On the Malabar coast, where Arab ships had traded pepper since Solomon's time, a Hindu king dreamed a strange dream: the full moon tore in two halves across the sky. His astrologers were silent. Then merchants from Arabia, unloading at Muziris, heard the dream and smiled тАФ we know this sign, they said. Our prophet split the moon.
So Cheraman Perumal, last of the Cheras, divided his kingdom among his chieftains, sailed west to Mecca, met Muhammad, and embraced Islam. He took the road home a Muslim pilgrim тАФ and died on it, near Salalah in Oman, where (tradition says) his tomb still lies. But before dying he pressed letters into the hands of Malik bin Dinar: go to my country; my people will receive you; build houses of prayer.
The first and greatest rose at Kodungallur in 629 CE тАФ teak pillars, tiled Kerala roofs, a hanging lamp that (devotees believe) has never gone out. Scholars today debate whether the stones are quite that old; the mosque's own stone says 629, and fourteen centuries of Friday prayers say the rest.
Hindus visit it. Christians visit it. Jews of old Kochi knew it. The king who sailed west built, without knowing, India's easternmost proof that faiths can share one coastline.