The post Chalo Jamye: A Food Tour of Udvada appeared on Parsi Khabar.

BACHI KARKARIA relives her visit to the oldest Fire Temple, the Iranshah, in Gujarat on the eve of Jamshedi Navroz

Iam in Zoroastrianism’s holiest place, the Iranshah at Udvada in Gujarat. The marble lobby glows with hanging oil ‘divas’ cradled in engraved glass shades. Portraits of past Parsi greats look down solemnly. Bai Motlibai Wadia has pride of place. ‘Solely with her own funds ‘in memory of her husband, Ardeshir’, this devout philanthropist rebuilt this fire temple, for the fourth time in 1894, 152 years after this most sacred of our fires came to rest in Udvada.

As dusk deepens the desolation of the almost-abandoned Parsi mohalla around this Atash Behram, we enter the carpeted prayer hall. The only light inside is that of the flickering flames within the inner sanctum. We await the ‘boe’ ritual of the changing of the geh, the five watches which add up to the 24-hour cycle. This Aivisruthrem geh straddles sunset and midnight. The mobed or priest steps into the sanctum sanctorum where only the rigorously ordained priesthood may enter.

Washing the base of the gleaming German silver urn, he begins the ancient rite. In his white long robes, paghdi, the ‘padaan’ covering his nose and mouth so as not to pollute the fire, he is a near-celestial figure, his body language exuding as much pride as humility. He belongs to one of the nine priestly families who alone have had the privilege of tending to the Iranshah. They trace their lineage to Nairyosang Dhaval, who had consecrated this ‘royal’ fire in 720 CE on a desolate Gujarat beach.

This scholar-priest had led the boatload of Persian Zoroastrians fleeing their homeland to save their faith from an aggressively emerging Islam. He took the ancient trade route to Gujarat, calmed the storms with prayer, and landed with his flock in the fiefdom of Jadi Rana. He had collected 15 of the 16 sparks needed for the highest grade of fire, including those from a household hearth, a funeral pyre and a smithy’s coals. Then, after he had prayed for eight days, Ahura Mazda answered with the final, divine constituent, a bolt of lightning. The refugees fell on their knees and declared this fire to be their new king, their ‘Iranshah’. It has burned continuously since then. Now, in Udvada’s quietly imposing Atash Behram, the Parsi priest intones the Atash Niyaesh invocation, as he ritually feeds that same fire, one sandalwood stick at a time from a long-handled German silver spatula. The sacred flames leap. With one gloved hand resting the spatula on the urn, he reaches out to strike a large, burnished bell in the sanctum’s corner. Each gong reverberates for a seeming infinity.

This climatic moment of the geh-changing ritual never fails to trigger a spiritual implosion within me at even the most modest of fire temples. Imagine then its intensity at Udvada’s mythic Iranshah. The gong’s reverberations transport me across 13 centuries to that cosmic moment on Sanjan’s beachhead — and thence along the chequered journey of the venerable Iranshah.

It had to be hidden in a cave in Gujarat’s Barot Hills, then kept for varying periods in Bansda, Surat, Bulsar, and was ‘enthoned’ in Navsari, where the refugee community had grown from rural insignificance to commercial influence. After some 300 years there, a rival group of priests spirited it away to Surat at dead of night in 1742. The controversy was settled in favour of an altogether new residence, Udvada, on October 20, of the same year. The town had none of Navsari’s importance, but it was a serendipitous final home. It was originally ‘Oontvada’, town of camels, and the Prophet Zarathushtra had belonged to a camel herding clan in the cragscape of Central Asia.

As I am held captivated in this audio-visual of leaping flame, sonorous chant and resonating gong, I feel another mystic bonding — this time with my doughty, devout, distant forefathers who had arrived threadbare on the Gujarat coast, and whose descendants came to be called ‘Parsis’. Then my connect embraces the early settlers who had struggled to survive in Gujarat’s hamlets, and hold on to their unique identity without inciting resentment. And I find myself travelling with their successors through the incredible India story of my community.

In the dark prayer hall, I serendipitously meet a pilgrim from Iran. We move to the marble verandah of the Atash Behram. Cocooned in the silence of the cobbled alley, his whispered tale is a chronicle of history repeated. He speaks of how the Ayatollahs had revived the centuries’-old persecution of Zoroastrians after their brief return to ancient privilege under the last Shah of Iran; Reza Shah Pehlavi fancied himself a descendant of the Zoroastrian emperor, Cyrus the Great.

He tells of a secular burden as heavy: Iran’s Zoroastrians are as beleaguered as India’s Parsis by low fertility, intermarriage, emigration. He adds fervently, “Today we are only 10,000 left, but if things were to change, our numbers would swell to 100,000, even a million, because so many Muslim Iranians would immediately return to the religion of their forefathers. They scale walls to catch a glimpse of our religious celebrations.” He then informs me that Zoroastrians of Iran also consider Udvada’s Iranshah as their most sacred place. “We dream of praying here, and be granted the boon of practising our faith in peace.”

As I listen, rapt, to his impassioned Persian, translated by his cousin, I am blessed by yet another metaphysical connect, not just across time, but across geographies — to my original ancestors in the original Zoroastrian homeland. All of us across five millennia bound by our unwavering common faith.

The post Iranshah Udvada: Bachi Karkaria appeared on Parsi Khabar.

At a time when population of Zoroastrians or Parsis in India has declined, an effort is being made at the global level to foster new links between community members and strengthen their identity. This is being done under the Zoroastrian Return to Roots (RTR) programme by the UNESCO-PARZOR Foundation. According to the 2011 census there are about 69,000 Parsis in India.

Article by Melvyn Joseph | Times of India
As part of the programme, 14 young Zoroastrian boys and girls from across the world will be spending four days in south Gujarat and visit important Parsi locations in Surat, Bharuch, Navsari, Udvada, Nargol, Sanjan and Bharuch. The youths who belong to countries like US, Pakistan Canada and India, are on a 13-day trip, which began from New Delhi on March 10 and will end in Mumbai on Jamshedi Navroze on March 21.

During their tour, the young Zoroastrians will explore culture, community, and potential opportunities in India. They will also meet local Zoroastrians at the forefront of business, science, government, philanthropy, arts and music. Their programme will also include religious elements like visits to Zoroastrian religious institutions that are open to all and viewing of the Jashan ceremony. Arzan Wadia, one of the organizers of the RTR programme told TOI, “There are three Indians in the group from Dahanu and Mumbai and the rest of the participants are from abroad. The group will be coming to south Gujarat at Nargol on March 16 and will be spending four days at Sanjan, Daman, Udwada, Navsari, Surat and Bharuch. They will be driven back to Mumbai on March 20″

“It is important that these young Zoroastrians from around the world are eager to explore their community roots and we are here to welcome them,” says Yezdi Ichhaporewala, a community leader. Dinshaw Mehta, president, Bombay Parsi Punchayet told TOI, “We fully endorse and support the programme. The Zoroastrian boys and girls living in foreign countries are coming closer to their roots is a proud moment for all of us.”

The post Young Zoroastrians to foster community links appeared on Parsi Khabar.

On behalf of the entire team at Parsi Khabar we wish you all, our dear readers; and your families, loved ones and friends a Happy Jamshedi Navroze 2015.

We thank you for your readership and support and look forward to it in the years ahead.

The Haft Seen table below is laid out at the home of Parsi Khabar’s own Mehernaaz, Shovir and baby Ava Irani’s home in Mumbai; India.

The post Jamshedi Navroze Mubarak 2015 appeared on Parsi Khabar.

Last month, London’s Bombay-styled cafe Dishoom beat top restaurants such as Michelin-starred Dinner by Heston Blumenthal, Spanish tapas bar Barrafina and other highbrow eateries to became UK’s top restaurant as voted by Yelp reviewers. Look closely at their menu and you will find dishes such as akuri, keema par eedu and bun maska featuring on its menu.

