All this was explained to us as we gathered at the foot of a 40-foot tall monolithic statue of Bahubali at the Jain shrine in Karkala, near our second port of call, Mangalore.  Bahubali was indeed mighty, and covered with twining vines, and quite naked.  In the courtyard, along with the other offerings of flower garlands, oil candles, and coins, was a large design in colored powder, featuring a central mandala flanked by four – could it be? yes – swastikas.  Swastikas were used for millennia as symbols of good fortune in the Hindu, Buddhist, and Jain religions before being adopted as the emblem of Nazism.  I’m pleased to report that by the end of our journey, the ubiquitous welcoming swastikas on the doorways of temples, businesses, and homes had reclaimed their benevolent meaning, thanks to the warm hospitality that we found within.

One of most memorable aspects of travel in India is the extraordinary friendliness and good humor that you meet everywhere. Although our tourist itinerary isolated us from the worst urban and rural poverty, we daily encountered many people whose lives by our privileged standards were poor indeed.  And yet, we were almost invariably met with brilliant smiles, good-natured curiosity, and offers of hospitality.  This was strikingly on display at our one “industrial” excursion, to a cashew factory in Mangalore.  While the factory floor was clean and well-lit, the technology was Dickensian:  manual shelling and sorting stations, red-hot roasting ovens, and pedal-driven slicers that threatened unprotected fingers with every stroke.  But the women (they were all women) took pride in showing us their work and their factory, and were delighted to see pictures of themselves in our digital cameras.  Although now that I think about it, some of the laughter might have been related to our hiking shorts and sunburned knees…

Our next port of call was Cochin, on the spice-rich Malabar coast of south India.  Here we were greeted at dockside with traditional Indian music and an elephant in full regalia.  Based on my experience of them in zoos, I have always considered Indian elephants rather uninspiring compared to their larger, wilder, and altogether more noble African cousins.  However, in India I came to a new appreciation of these extraordinary animals.  In their dignity, their calm, and their embodiment of the powerful non-human forces of the universe, they made me feel very small indeed.

Cochin is famous for its “Chinese fishing nets” – huge wooden contraptions that line the approaches to the city and are levered up and down by manpower.  While we were there, they netted very few fish, but literally thousands of photographs.  Our stroll along the shore and through the blinding afternoon smells of the fish market whetted my appetite for our excursion of the next day:  on small boats through the (I hoped) bird-rich rice paddies and fishing villages north of Cochin.