Jew Town in Mattancherry is a ghost town, home to the only two remaining Paradesi Jews in India’s oldest Jewish quarter. Their companion, Sarah Cohen, had died in August, this year, at 96 years of age, leaving behind her devastated caregiver Thaha Ibrahim. Her husband, Jacob had passed away in 1999. The couple had no children. Ibrahim was close to the Cohen family since he was 12. As the last custodian of Mattancherry’s legacy, he plans to establish a museum in the family’s memory.
The childless Cohens treated Thaha like their own son. In 1982, his uncle Ummer told the 12-year-old class six dropout to earn money by selling postcards and spices to foreign tourists on the street leading to the Paradesi synagogue. The front of the Cohens’ home was the boy’s favourite place. For months he spent trying to interest the tourists with his plasticky wares for $1 each. Thus began the exchange of pleasantries between him and Jacob which would over time make him an indispensable part of the Cohen household. “When I was on my errands, Jacob Uncle would take my place to hawk my cards. He would sell more because he could speak English better than me,” reminisces Thaha.
One day, in 1999, Jacob solemnly gave Thaha the official responsibility of looking after his wife. “I am growing old and I have no children. I have brought up a lot of youngsters by paying for their education and other expenses. But they have all gone away from here. You must look after Sarah till her death. She has nobody else,” he had told the young boy whose postcards had brought them together. In less than two months, on October 28, Jacob died. Thaha was true to his word. He would turn up every day at the Cohen house to care for ‘Sarah Aunty’. She made a living by selling Jewish articles such as kippah caps, embroidered handkerchiefs, tablecloths and children’s dresses.
Thaha would help her in the stitching, buying materials and selling the handmade goods. International media coverage on India’s fading Jewish population brought Sarah’s name out of Mattancherry into the world; especially among those of her own community abroad. Jews and other interested visitors arrived from all over the world at her doorstep. Their reactions when they realised that Thaha was a Muslim caring for a Jew widow varied from gladness to unease. The two religions have been hostile to one another for centuries and the Palestinians have been waging a war against Israel for decades.
“Many visitors were happy about what I was doing for Sarah Aunty. There were a few who did not like it, too,” says Thaha stoically. To those who expressed their apprehensions to Sarah, she would simply say, “I trust Thaha. He looks after me. I have known him for decades.” Thaha’s community members would often ask him, “You are looking after a Jew. What kind of people are they?”
Thaha, who is married and a father of three boys, is a practising Muslim. However, he doesn’t let his religious beliefs interfere with his relationships. He explains that religion is meant to foster relationships, not cause hindrances, “Only by mingling with each other can we understand one another’s faiths and beliefs. Sarah’s cook, Selin, is a Christian. We were three people of different faiths who had a peaceful relationship.
The lack of understanding of humanity is driving Jews to fight Muslims, and Hindus with Muslims and Christians. We are all God’s children. Islam, Hinduism, and Judaism are different paths to the same God. That’s what people need to understand.” In the deserted lanes of the once vibrant quarter, Thaha’s museum for the Cohens will be a reminder of this accord.