Whatever injustice has been done, should now be undone,” says Dr Mohammed Syed, president of the committee managing the Cheraman Juma Masjid. His words are not mere hyperbole. The mosque, located in Kodungallur in central Kerala, is considered to be at least a thousand years old. But instead of a period monument, visitors to the Juma Masjid are greeted by a cookie-cutter concrete structure with minarets and domes adapted from West Asia typical of the new mosques in the state. This injustice, as Dr Syed termed it, occurred in the 1970s when, flush with funds from West Asia, parts of the original structure were torn down to accommodate more worshippers, and what was left of the old mosque was concealed completely. But, in a remarkable turnaround, the mosque committee has announced that it will pull down the modern appendages, restore the facade to what it used to look like and build a prayer hall underground to house its expanded congregation. “We were apprehensive there would be opposition among the older members but, surprisingly, there was none!” says Faisal, the genial mosque administrator, who steps away from a marriage counseling session in the hall next to the mosque to talk about this change of heart. No less miraculous is the restoration of a chapel near the Kottapuram market, not too far from the mosque. When it was renovated in the ’80s, it adopted the bizarre geometric designs typical of that period, and was painted orange, to boot. But the chapel that now faces the waterfront is a simple, elegant structure with a traditional tiled roof, wooden door and window frames, and mild, off-white walls. Here, too, the decision to replace the new with the old was taken by the congregation. “Yes, there was criticism that we were knocking down a good concrete structure and that the old chapel had figures of St Antony and other saints. But it would have looked incongruous among other heritage buildings,” says VM Johnny, the local councilor. Reclaiming the Past These efforts are particularly surprising because this is a country where infrastructure projects are often held to ransom by nondescript shrines, mosques and chapels. The trigger here, the stakeholders acknowledge, is the Muziris Heritage Project taking shape around them. The mosque and chapel are just two of the structures that are being transformed as a result of this ambitious initiative, coming up in a 150 square km area in central Kerala, in Ernakulam and Thrissur districts. Muziris was an ancient port where traders from Greece, Egypt and Arabia would dock. Its exact location is a subject of debate — more on that later — but the port’s mouth was submerged in the mid-14th century by the flooding of the river Periyar, and Muziris subsequently declined in importance. Interest was sparked by excavations led by Kerala Council for Historical Research in Pattanam, around 35 km from Cochin, and Kodungallur, which found that Muziris may have been located there. The heritage and restoration project born out of this is the largest of its kind in the country, with a Rs 140 crore budget and funds from the state and central governments. “We began without any foundationlaying ceremony or fanfare. We wanted to do it quietly so that we could avoid controversies,” says conservation architect Benny Kuriakose, brought on board as project consultant by the previous finance minister Thomas Isaac, who was spearheading efforts. Kuriakose recalls telling the minister he would take two years to prepare the master plan. Isaac retorted that, if that was the case, his plan would sit on a shelf in a government office. He suggested Kuriakose should “start somewhere”. Accordingly, work began in 2008. The restoration of synagogues, mosques, temples, churches and markets in the area are part of the blueprint, as well as opening over 20 museums, of which five are already up and running. A hop-on, hop-off boat tour has just been launched which will take visitors to the sites through the canals and backwater channels, reminiscent of what was once upon a time the regular mode of travel here. What worked in their favour, says Kuriakose, was an effort to involve the local communities from the very beginning, avoiding legislation, which would have set alarm bells ringing, and a conscious attempt to conserve the intangible heritage of the area. “We have also avoided emphasizing the tourism aspect, which might alienate people. Instead, we hope lots of students will visit the sites,” says Kuriakose. “Hugely impressive” is how Sathya Prakash Varanashi, convenor of the Bengaluru chapter of Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage, describes the efforts. “Indian culture is not unidirectional and the formulation process of the Muziris project acknowledged that,” says Prakash. Another reason for its success, he believes, is the inclusion of multiple stakeholders, “from historians to mullahs to shopkeepers. It was very synthesised.” Perhaps because of all this, work on the heritage project has continued despite a change of guard in the state, with the United Democratic Front defeating the