Article by Sonal Ved | DNA India

Parsi food is going places in India too. Not so long ago, for instance, Delhi got itsParsi specialty restaurant Rustom’s Parsi Bhonu after several outlets of SodaBottleOpenerWala left a mark on the palates of diners in the capital. While the former specialises in authentic Parsi cuisine, serving lesser-known wonders such as nariyal na dudh ma cauliflower (cauliflower cooked in coconut milk), Bhaatia nu gos (mutton gravy with fried potato) and vengna nu patio (brinjal served with a tangy curry), the latter has Iranian cafe favourites such as sali chicken, bheeda par eeda (eggs on lady fingers), cutlets and akuri. This goes to tell us that when it comes to Parsi cuisine, someone is doing something right.

Cultural influences
“Parsis migrated from Persia and this gives our food a heavy Iranian influence. This is also where we get our meat-eating habit from,” says Perzen Patel, founder of blog and catering company, the Bawi Bride. Apart from meat, the usage of dry fruits such as raisins and apricots in cooking savoury fare is also something, they learnt from the Persians.

If you look at the menus of authentic Parsi restaurants or Iranian joints, you will notice that Parsis seem obsessed with eggs. Chef Farrokh Khambata, owner and head chef at Joss Catering Company that caters to several Parsi banquet events, concurs: “This is something we probably got from the Britishers, just like our passion for custards and puddings.” Dishes such as tamata par eedu (eggs on tomatoes), salli par eedu (eggs on straw potatoes),bheeda par eedu and Parsi breakfast speciality akuri are mainstays.

When the community migrated to India, their first pitstop was Sanjan, Gujarat. This made them notice tropical ingredients such as coconut, jaggery and banana leaves that have become staples of the Parsi pantry over the years.

In the masala box
If there is one thing about this community’s culinary habits, then it’s the fact that they are extremely particular about their ingredients. Says Patel, “So, you will have some Parsis who will buy their dansaak masala only from Grant Road’s Motilal Masalawala.” Dansaak masala — a star ingredient in most homes — is something that the Parsis now prefer buying from the store instead of hand-pounding it like in the good-old-days.”Apart from this, there is turmeric, chilli powder, curry powder and dhanna-jeeru (coriander seeds and cumin seeds) that complete the masala box,” says Tanaz Godiwalla, a community caterer.

“There is also the leelo and laal masalo, made using a combination of red or green chillies, garlic and cumin seeds that is sauted at the onset of any gravy,” says Khambata. “And everything has an onion and tomato base,” Godiwalla concludes.

Another sacrosanct ingredient is vinegar. “Parsi cuisine is known to have a balance of sweet and sour,” informs Patel.

Patel, Khambata and Godiwalla confirm that most cooks in the community are particular about using E F Kolah & Son’s slow processed sugar cane juice vinegar that gets brewed in Navsari in Gujarat. “Today it is easily available in stores selling Parsi food supplies and works just right to add tang to any dish,” shares Patel. In the popular Parsi preparation,jardaloo ma gosht (apricot and meat stew), heaps of dry apricots are soaked in lugs of vinegar and then used to cook along with mutton. Similarly, the lagan saras stew has vinegar-soaked raisins adding hints of sweetness to the otherwise hot curry. This technique of soaking dry fruits before tumbling them into a dish adds dimension to the food.

Texture too is an important component of a Parsi meal. “That’s why we sprinkle a dash ofsalli or potato straws on certain dishes to create a see-saw,” says Khambata pointing to three breakfast dishes – salli with kheema, salli par eeda and salli boti.

The rest of the cuisine is heavily non-vegetarian. “Breakfast is usually bheja, kheema, akuri or Parsi poro (a six egg omelet), seafood dominates lunchtime meals with prawn patio, patra ni macchi, saas ni macchi with rice and dinner is generally a mutton or chicken-based gravy with rotis or patties,” says Khambata.

Sweet ending
“The bawajis love their kulfis,” says Godiwalla. Then there is the famed lagan nu custard which translates into wedding custard, owing to the celebratory nuts that are added to traditional custard to notch up its glam value. “We also make lots of ravo, which is like semolina ladled with milk, ghee and butter and lastly there is sev or vermicelli — fried and eaten with dahi.”

The post What goes into authentic Parsi cuisine ? appeared on Parsi Khabar.

“A good conservation job is like a root canal,“ says architect Vikas Dilawari.“It does not happen quickly and requires many sittings.“Recently , one such root canal took Dilawari 10 years. His hair went from black to grey as he healed the Esplanade House, the opulent home of industrialist Jamsetji Tata built in 1885.

Article by Sharmila Ganesan | Times of India

Dilawari’s decade-long repair and restoration work paid off when the project received an Honourable Mention at the 2014 Unesco Asia Pacific Awards last year for Cultural Heritage Conservation. And on Monday , surely this structural dentist won’t complain on hearing the word `plaque’.

On March 23, Shigeru Aoyagi, director and UNESCO representative to India, will not only present a plaque to the trustees of R D Sethna Scholarship Fund, which owns Esplanade House, but also certificates to all those who contributed to its restoration.“It is a good pat on the back,“ says Dilawari, who carried out work on this tenanted, threestorey edifice in three stages.Located opposite Bombay Gymkhana, this listed heritage building’s upper storeys have been leased out to private companies.

“Repair work was carried out without dislodging or dislocating the tenants,“ says Far rokh M Rustomji, CEO of R D Sethna Scholarship Fund, adding that the rental income was ploughed back into the maintenance of the building.

As funds slowly trickled in over the span a decade, the dilapidated 127-year-old building grew younger.

One of the rare buildings in the city that has wooden floors and a surviving example from late 19th century Mumbai, “its interiors looked like a film set“, says Dilawari. “But it was illmaintained. I didn’t know where to start.“

Original photographs from Tata’s archives helped the architect, who had to redo the zinc curvilinear awnings, terracotta urns and decorative railing in new materials. Besides, rectifying structural problems like the separation of walls in the rear annexe and redoing the balconies were the other challenges. “I decayed while fixing the decay ,“ says Dilawari, laughing.

The post Jamsetji Tata’s residence wins UNESCO honour appeared on Parsi Khabar.

There is an old sign from the Colonial era that reads ‘Cowasji’ outside the brick structure of the Cowasjee building in Karachi’s port area, Keamari. Inside, 86-years-old Cyrus Cowasjee’s office still maintains its rather vintage design and interior. There are portraits of several generations of Cowasjees adorned on the walls: his father Rustom Faqir Cowasjee, his brother Ardeshir Cowasjee, and a grand uncle, Hirjibhouy Cowasjee, who died very young.

Article by Madeeha Sayed | The Dawn

The Cowasjees have been a part of the city by the sea since 1883.

“I think they came by boat,” says Cyrus Cowasjee, referring to his ancestors. He is the ‘youngest’ board member of Cowasjee group, the oldest shipping company in Pakistan. “They came on an old sailing ship from Bariawa from the West Coast of India,” he adds.

“We started off as coal and salt merchants and then moved on to ship owning,” he says, “it went on until last year when we shut down the business.”

After 107 years of being in business, this legacy of Karachi too has come to an end. But equally, it does give him a lot of stories to tell.

“I started work after leaving college in late 1946,” relates Cowasjee. “Back then, we could cycle from home to the office in 10 minutes! We lived near the Cantonment station at the time. The first project I was assigned to by my family was to dump ammunition into the sea. Isn’t that strange? Why should we throw ammunition into the sea?”

Why indeed, I wonder.

“Just before Partition, the British government decided that there was too much ammunition in the country. And since there was friction among the people, the fear was that it would escalate into conflict,” he explains. “We were given the responsibility of dumping 15,000 tonnes of ammunition. It was live ammo and any mistake would make it blow up. That was my first experience.”

