the Kappiri—a symbol of resilience, history, and remembrance.

During the Portuguese rule, enslaved Africans, locally called Kappiri, were brought to the Malabar Coast. These individuals lived through immense hardship, shaping the region’s history in ways often overlooked. When the Dutch seized Fort Cochin in 1663, folklore says that wealthy Portuguese buried their treasures underground. To protect these riches, they reportedly buried their loyal Kappiri guards alongside, tying their spirits to the land forever.

Far from being seen as ominous, the Kappiri are remembered with respect and even reverence. Small shrines, known as Kappiri Muthappan, still stand across Fort Cochin. Locals light candles at these shrines, honoring the memory of those who lived and suffered in a tumultuous era.

The story of the Kappiri isn’t just about loss—it’s about resilience and the deep layers of history that make Fort Cochin what it is today. It’s a reminder of the lives and cultures that shaped this land and the importance of acknowledging their stories.

Have you ever visited one of these shrines or heard about the Kappiri? 

The Echoes of Yesteryear: A Carnival through Time

Every year, Fort Cochin rings in the New Year’s Day with the rhythm of music, the colours of tradition, and the vibrant hum of over a hundred thousand people. Our beloved carnival isn’t just an event—it’s a celebration of the spirit of this town, a mosaic of history, culture, and shared joy.

But this year, the carnival arrived with a softer stride. Postponed to honour the passing of our honourable Ex-Prime Minister, Dr. Manmohan Singh, the day carried a solemnity that whispered through the streets.

I found myself sitting on the steps of a pharmacy at Kunnumpuram, waiting for the tableau to make its way as the evening grew long and the tropical winter coolness breezed in. Around me, the usual crowd was thinner, the buzz quieter, and the laughter more subdued. An elderly German couple was sitting beside me on the steps, the lady who was very enthusiastic about the events went out onto the road where the Carnival Procession was walking by and came back to her husband and told him very excitedly what she saw in their language. Her joy was contagious and made me nostalgically think about all those tourists who have been here from different countries on the New Year’s Day over the years.

 In the previous years the New Years day would make all the roads of our Old town lead to Fort Cochin, her narrow streets brimming with tourists, visitors and local residents their awe blending seamlessly with the exuberance of locals. The fragrance of freshly cooked delicacies, the burst of colourful energy from street performers, and the joy of togetherness all felt like distant echoes of a time gone by.

This year’s carnival wasn’t as lively, but perhaps it was a reminder—a gentle nudge to cherish the traditions that bind us and the memories that shape us. Even in its quieter form, not many years far from the shutdown nothingness of the Corona Years, the carnival held its charm, grounding me in a moment of reflection amidst the waiting crowd.

As the tableau finally came into view, its colours and music reminded me that while times change and moments pass, Fort Cochin’s heart beats steadily, carrying forward the legacy of countless New Year celebrations and the memories of folks who visited and those who lived here since Vasco Da Gama died  500 years ago  on the Christmas eve  of 1524.

The carnival may have been quieter this year, but its spirit endures—etched into the soul of this town and into the hearts of all who have walked these streets.