Communist-led Left Democratic Front that initiated it. First Impressions The project has not been officially inaugurated but where the restoration has been completed, the buildings have been thrown open to the public. The Paravur Synagogue is a fine example of the work that has been done. Stoop to enter through the low, arched doors and you find yourself transported to another time and culture. A short walk through a wide, open corridor flanked by pillars takes you to the main hall of worship, where replicas of the elaborately carved ark, where the Torah used to be kept, and the bimah, or the raised platform from where it was read, have been made as part of the restoration. The originals were taken away to Israel after the last prayer was held there in the 1970s by members of the community. There is a second bimah on the first floor for women, a feature exclusive to synagogues in Kerala. Giving you all this context and the history are detailed sign boards, flat-screen TVs with short documentaries about Jews in Kerala and certified guides to walk you through. Lijo Jose, who is employed at the museum, says previously he had to show visitors a dilapidated synagogue by asking them to crane their necks from the adjacent property. That’s a far cry from the spick-and-span heritage monument you would now see. “We’ve got 800 visitors so far, from the time it reopened last February,” says Jose. The restoration of the Paliam Palace Museum and Paliam Nalukettu Museum is equally impressive. The palaces, once used by the Paliath Achans who were diwans to the erstwhile Cochin royal family, used to be with a private trust which was persuaded to allow visitors as part of the heritage project. Here, too, there are trained guides to take you through the museum, short documentaries and thoughtfully written signs. The restoration work has been done carefully: for instance, while many of the wooden beams in the ceiling have been replaced, at least one original beam has been retained to give visitors an idea of what they used to look like. A Work in Progress But step out of the Paliam Palace, into the market nearby, and you realise that it has not always been smooth sailing for the Muziris Heritage Project. On one side of an adjacent maidan is a neat row of shuttered shops that have been restored, with wooden doors and a tiled roof. Facing these is a row of the type of shops we are familiar with, plastered with advertisements. Asked if he would consider allowing the project authorities to renovate his cycle repair shop, Praveen MP expresses scepticism. “It’s not that I have anything against the Muziris project but I heard that they will impose conditions that you cannot make any changes to the building, even if it is your own,” he says. It’s a similar story in Kottapuram Market, near the chapel, where the roofs of most of the shops were replaced with traditional tiles. Among the exceptions is Mohandas, whose family has been running the KRP Shenoy Sons store for 75 years. “The work they did is only decorative, and would not last lifelong, which is why I did not agree,” he says. On a wall near the beautified waterfront, an anonymous poster in Malayalam warns that a local trader has been destroying the new tiles and accuses the MLA and his representatives of being blind to this. Such outliers might eventually come around but more serious was a scathing attack mounted by former head of Indian Council for Historical Research, MGS Narayanan. In an article in a popular Malayalam weekly, he wrote that historical inaccuracies were being peddled in the name of Muziris, that there was no conclusive evidence yet that Muziris was in Pattanam and that Kerala’s indigenous heritage was being rejected in favour of a narrative around merchants who had come from abroad. Even the Euro-centric name of Muziris should be replaced with something like Mahodaya (as it was also known), he suggested. The charges were stoutly denied and the project defended by the local Congress MLAs but, considering Narayanan’s stature, they could not be brushed under the carpet. The list of the aggrieved also includes some of the local volunteers who had signed up to help document local traditions and lend a hand at excavation sites in the hope that this would translate into permanent jobs. “I signed up as a volunteer because I was promised a job at one of the museums once it was opened. But we were let go of as soon as the government changed,” says Nisha PS, a homemaker who worked as one of the 80 volunteers for two years, for an honorarium of Rs 1,000 a month. Though they add that they do not regret the experience itself, they would still like the jobs they were assured of. Yet, despite these niggles, the Muziris Heritage Project may serve as a model of conservation that could be emulated, as INTACH’s Varanashi says. Historians can debate over whether the ancient port of Muziris was located near Paravur or nor, but a visit to any of the carefully restored sites will leave visitors inspired, particularly considering the general apathy we show towards conservation and restoration.