A young Cyrus Cowasjee managed to learn the ropes of the business by 1947; the rest was for him to enjoy and savour.

“Immediately after Partition, we worked at the port and there were labourers of every community. In those days, only women would work on the coal on the ship. Once a woman came to me and told me another woman was in labour in the hull of a ship! I went down and found that a child had just been born,” he narrates.

Just before Partition, the British government decided that there was too much ammunition in the country… We were given the responsibility of dumping 15,000 tonnes of ammunition. It was live ammo and any mistake would make it blow up. That was my first experience.”

“There were no clean clothes for the child to wear. There was no way to get her up, so after covering her in a piece of clothing we had to lift her up in a tub. We’ve progressed to a point where this doesn’t happen. But since then, minorities have been slowly pushed out.”

Did the Parsi community ever face any kind of major discrimination, I ask.

“Discrimination? Not really,” he says, remembering an incident in early 1948. “Back then there were only two shipping companies. It was our turn to buy ships. The other side came to the government and says we are representing one million Muslims and this is only one Parsi family so we should get the priority.”

The minister at the time gave it to them out of turn.

“My father went to Jinnah to complain. He went with Jamshed Nusserwanjee. Jinnah replied, ‘Mr Cowasjee, this was the best government I could give you. The next one is going to be worse.’ So forget about it. So what if the Paris community is small? We are entitled to that port around the ship. That was early 1948. Such minor things go on but nothing major.”

And what of the community at large?

“The community is safe. Because it’s so tiny, it’s out of people’s minds. It’s not a threat to anyone because we don’t convert others so the orthodox Muslim doesn’t feel threatened in any way,” he responds. “Everybody has to move with the times and assimilate with the majority communities. They make do and live in their colonies. My children now have more non-Parsi friends than Parsi friends. It’s a good thing in a way.”

The community has strict rules against converting or including ‘outsiders’ into the community. “The original objection was that if you let non-Parsis become Parsis then they would get access to the trust funds!” laughed Mr Cowasjee, “There was a very serious case in the Bombay High Court, whether that should be allowed or not allowed. We were far more affluent as a community. The money in the community was so much more as compared to the other communities.”

He’s referring to the case in 1906 regarding the right of the French wife (Susanne Brier) of Ratanji Dadabhoy Tata ‘to be initiated into the Zoroastrian religion and to gain access to religious and charitable institutions, including those maintained by the Panchayat: for example, funeral grounds and temples.’ Not surprisingly, the verdict went against her: she could call herself a Zoroastrian but couldn’t enjoy the ‘benefits’ the community provided for being a Parsi. Since then, no one has challenged this ruling predominantly because the term ‘Parsi’ is more ethnic, referring to descendents of those that followed the Zoroastrian faith and who migrated to India in the 1800s.

But the draining of Parsi brainpower out of this country is of great concern for Cowasjee.

“It’s slowly going down. It’s going down very fast! Younger people don’t feel there is much of a future here, that’s why. They usually come back when they get old because it’s not easy living in countries abroad once you get old. Basically, it’s like an elephant coming back to die.”

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, March 22nd , 2015

The post The Original Shippers: Cowasjee’s of Karachi appeared on Parsi Khabar.

The celebrated contemporary dancer’s performance was part of the One World Retreat, a three-day event to promote the cause of the Indian Head Injury Foundation.

Astad Deboo, the celebrated contemporary dancer and choreographer, took the audience’s breath away when he twirled on the parapet of the historic Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur during a fundraiser for the Indian Head Injury Foundation last week.

“The event was to raise funds for the head injury foundation and here I was doing some dance moves on a narrow parapet 30 feet high,” laughs Deboo, the pioneer of modern dance in India, who is not new to dancing on heights.

To the relief of the audience, he subsequently glided down the parapet and continued with his performance on the terrace of the beautifully lit fort..

Deboo was part of the One World Retreat, a three-day event to promote the cause of the Indian Head Injury Foundation. In 2005, Maharaja Gaj Singh’s son, Yuvraj Shiv Raj Singh, suffered a serious head injury after a polo accident and continues his recovery.

Maharaja Gaj Singh of Jodhpur launched the IHIF after his son’s accident to spread awareness and gather resources for those suffering from brain injury.

Other performers at the event included a poetry recital by movie superstar Amitabh Bachchan, the Shillong Choir with the Vienna Chamber Orchestra, the Eton Choir (the alma mater of both Maharaja Gaj Singh and his son), fashion shows by J J Valaya and Raghavendra Rathore, who is the maharaja’s nephew. A talk by Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev and discussions with doctors on head injuries and road safety.

The post When Astad Deboo Made A Fort Dance appeared on Parsi Khabar.

The Mumbai police brought an illegal boat party spread across three boats near Gateway of India to a screeching halt around midnight on Friday.

By Vijay Kumar Yadav, Hindustan Times

Colaba police officers raided the three boats and arrested four boat crew members, who allegedly organised the party for 236 Parsis on the occasion of Jamshetji Navroze. The police later revealed that nothing incriminating was found on the boats, such as liquor or drugs. The four arrested accused have been handed over to the Yellow Gate police station.

Boat parties on sea have been banned since the 26/11 terror attacks in the city in 2008, in which 166 people were killed.

Colaba police officers received a tip-off about the illegal boat party on Friday night. Accompanied by excise department officials, and using Mumbai police’s high-speed interceptor boat Purna, they intercepted three boats – Al-Khalid, Arman 1 and Orient Crown – in the sea near Gateway of India.

“One hundred and thirty women and 106 men, all from the Parsi community, were found partying on the boats. When the police questioned the organisers of the party and the people operating the boats, they found that permission had not been taken for the boat party. The party started around 8.20pm on Friday and was stopped by the police at 12.15am on Saturday. Musarat Bamane, 35, who allowed the party in the boat, was arrested with three others – Shoib Abdulgani Shaikh, 28, Jamaluddin Yusuf Fakaar, 42 and Zuber Iqbal Bamane, 36 on the basis of a complaint filed by a constable of Colaba police station,” said a sub-inspector at the Yellow Gate police station.

“We have arrested the four under sections 188 (disobedience to order duly promulgated by public servant), 336 (act endangering life or personal safety of others) and 34 (common intention) of the Indian Penal Code and section 33W of the Maharashtra Police Act, and seized the three boats on which party was being held, without permission,” said Krishnakumar Chavan, deputy commissioner of police, Port Zone.

The four were later released on table bail of Rs5,000 each. Statements of the owners of the boats are being recorded. A source said the accused had kept the Parsi people who threw the party in the dark about permissions were required for a boat party.

“We are taking strict action against those who organise illegal parties on boats. We will initiate proceedings to cancel licences of the boats, if it is found that operators of the boats have violated mandatory rules and norms,” said Dr Ravindra Shishve, deputy commissioner of police, Zone I.

The post The NavroZYNG Boat Party Ran Foul of the Cops appeared on Parsi Khabar.

The three sheets of papers taped to a window, spelling ZAC, give little indication of the growing temple housed in a former church on Walnut Avenue.

The Zoroastrian Association of California Center, or the ZAC Center, has been the group’s home since 2010, a community center in which the 400 members can pray, meet and celebrate.

Article by Rebecca Kheel | Orange County Register

“It’s growing day by day,” said Mitra Irani, a member of the association since the 1980s.

Zoroastrianism, one of the oldest monotheistic religions in the world, is an ancient Persian religion that emphasizes peace and nature. There are an estimated 2.6million adherents in the world.

The religion was founded in the 6th century BC by Zarathushtra, also known as Zoroaster. The religion believes in one god, Ahura Mazda, and that there are opposing forces of good and evil in the world.

“The core religion is good thoughts, good words and good deeds,” said Tehmi Damania, the Southern California association’s president.

