Sunset at Cape Comorin

Many lands have notable southernmost points known as Capes. Each cape tells a story of exploration and discovery. Africa has the Cape of Good Hope, South America has Cape Horn, Australia has South East Cape, Europe has Cape Trypiti. And in India, Cape Comorin stands proud. This southernmost tip is where the Arabian Sea, Bay of Bengal, and Indian Ocean unite.

The town is filled with lush greenery, a scenic coastline, and towering mountains.

A vibrant archway marked the entrance to the Cape, welcoming me as I drove in.

I stayed at the YMCA’s International Guest House, a serene retreat nestled amid nature’s beauty. With over a century of presence in the region, the Young Men’s Christian Association has roots that run deep in the community.

Every evening, the guest house’s petite chapel hosts prayer services, with soulful hymns drifting through the surroundings.

From my second-floor room, I enjoyed a splendid view of the Western Ghats, with the mountains framing the cityscape.

At dawn, I woke up early at around 4.30 a.m. and walked to the Sunrise Point, just a few metres away from my guesthouse. Cape Comorin is one of the rare places where you can witness both sunrise and sunset over the ocean.

I thought arriving early would guarantee a front-row spot for the sunrise, but boy, was I wrong. A crowd of around two hundred people had already gathered near the sea, eager to witness the morning unfold. The golden orb began to peek through the clouds, and it was only a matter of time before it rose above the horizon.

Finally, the sun emerged in all its glory, casting a golden glow over the blue ocean, a sight that resembled a painting. This is probably the first time I woke up to witness the sunrise and it was amazing. The morning was complemented by the sound of morning devotionals echoing from the loudspeaker of the nearby St. Roch’s Church, setting the perfect start to the day.

Traditional decorative conch horns, significant in Hindu rituals, were sold as souvenirs along the shore.

One of the iconic landmarks of the town is the Vivekananda Rock Memorial, a monument standing on two rocks amid the sea.

After a long wait, I boarded a ferry that took around 20 minutes to reach the rock.

This rock was once known as Kurusu Paarai (Rock of the Cross), a sacred spot where local Catholic fishermen would pray before setting out to sea. It’s said that this is where Swami Vivekananda, a revered Indian spiritual leader, swam to this rock, where he meditated and attained enlightenment that led him to dedicate his life to serving humanity.

Swami Vivekananda, although a Hindu monk, held Jesus Christ in profound reverence, famously proclaiming, “Had I lived in Palestine, in the days of Jesus of Nazareth, I would have washed his feet, not with my tears, but with my heart’s blood!”

Standing at the edge of the rock, I gazed out at a breathtaking panorama of the town, the azure blue waters of the Indian Ocean stretching out as far as my eye could see.

The Glass Bridge connects the Vivekananda Rock Memorial to the adjacent Statue of Wisdom. Made of fiberglass, this is India’s first glass bridge built over the sea.

The sensation of walking barefoot over the glass bridge was exhilarating, with the ocean beneath my feet.

Towering at 135 feet, the Statue of Wisdom depicts Thiruvalluvar, the celebrated Indian poet who penned the Thirukkural, a classical text on ethics and morality.

During the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, the deadliest natural disaster of the 21st century, powerful waves reached the chest level of this statue, but the statue’s sturdy design made it withstand nature’s fury.

The thirukkural is composed of 1330 short couplets of seven words each, that extol virtues like truthfulness, non-violence, gratitude, hospitality, among others.

After visiting the Rock, I headed to the stone pier that stretched nearly 500 metres into the sea. As I walked to the end, the salty breeze rustled my hair.

Two stunning churches caught my eye, beautifully framing the town’s skyline, St. Roch’s and Our Lady of Ransom.

Built in 1843, St. Roch’s Church is designed in the Greek architectural style. The church is dedicated to St. Roch, a 14th-century French nobleman who renounced his wealth to care for plague victims, miraculously healing many with the Sign of the Cross. He eventually contracted the disease himself and died in prison. He is the patron saint of those affected by infectious diseases.

Saint Francis Xavier visited Cape Comorin in 1542 and founded a grotto that eventually evolved into the Our Lady of Ransom Shrine.

Built in the Gothic architectural style, this pearl-white church is a major pilgrimage site in the region, holding great historical and spiritual significance.

The church has seven doors, representing the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit.

Our Lady of Ransom is a title of Mother Mary associated with visions in Spain in 1218. She appeared to three different people to establish a religious order called the Mercedarians, whose goal was to liberate Christians kidnapped by Spanish Muslims and cruelly tortured in African prisons. The Mercedarians aimed to free Christians through prayer, ransom, and self-sacrifice. Members would raise money and offer themselves in exchange for enslaved Christians if needed. The order grew rapidly, and tens of thousands of Christians were ransomed through their efforts.

