For CBC Creative Nonfiction Competition – 2012
PARSIS OF MUMBAI AND KARACHI
By
Dinshaw Patel
The Parsis of Mumbai and Karachi. Who are they? Where do they come from? If you cannot answer the questions immediately, you need not feel ashamed. You are amongst the mainstream, with the exception of the Parsis themselves and some others who, through association, would have some knowledge of this dwindling community.
With strict restrictions on the community’s conversion policy, fashionably low birth rates and an increasing number marrying outside their Zoroastrian faith, the Parsi population is declining to the extent that they are now even an unrecognised entity in the two mentioned cities they were so instrumental in building.
Yet, not too long ago they were the pioneers of the Indian subcontinent, entrepreneurs that financed entire countries; educationalists that built schools and colleges replicating England’s best in curriculum, facilities and architecture; developers of vast housing and office complexes, hospitals, parks, promenades and industries; and philanthropists whose charities are still serving the needy for over a century. Professionally, they stood out as the elite because of their excellent command over the English language, their monopoly of the banking industry and the number of renowned doctors, lawyers, engineers, economists, scientists and senior civil servants that they produced.
However, their history is like that of a plant whose seed remained latent for years till one fine spring day, it started to blossom and bloom. Soon it became the most beautiful flowering tree in the garden and remained that way for years. But then slowly the flowers started to wilt and which is where the community stands today.
There are still some names that have worldwide recognition. Zubin Mehta, the maestro of several leading orchestras; Rohinton Mistry, a renowned Canadian author; the legendary rock star Freddy Mercury and Ratan Tata, the industrialist whose ancestors not only launched Air India, but today own a large slice of the European auto-manufacturing sector.
So where did this group of less than a hundred thousand originate? Their story is best told through a fable repeated many a time to Parsi children by their elders. Yet, with each new reiteration, the emphasis on the moral of the story keeps shifting. Often the stress is put on the determination and struggle it took in preserving the sacred fire, at other times on the shrewd negotiating tactics inbred within the psyche of the community and still on different occasions on the pacifistic nature of the Parsis.
According to the legend, approximately a thousand years ago, a few small boats with men, women and children onboard landed on the shores of Gujarat, India. They carried with them nothing except the clothes they were wearing, some Zoroastrian scriptures and an urn with a small fire which was most preciously protected. It is said that this little flame - which they nurtured night and day through the rough seas - had its origins from a bolt of lightning that came directly from the heavens. For two thousand years their ancestors had kept that flame ignited. But, with the invading forces of Arabs and the spread of Islam into Persia, the very existence of this godly link was threatened. In an endeavour to protect and preserve it, they sailed in search of more hospitable lands.
Upon arrival in India, they were received with utmost hospitality, yet were not given permission to reside permanently by the local ruler. He argued that his region was a nation of one language, one religion and one culture. Pointing to a glass filled to the brim with milk, he stated that his kingdom like the glass in front of them had no room for any foreign settlers. Hardly had he finished his sentence that he noticed one from amongst the group gently pour in some sugar into the mentioned glass of milk without causing any spillage. He then told the ruler, that if they were allowed to live in his kingdom, like with the glass of milk, they would dissolve into the community bringing it a sweeter flavour without displacing it. The group of Zoroastrians assembled in front of the ruler further assured him that they had no evangelical ambitions.
Thus is the story of the first Zoroastrian settlers in India who also came to be known as the Parsis. With passage of time, many left these small townships and moved to commercial centres like Mumbai and Karachi where they flourished. Even in these cities, they built Fire Temples keeping the three-millennium old flame ignited.
If one has even vaguely heard of the Parsis, it is likely because of their unique custom of disposing their dead in a circular amphitheatre like structure called the Tower of Silence. Here the corpses are left exposed to the sun and to birds of prey. Though once these facilities were on the periphery of the cities and surrounded by expanses of uninhabited land, today they are engulfed amidst high-rise buildings and congested streets. Hence, many in the community are now considering the option of cremation.
Presently conversion and cremation are the two main issues dividing the community. The more liberal ones are in favour of both while the orthodox prefer holding on to the traditional ways and values. Yet, both camps disapprove of burial as an option because the Zoroastrian faith sees it as desecrating mother earth and the environment.
The heyday of the Parsis was from the time of the Sepoy Mutiny till the Indian Independence. Most Parsis who lived under the rule of the Union Jack and the Crescent Star or Ashok Chakra would still have preferred to live under the former flag which in its divide and rule policy had made some communities more equal than others. The Parsis of India, though miniscule in number, had enjoyed an economic and social stature second only to that of the alien rulers. In return the Raj had brought about a cultural metamorphosis within this small community. The Parsis mimicked British institutions, such as, schools, colleges and clubs from their disciplinary rules to codes of dress. Porridge became as much a staple diet for mornings as sherry and scotch for the evenings. Even English eccentricities trickled down through literature. Jeeves had become a household name and British military marches stirred deep sentiments. Sir Edward Elgar’s Land of Hope and Glory became the Parsi anthem with its revised lyrics. And, no social gathering was complete without some pianist or baritone leading the crowd into a chorus of emotional frenzy with,
Children of the Royal Race of Noshirwan,
Rally round his banner, sing of old Iran
Charity and Ashoi, these are watch-words true,
Mazda Lord of Good Mind, ever will save you,
Mazda Lord of Good Mind, ever will save you.
Yet, nowhere was this transformation more evident than in their speech. The fashionable Parsis of high society spoke mainly in English and when on occasion their lips uttered sentences in their mother tongue Gujarati, it was inundated with English words and heavily accented with Anglicised enunciations. Other than reading material and personal association, the key facilitator for this transmutation was with the airing of the BBC’s Empire Service in 1932 which was later renamed the World Service. For even the untraveled Parsi, it became a window to the world from its broadcasting headquarters at Bush House in London. All wristwatches were synchronized with the radio’s time beeps. World news and sports were followed diligently and regardless of the quality of the reception because of stray atmospheric interferences, never was a play, recital or concerts ever missed. For the live relay of ‘Last Night at the Proms’ once a year, several would assemble at a Parsi home into the wee hours of the night where they would eat, drink and passionately rejoice in singing together, ‘Jerusalem’ and ‘Rule Britannia’ along with the broadcast. The only area where the Parsis did not budge was in accepting Christ as their eternal saviour. They cherished their Zoroastrian faith and remained grateful to their Lord Ahura Mazda for fashioning them more like the English than any other dominant group of the subcontinent.
It is then not surprising that a famous British essayist, whilst recently commenting on the postcolonial period, said, “the only true Englishmen left in the world today are the Parsis.”