The association was founded in 1974. Its members come from as far south as San Diego and as far north as Calabasas. Prior to buying the vacant church in 2010, the group was nomadic, Damania said, renting various community halls for its services and events.

From Orange County, the bulk of the membership comes from Irvine, Damania said. But the group chose to locate in Orange for the two reasons: it was difficult to find property in Irvine, and Orange was more central to the spread-out membership.

“I walked in and could feel … I felt right then that this is it,” Damania said of when the group found the Orange spot, just east of First Christian Church of Orange and Orange Seventh-day Adventist Church. They bought the 2-acre property for $2.6million.

Most of the association’s members are Parsi – Zoroastrians whose ancestors landed in India after being exiled from Persia. There are about 70,000 Parsis in the world.

In Orange County, there is also a Zoroastrian center in Westminster, called the California Zoroastrian Center. Most of its members are Iranian.

The ZAC Center holds services every Sunday. Because of the spread-out membership, typically only about 50 people come, and the service is conducted as group prayer in a small room called the Hong Kong Room, after a $250,000 donation from the Zoroastrian community in Hong Kong.

For bigger gatherings, the center has a community hall. The room is adorned with various pictures of Zoroaster and other prophets of the religion. At the center above the stage is a picture depicting the religion’s founding that includes an image of the eternal flame, an element most Zoroastrian temples include but which the center lacks.

One large event that will be held in the hall is the upcoming celebration of Navroze, the Persian New Year. About 200 people will come for a prayer ceremony, called jashan, and led by a priest, followed by singing, dancing and feasting. The holiday is March 21, the day after the spring equinox.

“Spring is when everything starts growing,” Damania said. Then she joked, “Everything centers on food.”

The post Orange County Temple at heart of Zoroastrian Community in Los Angeles appeared on Parsi Khabar.

What would you make of “Manchu Macbeth” and “Hamlet no Omelette”? Shakespeare with a delicious twist, yes. But dramatically different too was the fact that these Gujarati spoofs were stirred up in Parsi General Hospital before regaling cosmopolitan audiences every Navroze night on March 21. The remarkable theatre-for-charity tradition was introduced by Dr Jehangir Ratanshah Wadia in 1917.

Article by Meher Marfatia | Mid-Day

It roped in a versatile bunch of Parsi physicians and surgeons, doubling as actors and directors to present a truly unique brand of theatre. Cheeky parodies and imaginative comedies though they were, merriment met sobriety. Packing in full houses, they netted handsome funds for philanthropy. Among the hilarious gems flowing from the good doctor’s pen were Bewafa Bairu, Pastailo Parsi, Ghotala ma Gos and Parsi Harishchandra. He designed their beautiful sets and costumes as well.

Sad irony had it that altruistic Dr Wadia passed away as a pauper. Inspired by him, large-hearted city audiences raised R80 lakh between 1970 and 1991, then a princely sum. It was used for Parsi and non-Parsi beneficiaries alike. After their smash hit Madhouse no Mehmaan, the Parsi Medical Amateurs (PMA) charged R100 a ticket, contributing to cancer research, convalescent homes and free dispensaries. Doling out treatment peppier than any clinical prescription, from 1917 to the 1950s and 1970 to 1995, the PMA wowed viewers with wit and verve. Sprinkled with sly innuendo and some highly original humour, this theatre wove around timeworn themes and typecast characters: cheating lovers, henpecked husbands, shrewish wives, simpering mistresses, spoilt kids and harried servants. Adroit adaptations mocked epic tales and classic tragedies were tweaked to hysterical farces. Going from legend to lunacy, romances like Romeo and Juliet simply switched the Capulets and Montagues to feuding families called the Kakalias and Bhagarias.

To catch up with these medicine men and women is to rewind to evenings of happy histrionics. They look back with delight at their stage innings of ribald revelry. “Ghani majaa karteta — we had such fun!” remembers radiologist Jimmy Sidhva, big daddy of the second wave of doctor naataks. Travelling to Pune and Baroda, the plays reached as far as Karachi. Homeopath Dilnavaz Gamadia recalls a rave reception extended to Madhouse no Mehmaan when it crossed the border. Premier performances were for members of the Parsi Medical Social Gathering (a group from Grant Medical College), followed by a gala dinner in Parsi General Hospital at Kemps Corner. At least three more shows of each play continued in public halls like Patkar, Birla and Sophia Bhabha on weekends after opening night. The flurry of production was centred at Parsi General Hospital. Rehearsals were held in the space behind its main offices.

Hospital superintendents organised food for the “actors”, served by ward boys. Other logistics were as meticulously worked out. Amused hospital telephone operators got used to speedily relaying news of rehearsal timing changes. In an ultimately quaint routine, ambulances ferried sets, props and costumes for trial fittings across town to the doctor’s clinics. This entertainment became a rage with people of every Gujarati-speaking community. MF Husain was in for his own surprise. He heard of the PMA when he visited Dr Sidhva for an X-ray and confessed to loving Gujarati plays thanks to growing up on Grant Road. So he was invited to a show. Expecting the painter to be barefoot as usual, Sidhva brandished a pair of slippers onstage. Stunned to see the artist actually shoe-shod, he quickly quipped: “See here, that’s because I’m wearing Husain’s chappals.” It’s been two decades since the last outrageous revue in the 1990s: Doctors on Parade directed by Sam Kerawalla and Doctors Unplugged conceived by surgeon Bomi Pardiwalla. Three generations of audiences are left with sparkling memories… of radiologists who enjoyed tickling ribs besides x-raying them. Of anaesthetists who dispensed laughing gas in large doses. And of orthopaedic surgeons whose favourite piece of anatomy would have to be the funny bone.

Meher Marfatia loves Mumbai. And adores Bombay.

The post Operation Theater at the Parsee General Hospital appeared on Parsi Khabar.

There was a royal feast at Aunty Villy Engineer 96th birthday. There was cake, and there was suuji ka halwa too. Everybody inside the Parsi General Hospital came to the party; Aunty Nargis Gyara, Aunty Khorshed Malbari and her sister too. Then there were Gulbanoo Bamji and Homy Gadiali, secretaries of the hospital. The men from the male ward came too. So did the doctors. And the physiotherapist. All the attendants too. Nobody wanted to miss it.

Article By Ahmed Yusuf | The Dawn

And why would they? After all, Aunty Villy is a superstar. Some boast that the 96-year-old Parsi woman was the first lady admiral of the country’s navy. But Aunty Villy dampens all such talk. “You know I don’t like boasting,” she says dismissively.

Outside her ward, in the corridor, the evening shuffle begins to pick up. It is almost time for tea, and some of the other women have already secured their place on the benches.

On one of the benches are Aunty Nargis and Aunty Ami Jeriwalla, two sisters, both spinsters, now living in one of the wards. “People ask us why you didn’t get married,” exclaims Aunty Nargis. “But then they tell us it was the best decision of our lives!” In terms of agency and choice, the Parsi women living in Pakistan were well ahead of their times.

The chatter in the corridor steadily grows louder.

Meanwhile, the men lodged in the adjoining male general ward are only beginning to rise from their afternoon slumber. Word has spread though that teatime is nigh; there is some shuffling on the beds and some make an effort to sit up. Nobody has bothered to switch on the television till now.

A little later, a male patient from a private ward heads outdoors to smoke a pipe. He chooses the entrance by the main road to smoke, while an attendant keeps him company. The noise and smog around him don’t seem to matter; this is an evening ritual that must be performed.

The 30-bed Bomanshaw Minocher-Homji Parsi General Hospital, commonly known as the Parsi General Hospital, is a pre-Partition facility that was built to provide subsidised quality healthcare to poor Parsis and was run by the Bomanshaw Minocher-Homji Parsi Medical Relief Association.

Although the hospital was inaugurated in 1942, the association expanded the premises as needed. “We didn’t have the 30 beds that you see today, we just had three rooms. We didn’t have the population either that necessitated the setting up of a larger facility,” explains Homy Gadiali, secretary of the association. The infirmary, for example, was set up in 1965.