The church’s flag mast has a fascinating history behind it. In 1917, a German merchant ship carrying coal ran ashore near Cape Comorin and was abandoned. The ship’s iron mast was auctioned off and purchased by a merchant, who donated it to Our Lady of Ransom Church. After the mast sank the boat it was loaded on, it miraculously floated, and was then transported to the church and installed here. Every year, the Feast of Our Lady of Ransom is celebrated for 10 days in December, culminating in a grand procession and joyous celebration as the flag is raised high on this very mast.

The winding stairs led me to the adoration chapel on the topmost floor. It was a quaint place to pray and self-reflect while gazing at the peaceful ocean.

Catholics make up the majority of the town’s population, their history dating back to the 15th century, as evidenced by unearthed tombstones.

The streets bear names that reflect this heritage, such as Joseph Street, Sahaya Matha (Our Lady of Perpetual Help), and Alangara Matha (Our Lady of Ransom), to name a few.

Beautiful little chapels stand at every turn, lovingly financed and maintained by the devout local community.

Many more chapels were under construction at the time of my visit. It’s no surprise that this town boats one of the highest numbers of churches per capital. 

One fine morning, I squeezed my way through the bustling crowds at the Fish Auction Market, where the fresh catch of the day was being bid on.

Fisherfolk sold their daily haul as enthusiastic buyers called out their prices.

After this, I headed to the historic lighthouse on the shore, built in 1904 and standing at 105 feet above sea level.

Right at the top, I was treated to spectacular views of the town and the expanse. I stood there for minutes, just taking it all in.

A slice of history awaited me at Vatakottai, an 18th-century fort built as a coastal defence and barracks during King Marthanda Varma’s reign in the Travancore kingdom.

Spread across an area of 3.5 acres, the fort houses a watch tower, an armoury, a barracks, and a pond within its grounds.

Padmanabhapuram Palace, the royal residence of the Travancore Kingdom, is said to have been visible from the peak of the fort back in the day. A secret tunnel once connected the palace to the fort, which is surprising given the considerable distance of 33 kilometres between them.

Constructed from granite blocks, part of the fort extends into the sea, offering breathtaking views of both the ocean and surrounding hills.

Nearby, a unique black sand beach adds to the fort’s charm.

Out of sheer curiosity, I checked out the Mayapuri Wonder Wax Museum, a wannabe cousin of the world-renowned Madame Tussaud’s in London.

A diverse set of personalities came together at the museum, featuring revered figures like the People’s Pope and the Saint of the Gutters, pop culture icons like the King of Pop and the Tramp, and visionary thinkers like the Father of Modern Physics.

Life-size, yes. Realistic, not really. The likeness of Barack Obama was particularly far from convincing. Pretty sure even Michelle Obama would’ve done a double take and said, “Uh, who’s this guy?”

The Gandhi Memorial stands in memory of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, one of the leaders of the Indian independence movement. Following his assassination in 1948, the urn containing his ashes was brought here and a memorial was built on the spot. The central tower is 79 feet tall, symbolizing his age when he died.

The memorial’s ceiling features a specially designed opening that allows sunlight to illuminate the exact spot where the urn was placed every year on October 2, MK Gandhi’s birth anniversary.

Historic photographs depicting key moments from his life and times are displayed inside.

Today, his legacy continues to be a subject of debate, with him being hailed as a peacemaker on one hand and chastised for some of his views on the other.

The neighbouring market had umpteen stalls selling everything from local spices to ornamental seashells to handmade crafts.

The most peculiar among them was a parakeet fortune-teller. A traditional astrology practice in the state, it involves a rose-ringed parakeet trained to pick up Tarot-like fortune cards. Who would have guessed that being literally birdbrained could get the parakeet a job?

As the day drew to a close, I took a buggy ride to Sunset Point, where the ocean meets the rocky shoreline in a scenic landscape.

A tranquil grotto of Mother Mary overlooked the ocean, her gentle eyes watching over those who sailed by.

I caught a glimpse of the kattumaram, a traditional raft used on the South Indian coast, made by tying tree trunks together. The name literally translates to ‘tied wood’ in the vernacular.

At 6:30 pm, the setting sun painted the sky with a flaming orange hue, setting the horizon ablaze.

The town came alive with a colourful display lights at nighttime.

I dined at a couple of restaurants; the ambiance was great, but the food fell short. That was until I stumbled upon a hidden gem, a row of family-run food stalls near the beach serving mouthwatering, fresh seafood.

Platters of fish, squid, prawns, and crab were spread out on a table. Customers could simply choose their preferred dish and have it prepared fresh on the spot.

The seafood is then expertly marinated in a flavourful blend of spices and deep-fried to perfection.

What I had for dinner was a plate of succulent prawns and squid, fried to a crisp and seasoned with a hint of garlic and lemon. The food was chef’s kiss... so crunchy, so spicy.

This coastal town, despite being little, has a lot of heart. It’s not only the place where three water bodies meet, but also where spirituality, nature, and tranquility converge in harmony.

As I waved goodbye to Cape Comorin, the exit arch said, ‘Thank you, come again.’ I definitely will, with good memories to hold on to until then!