But the story of the Parsi General Hospital and its inhabitants perhaps mirrors the fortunes and fate of the Parsi community in Karachi.

They were once the crème de le crème of Karachi society and polity, with the city’s first mayor, Jamshed Nusserwanji, also hailing from a Parsi family. Those admitted to the hospital today are all septuagenarian, octogenarian or nonagenarian; many would have seen Nusserwanji and witnessed how the city evolved too.

“The land for the hospital was donated by Sir Kavasji Katrak in 1942. He was the gentleman who built the bandstand at the Jehangir Kothari Parade; the bandstand itself was not donated by the Kothari family but by the Katraks.

Photos by the writer

The hospital initially was built through a donation by a gentleman named Minocher Homji,” narrates Gadiali.

But over time, the number of Parsis in Karachi has dwindled. Gadiali estimates that the Parsi community has shrunk from about 5,000 at Partition to about 1,200 people now. Much of this decline in numbers is attributed to migration and birth rates.

“Even though Parsi people live long lives, deaths were never replaced by a corresponding number of births,” explains Gadiali. “There was a time when people didn’t get married because there was a lack of housing facilities for them. Now, much of the community-run accommodation facilities are lying vacant.”

While the Parsi community set up trust funds to take care of their own, the community saw major demographic shifts within. In pursuing their careers and sometimes due to insecurity, the younger generations began migrating from Pakistan. The older ones were left behind, sometimes out of necessity and sometimes out of choice.

“It is difficult to travel with an ill parent or parents if you are migrating from Pakistan,” says Gadiali. “There is the obvious tension of travelling, sometimes with kids, handling them, looking for a new home, settling down in a new place and other teething problems. Many people can’t afford to take an ill parent along, because medical costs abroad can be extremely prohibitive.”

It is because of this dynamic that the many of the 30 beds in the hospital are now occupied by elderly people whose families have either migrated or who have nobody to take care of them at home or even those whose families cannot afford caretakers able to tend to them around the clock.

In its essence, the Parsi General Hospital also doubles up as an old home facility. The hospital is a safe space for many Parsi elderly, because a sense of community and belonging pervades the hospital environment. Room rents are minimal in general wards; only Rs300 are charged per day. The maximum daily cost is Rs1,750 for a private ward. Four meals are served to patients every day. Every now and then, some Parsi families also send food and fruits over.

Many families arrange live-in attendants for their loved ones, but those who can’t still rely on the hospital without much hesitation. In the infirmary, for example, an elderly woman in her 90s is taken care of by an attendant around the clock, except at 7pm every evening, when her son arrives from work. The woman’s memory is failing, but what she knows is that her son will have dinner with her every evening.

Life is assisted for many old Parsis but it is normal too; there are no qualms about accepting medical help, nor does it hurt anyone’s ego or sense of self in doing so. Their age brings with it peculiar ailments; the majority admitted on temporary basis have arrived due to fractures, weak muscles, and other orthopaedic complaints. The hospital employs a physiotherapist; he helps patients practice movement exercises and walk.

“We might have a small staff, of doctors and attendants, but what we ensure is that those admitted here will be taken care of. There is an element of trust and reliability involved, since those living abroad need to know that their loved ones are safe,” says Gulbanoo Bamji, joint secretary of the hospital.

From time to time, donations received by various trusts and individuals have allowed the hospital to expand and keep the existing operations running smoothly. Gadiali regrets that it is only a matter of time before none of it will be needed, since there wouldn’t be many Parsis around to begin with.

But for those who live at the hospital, there is much to be grateful about, much happiness to share and many more days to look forward to. There are no regrets of being left behind. There is only an acknowledgment that those in the hospital shall take care of each other, in the best ways possible. This year, they celebrated Valentine’s Day too. They sang songs together, they ate extra snacks too, and they chatted for hours on end.

“All you need is three magical words,” says Aunty Villy, “Thank you God. Thank you for the gift of another day to serve you better. If you run into mishaps, know that ‘this too shall pass.’ Life is what you make it, so make it nice and bright.”

The post Beloved But Left Behind appeared on Parsi Khabar.

Adi Bulsara, scientist, holds a 3-axis coupled-core magnetometer originally developed for C-IED applications at the Space and Naval Warfare Systems Center Pacific.

(Photo by Alan Antczak Released)

WHO: Dr. Adi Bulsara.  He grew up in Bombay, India, in a very conservative society.  He’s a part of the last few remaining members of the Zoroastrian religion (although non-practicing), an ancient religion dating back to 550 BC but, sadly, dying out today. His family wanted him to be a doctor, but when Adi was a senior in school, he had a teacher whose passion for physics and mathematics, he said, “Spoke to me.” The rest, as they say, is history.

TITLE: Distinguished Scientist/Technologist (ST) for Nonlinear Dynamics for the Navy’s Space and Naval Warfare Systems Center, Pacific (SSC Pacific). He received his Ph.D in physics in 1978 from the University of Texas at Austin, working in the Center for Statistical Mechanics, headed by Nobel laureate Ilya Prigogine.

MISSION: To find solutions. More specifically, to find physics-based solutions for some important and contemporary questions. Quite simply, Dr. Bulsara is helping us to understand a lot of unexplained phenomena and generating new ideas that can lead to frontline technical advances. One calculative epiphany at a time.

Tell me a little about yourself and your positon, please.

“I began working as the only scientist in the field of nonlinear dynamics at SSC Pacific in 1983. With a specialization in the physics of nonlinear dynamical systems in the presence of noise, I was one of the early proponents of the stochastic resonance (SR) phenomenon. Drs. Andre Longtin, Frank Moss, and myself were the first (in 1991) to propose SR as an underlying mechanism in the processing of information by sensory neurons in the presence of background noise.”

Stochastic resonance?  What is that?

“SR is a very delicate (and often misunderstood and misused) physical effect wherein background noise in a nonlinear dynamic system can actually enhance the system/sensor performance under some specific physics conditions. It is widely understood, now, that there is background noise in the central nervous system, however sensory neurons are able to exploit SR (and probably other phenomena which are not, yet, understood) so that the noise actually becomes an integral part of the system dynamics and not, simply, a laboratory curiosity.”

So you work with a lot ‘noisy systems’, so to speak.

“Following this work, I concentrated on the physics of noise-mediated cooperative phenomena, of which SR is just one example, in coupled arrays of nonlinear dynamic devices e.g. neurons, superconducting quantum interference devices, and other nonlinear devices, including room temperature magnetometers, electric field sensors, and the so-called ‘channelizer’, a massively parallel spectrum analyzers on a chip. Our work on SR in arrays of nonlinear dynamic elements was featured on the cover of Physics Today in 1996 and led to my being awarded SSC Pacific’s highest recognition, the Lauritsen-Bennett award. Currently, this work (along with other discoveries by the Advanced Dynamics Research group that I headed) has led to a compact, cheap and very sensitive room temperature magnetometer that has been evaluated by the ground forces as an intrusion sensor, among other possible applications (e.g. swimmer detection, undersea surveillance).”

What is your role in developing science or technology within SSC Pacific?

“SSC Pacific has provided me with a lot of opportunities, and my career has been very rewarding.  My primary job at the Center is to conduct research and I’m given the freedom to identify my own areas of research, taking care to select topics and areas that will benefit the Navy, typically in the long term. I’m very excited about all the projects I’m currently working on. One is the nonlinear vibrational energy harvester that uses very sensitive active materials. I am also working on a chip-scale magnetometer, an exotic-materials project that involves a lot of fabrication, some biomimetic sensor work, and an idea to design a nonlinear circuit to efficiently collect energy from vibrations and make the circuit work like a ‘spiking’ neuron.”

“Part of my job is attracting and picking really good people who will be the future of the Center. I’m provided with quite a bit of autonomy to identify science and technology tangents and projects that I think are critical to our warfighters’ defense. In addition, I mentor SSC Pacific’s junior personnel and look out for really good people in academia (mainly with doctoral degrees) who would be a great addition to the command.”

What is the goal/mission of your work at SSC Pacific and what do you hope it will achieve?

“My goal is to find really good researchers in my field, and set up international collaborations. I mentor young people, and look for cool ideas: a lot of this happens at physics/engineering conferences, and has been somewhat hampered in recent years by undue restrictions on conference travel. I’m also given total freedom to interface with universities to discuss new topics and problems.  I occasionally go to program reviews to look for new collaborations, and talent. I try to identify personnel whom I believe will make a good fit and one day be in senior positions to make important decisions for our command and warfighters. I hope I can look back 20 years from now and know I was able to make an impact on (some of) the people who work here.”

In your own words, what is it about what you do that makes it so significant?

“As already stated, I love working on seemingly intractable physics problems (that have a relevance to USN/DOD systems, of course), and I publish a lot. If I were at a halfway decent university, I might be a tenured professor by now! I want to make it clear that I really love the lab (SSC Pacific), for the people, the opportunities, the freedom to look at technology through a ‘wide aperture,‘ and I must add that I have been blessed with prescient (and tolerant!) management throughout my career. I look upon my activities as my way to return a small measure to the lab which has been very good to me.”

How could you use your work/research to aid the military or help with military missions?

“Magnetic sensors are used to provide warfighters with early detection of capability of possible military threats. SSC Pacific’s Advanced Dynamic Research team has partners with researchers around the world in the creation of the Advanced Dynamic Magnetometer (ADM). The ADM is an inexpensive, small, mobile sensor which can be used for many military and civilian applications. Some of the military applications include unattended surveillance of remote areas, and various surveillance and force applications in littoral waters; detection of hostile intruders in surrounding environments; and perimeter, border, and building protection. The sensor can be packaged with other sensors (e.g., seismic, infrared), thereby making it easier to quantify a signal source.”

“Needless to say these sensors have other uses. They have been tested as undersea surveillance and swimmer detection sensors, in addition to the land uses mentioned above.”

What do you think is the most impressive/beneficial thing about what you do and why?

“A lot of the folks in Washington ask ‘Why is the Navy doing basic research?’ Good question! Industry doesn’t have the incentive (or funding) to do basic research any more, unless it is connected to a very specific product (the bottom line is, always, money); for sure you do not have the ‘wide aperture’ in industry as you do at a warfare lab like SPAWAR Pacific, where intra-lab collaborations are highly encouraged. We note that some of the stuff we’ve come up with in the last 10 years is now becoming part of the magnetometers being used in sea trials in unmanned underwater vehicles and, maybe, even space applications, in addition to being inserted into other types of sensors/systems to yield significantly enhanced performance.”

“So the answer is that we start out working on a Navy need, and applying our expertise to it. Along the way we do have to tackle some thorny physics/engineering issues, a lot of which results in 6.1-ish research that we publish and which gets inserted into real applications.”

If you could go anywhere in time and space, where would you go and why?

“I thought about going forward in time, but why? The world is in turmoil, coupled with a social order riven with the (usually adverse) results stemming from moronic politicians of every stripe, in every country, and much more. Thus, the future could turn out pretty good…or pretty bad. Hence, I would prefer to go back in time and, instead of going to grad school, I’d study music. I love grand opera (e.g. works by Puccini, Verdi and Wagner), and rich romantic-era music (e.g. Brahms, Bruckner, Mahler). I’d love to go to Vienna and study conducting. Possibly, be good enough to conduct the Metropolitan Opera, in the Wagnerian Ring Cycle. I really would like that! And to do it I’d have to be simply the best, and I think this could all be within reach, if I could turn the clock back. But…that’s wishing.”

Thanks to Dr. Adi Bulsara for contributing to this article, and for his contributions to the science and technological communities.

Armed with Science – the Official US Defense Department Science blog 

http://science.dodlive.mil/2015/03/09/meet-the-scientists-dr-adi-bulsara/

Meet the Scientists is an Armed with Science segment highlighting the men and women working in the government realms of science, technology, research and development.  The greatest minds working on the greatest developments of our time.  If you have someone you’d like AWS to highlight for this segment, email Jessica L. Tozer at ArmedWithScienceDMA@mail.mil

The post Meet the Scientist: Dr. Adi Bulsara appeared on Parsi Khabar.

Kindling hope for a large number of Parsi women who marry outside their religion, the Supreme Court has agreed to hear a petition challenging a decision by its religious council banning their entry into Fire Temple or the Tower of Silence to participate in the funeral ceremonies of their parents and relatives.

Article by Harish V. Nair | India Today

The petition filed by a Parsi woman Goolrokh M. Gupta and her sister Shiraz Contractor Patodia, who is also a lawyer, has been pending in the SC for the past three years. The sisters challenged a 2012 Gujarat High Court judgment upholding decision of Parsi Anjuman Trust (Valsad, Gujarat) which imposed the controversial ban.

Goolrokh and Shiraz, whose husbands were Hindus, said they are not just ready for such excommunication and want to participate in the last rites of their parents.

“Our parents are in their 80s. While we hope that they live long and healthy lives, life is not certain. In the unfortunate event of either of our parents, we have a right to attend the funeral, participate and perform the last rites as per the Parsi Zoroastrian religion,” Shiraz says in the petition.

On a mentioning by senior lawyer Siddharth Luthra, a bench headed by Chief Justice H. L. Dattu fixed the plea for detailed hearing on April 7. The petition also raised a question of importance in the context of women’s rights post their marriage to freely exercise their right to preach any religion.

The controversial ruling of the High Court meant that a woman who enters into wedlock, even under the Special Marriage Act, 1954, outside her religion is deemed to have changed her religion to that of her husband thereby losing the right to practice her own religion.

Goolrokh cites the example of one Dilbar Valvi, a Parsi woman who married a Hindu. Valvi was denied right to attend funeral of her mother at the “Tower of Silence” by the Anjuman Trust. Goolrokh’s parents are alive but she moved the High Court knowing that she would meet the same fate unless there was a direction allowing her to enter the Fire Temple and Tower of Silence.

The HC had ruled that upon her marriage, a woman is “deemed and presumed” to have acquired the religious status of her husband. The sisters said: “It’s wrong to say that the rule applied even to marriages solemnised under the Special marriages Act which is a special statute specifically enacted by legislature to register a special form of marriage where neither of the parties to the marriage is required to renounce their religion.”

Sources in the Parsi Anjuman said: “A board of trust cannot act contrary to what the general body has passed. We did that as per our customs, traditions and advice from the high priests.”

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Your faith in the judiciary may notch up if we tell you that justice Rohintan Fali Nariman, one of Supreme Court’s judges is an ardent man of God once his judicial duties have been meted. And if justice Markandey Katju (referring from his blog post from the year 2014) is to be believed, justice Nariman is an ordained Parsi priest who is adept at performing marriages, Navjote ceremonies and has access to enter the sanctum sanctorum like any other priest of his calibre.

Article by Preksha Malu, www.dnaindia.com

The blog, www.justicekatju.blogspot.in, further states that apart from being an eminent lawyer, justice Nariman trained himself to be become a priest at a tender age of 12. Quoting from the website, when Rohinton was 12 years old, he was sent to a Parsi school where he lived in isolation for 28 days in an agiary. He prayed five times a day and memorised 72 chapters of the Zendavesta – a holy book of the Parsis’ and recited it in the presence of his family members for three hours at a stretch before he was given the validation to be called a true-blue priest.

The public relationship office from the Bombay Parsi Punchayet, Godrej Dotivala, confirms this. He reminisces, “I have known Fali Sam Nariman (justice Nariman’s father) since I was three years old. He had fled his country (Rangoon, Burma) due to the Japanese invasion before he came to India to settle in Mumbai.” Dotivala is one of justice Nariman’s family friend and fondly remembers him as being a bright student with an impeccable memory and tremendous faith in Ahura Mazda, the Parsi god.

During the punchayet’s felicitation programme in January 2015, it was releaved that justice Nariman was also a lecturer on the subject of Zoroastrianism and held Gatha classes, 17 hymns composed by Zarathusthra.

Ace lawyer Darius Khambata, in his speech read out at the felicitation said, “It was Rohintan who introduced me to Zoroastrianism and certain aspects of historical writings on Christianity as well. He is known to put his heart and soul into his work which is one of the characteristics of a true Zaotar.”

Justice Nariman, an alumni of the popular South Mumbai school, Cathedral and John Connon also has a lighter side. His close friend and senior advocate Jimmy Pochkhanawalla shared that justice Nariman doted his friends. And that aspect of his life is evident when they take off on their annual vacation to Mahableshwar each year during winters.

When we contacted the Bandra agiary for a comment, they were unavailable.

The post A judge who knows God appeared on Parsi Khabar.

Good friend of Parsi Khabar and amazing chef and author Niloufer Mavalvala is now on Huffington Post. Check out her latest column.

Growing up in a generous family in Karachi, our dining table was an open and welcoming place to gather around. There was hardly a day when we did not have extended family, friends, and sometimes even strangers, joining us for a meal. I strongly believe my passionate love for cooking and creating at a whim stems from this.

The necessity to help muster up food at the last moment to offer and share with unexpected visitors gave me that unique opportunity to be different. We were fortunate enough to have a variety of dishes from global cuisines served because my parents were avid travellers who brought back recipes and food ideas like other tourists bring home curious and knick knacks.

Travelling extensively with them during my childhood not only opened my mind to diverse cultures, but also gave me an opportunity to try out different cuisines, further sharpening my palate. The downside of this is that there is no particular cuisine I lean toward that will ever top my list, but I have noticed that I am drawn to cuisines with a French twist as three of the nine e-cookbooks I have written can testify.

Continue reading on HuffPo.Ca

The post The French In My Food: Niloufer Mavalvala appeared on Parsi Khabar.

The Parsi community wants the government to encourage universities to start courses on Zoroastrian studies. At a recent meeting with the National Minority Commission, the Parsis put forward their request to start such courses that will cover the rich history and the dying dialects of the community.

Zoroastrian scholar and trustee of the Bombay Parsi Punchayet, Khojestee Mistree, said that the idea was floated when the commission team met with the community members on Friday. “In a city like Mumbai, there should be a full-fledged department of Zoroastrian studies under which courses on Parsi history, heritage and linguistics can be offered,” said Mistree, citing an example of University of London that is the only university in the world to have a Zoroastrian studies department.

The community members told the commission that universities should start cultural studies on Parsis, ancient Zoroastrian scriptures and also linguistic studies to save the dying dialect of Parsi-Gujarati that is a mix of middle Persian language called Pahlavi and tribal Gujarati.

The commission chairperson, Naseem Ahmad, has now asked the Parsis to submit a formal memorandum for the demand.

According to Mistree, when Dr Mehroo Bengalee was the vice chancellor of the Mumbai University, the community has approached her to start a course or a department of Zoroastrian studies. “However, the idea fizzled out,” Mistree said.

The post Parsis Want Courses in Zoroastrianism at University of Bombay appeared on Parsi Khabar.

While a dwindling community struggles to survive, filmmaker Shernaz Italia documents the little-known lives of the Delhi Parsis who moved to the capital at the turn of the 19th century

“Aavoji, aavo, aavo! Welcome to Delhi! Let me show you my beautiful city.” The booming voice of Nowrosji Kapadia could be heard across the length and breadth of the platform. It was Nowrosji’s favourite pastime: a walk to the Old Delhi railway station to greet the Frontier Mail as it chugged into Delhi from Mumbai to Peshawar. With this refrain, an eager Nowrosji would cajole Parsi visitors off the train and take them home for a meal and often persuade some to stay overnight or for a few days. He would use this opportunity to tell them about the advantages of shifting to Delhi. Though his wife Jer Bai would occasionally object to unknown visitors, she was always overruled. This was the beginning of the community of Parsis in Delhi.

Childhood Memories: The writer, Shernaz Italia, with her parents outside her childhood home at K-45 Connaught Place. Italia’s maternal grandparents moved here in 1936.
Photograph courtesy: Shernaz Italia

Nowrosji Kapadia was one of the oldest Parsi residents of Delhi. He was born in Bharuch, a small town in Gujarat. He opted out of his family’s failing cloth business and got a job as an agent with the European firm Ralli Brothers. They sent him to Delhi in 1880. Why did he not want to return to Bharuch, or Bombay, where our community still resides in large numbers? Was it business sense, apt foresight of Delhi’s growing importance, or was he just different? A few other Parsi families moved northwards to Delhi and beyond in the 1870s–80s. My mother’s grandfather, Nusserwanji Mehta, moved here at that time. My uncle, Rusi Sorabji, has amazing memories of the Delhi of his youth. Whatever the reasons for shifting, the Parsis who came to Delhi developed a liking for the city and decided to settle here.

Memory is a strange thing. You think it is yours and then you realise it is not; it is actually dependent on other people. Writing about Parsis in the Delhi of old is not easy. There are memories of my grandparents and parents— a collective memory of generations past and people long gone, yet here in spirit.

My earliest memory of trains and stations is associated with the same Frontier Mail that Nowrosji accosted years ago. It brought young, scared Parsis from their cocoon in familiar Parsi baugs (residential “Parsis only” colonies) of Bombay and Gujarat to the unfamiliar city of Delhi. My grandparents’ home, which became my parents’ home after they passed on, was an open house for family, friends and travellers passing through. It was full of hustle-bustle, and much food and laughter. I have never known my home—K-45 Connaught Place, or CP, as it is called—to be empty and it has never been locked. At any given time there were at least 10–15 people living with us. Generosity comes naturally to Parsis, as it did to my family—sometimes at a cost to themselves. My maternal grandparents and mother moved into the flat in 1936 while it was still being built. There was no electricity and water was hauled up three flights of stairs by a bhishti (water carrier).

I have since seen CP through its many avatars. Built like a central plaza, its Georgian architecture is modelled after the Royal Crescent in Bath, England. Its two concentric circles are lined with broad white colonnades and there’s a garden in the centre. As a young child, when I looked down our road, the domes and minarets of Jama Masjid were visible and even the walled city; since old Delhi is due north, thankfully I can still see the domes and the minarets. From our rooftop, before the hideous high-rises came up, we had a clear view of the Rashtrapati Bhavan. Diagonally opposite us is Odeon Cinema. In 1964 I saw Raj Kapoor arrive at the theatre from our balcony before I went there to watch Sangam—my first movie ever.

Continue reading at Indian Quarterly

Shernaz Italia is a film producer based in Delhi with a postgraduate degree in philosophy from Delhi University. She worked on Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi and has made several international documentaries and features.

The post Navroz in New Delhi: Shernaz Italia appeared on Parsi Khabar.

This film from India was screened at the United Nations last month as part of the celebrations of the International Day of Navroze – Preserving an Intangible Heritage of Humanity.

The film was commissioned by the Ministry of External Affairs, Government of India.

The Film captures the essence of how Navroz is celebrated in India by the Parsi and Irani communities. It aims to bring to the world the uniqueness of the Parsi/Irani community in India and how they celebrate and give thanks. The Film takes one through the single day of Navroz, taking the viewer on a journey, through various spaces, of what a typical New Year day is like in a Parsi household – from quiet piety at dawn to a gregarious feast at dusk.

The post Navroz The New Day at the United Nations appeared on Parsi Khabar.

Coming from an ancient movie projector, the image is shaky and scratchy. Kajol and Anil Kapoor’s marriage seems beset with problems. But, that does not stop the usual Bollywood song and dance routine in Hum Aap Ke Dil Me Rehte Hain (1999).

Article by Kallol Bhattacherjee | Manorama Online

When the lights come on, reality hits you. The hall is nearly empty and has not been renovated in years. The audience mostly comprises local shopkeepers and drunkards. The show THE WEEK saw was one of the last in New Majestic Talkies in Ajmer, Rajasthan. Unable to survive the multiplex boom, it shut down on February 28. Major (retd) Noshir K. Marfatia, the owner of the cinema, too, is a vanishing breed. He is one of Ajmer’s last Parsis.

The ZYNG team: Pearl and Darius Tirandaz. Photo by Janak Bhat

The Marfatias bought the cinema in 1928. After running silent movies, it screened the first Indian talkie, Alam Ara (1931). There were around 80 Parsi families in Ajmer then. “From the shrine of Gareeb Nawaz [Moinuddin Chishti] to the railway station and the Mayo College, Parsis were the flavour of Ajmer for a century,” said Marfatia. “They have all vanished. I am one of the few left behind.” The septuagenarian widower, however, tries to keep the Parsi way of life alive by using the incense, the cuisine and the old family crystal and the ceremonial bronzes.

The Parsis thrived in Ajmer when the British, mostly military and railway officials, stayed there. Little surprise that one could order a whisky soda during the break at the New Majestic Talkies. Said Marfatia, “We were the favoured community during the colonial era and our families prospered during the nineteenth and early twentieth century. We spread from Gujarat and Bombay to other parts of India. But, India has its own dynamics. And we failed to look beyond our community. But, I am ensuring that the community should change bit by bit.”

Once an orthodox Parsi, Marfatia had to fight his own inhibitions when his daughter said she wanted to marry a Bengali. He resisted for a year, and then gave in. His son-in-law, he said, is better than many other grooms he has seen. “To multiply and survive, Parsis should come out of the grip of orthodoxy,” he said. “Or else, we will be part of the history of India.”

Demographics aside, loneliness is also an issue. Marfatia rents out several rooms of his large house to tourists. “But I do not open my house to every tourist. They are usually checked by my helper,” he said.

Now, a movement is on to increase the Parsi population. And, at the forefront of the movement is Shernaz Cama, daughter of the late Lt-Gen Adi Sethna, a dear friend of Marfatia. Cama launched The UNESCO Parsi-Zoroastrian Project, simply called the Parzor Foundation. It was launched in 2003, the year UNESCO celebrated 3,000 years of Zoroastrianism. Among Parzor’s patrons were the late B.G. Verghese, the Magsaysay-winning journalist.

Parzor works on multiple fronts, including heritage and community conservation. For seven long years Cama researched the social and cultural challenges which stand in the way of the community’s desire to multiply. In 2013, Parzor tied up with the Government of India and launched the Jiyo Parsi project.

The Jiyo Parsi project has been in the news of late for its ad campaign asking Parsi couples to “be responsible” and shun the use of condoms. Cama said building a network of sympathisers for such a radical scheme was not easy, especially because Parzor was focused on culture preservation initially. But, Cama found willing allies in Katy Gandevia of the Tata Institute of Social Sciences and, in her assistant, Pearl Mistry. At present, Jiyo Parsi is being run from a tiny room in the TISS academic block and from Cama’s south Delhi house.

Tight bond: (From left) Pearl Mistry, Katy Gandevia and Shashikant Sakat are part of the Jiyo Parsi team. Photo by Janak Bhat

The ad, designed by Sam Balsara, raised hell in the Parsi community. People like Simin Patel, Cama’s former student from Lady Sri Ram College, went public with their criticism. What right did the government have in the Parsi bedroom? asked the global Parsi community. It took dozens of phone calls and emails from the Jiyo Parsi team to douse the fire. The ad also raised the question as to why the community was in slumber so long.

Once younger Parsis understood the concept, they chipped in with new ideas. Choreographer Pearl Tirandaz and her husband, Darius Tirandaz, launched ZYNG—Zoroastrian Youth for Next Generations. ZYNG brought in new ideas like speed dating among Parsi singles. Pearl organised a mega community jamboree with support from the Taj Group of Hotels.

“We have mixed social gatherings with adventure sports, which allow us to take Parsi singles for rafting in the Himalayas,” said Darius. “We also have Parsi singles only parties in Mumbai.” Next, ZYNG plans to help Parsi couples achieve work-life balance.

Pearl and Darius are, however, worried about the overall decline in the community’s status in society. “We had access and prosperity. But, now the community’s identity and survival are the issues,” said Pearl. Many Parsis feel that the community today is not throwing up legends like Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw and J.R.D. Tata.

But, Marfatia said that it was no surprise. “Parsis were privileged and bright, so they made it as soldiers, scholars and administrators,” he said. “But, now the field is open for those sections of society which did not wield power earlier. So, we have competition, but we can rival all if we take care of the community’s numerical issues.” Marfatia called Parsis the “micro minority of India” and said the community deserved all possible support from the government.

A surprise finding by the Jiyo Parsi team was that the Parsi baug (neighbourhood) culture had created a false sense of comfort among the youth. “Despite all the talk of getting security from the baug culture, the Parsis were actually getting ghettoised,” said Gandevia. “So, you see, we have no illusion that the ads will help Parsis multiply. We have to deal with a series of social barriers that prevented them from acquiring more responsibility.”

The Jiyo Parsi team also burst the myth that Parsis are the most affluent community in India. Cama found many Parsi couples who were not having babies for financial reasons, including not being able to pay for treatments like in-vitro fertilisation. So, the Jiyo Parsi team now works on two fronts—pleading with Parsi singles to get married and have more than two babies, and supporting couples with financial, health and emotional needs. The Jiyo Parsi team meets Parsi singles and couples either discreetly or in counselling sessions, where anonymity and secrecy of the participants are ensured.

Very few beneficiaries are willing to come on record. Sheriar Khosravi of Mumbai is an exception. He thanked the Jiyo Parsi team for helping him and his wife with IVF costs. “We tried twice before, but failed,” he  said. “We hesitated, given the expenditure that we had to undergo for each attempt. But now Jaslok Hospital is giving us exclusive attention and I am confident that this time we will not have to worry about money.”

Identity is another issue Jiyo Parsi is looking at. Gandevia and Marfatia said that, as champions of secularism, Parsis chose to dilute their identity. “As a result, names like Ardeshir and Keki are increasingly viewed as those who were born in the early 20th century,” said Gandevia. “The new trend among Parsis is to give more Hindu-sounding names like Rahul and Divya. While new names are OK, they also dilute the identity of a community which needs to hold on to its tiny cultural identity.”

The Jiyo Parsi team is confident that in the next four years around 300 Parsi babies will be born. Jiyo Parsi will back each baby with a corpus of Rs5 lakh, taken from the Rs10 crore given to the programme by the ministry of minority affairs.

The Jiyo Parsi team is already famous beyond India. Phone calls and emails are pouring in from countries like Israel, Finland and Norway, where low birth rates are a problem for long-term national plans.

Being part of a small team, Gandevia and Cama also act as agony aunts to singles and couples. Their phones keep ringing off the hook. Just as THE WEEK was taking leave of Cama, Ferzeen from Mandvi, Gujarat, called her. The young woman and her factory worker husband had fertility issues. They had not planned a family, fearing treatment costs. They were seeking Jiyo Parsi’s help. Ferzeen’s elderly father-in-law thought this was all an elaborate con and grilled Cama over the phone. She convinced the family that she and Jiyo Parsi were real.

So, after babies, what next? Cama is already dreaming about a museum of Parsi culture and artefacts in Delhi.

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