The Last Dastur...
One
day as I was sitting amid all my relatives, while offering prayers for a
deceased dear one …my eyes went on to an old antique clock in the Agyari which
was about to strike nine in the morning. There was something fascinating about
this old antique clock! As I turned my head back to focus on the prayers, I
heard a sound of the Karasya falling on the hazy marble floor…and this sound
coincided with the sound of the old antique clock striking nine. As these
sounds in the background were captivating my attention, so was something even
more captivating in the foreground. Right in front of my eyes was a very ageing
old Dasturji … must be in his early eighties. Dressed in the flowing
transparent white muslin robe… with his wrinkles yelling for attention… his
hands were shivering, as he tried to pick up the Karasya. That moment it just
struck to me what if this aging old priest would be the last one on earth…the
old antique clock which had just struck nine took us all beyond time … a time when
this antique clock would be extinct enough to not even be called an antique
any more…
So
the epicentre of our story is the aging old Dasturji born in 2000 A.D. and our
focus is on the time much ahead of ours …2085 A.D. What follows is a
conversation between the aging old Dasturji, eighty-five years old, lying on
his deathbed; and the angel who has come to pick up his soul.
This
is entirely a work of fiction and any resemblance to name of individual, place,
institution existing or not is purely coincidental.
Surely
if you read between the lines…the message is intentional.
Nozzer Pardiwala
2085
A.D. Somewhere in India...
The dasturji is laying on his bed in a very dimly lit room…Suddenly a
white beam of light penetrating through a small slit in the window flashes upon
his closed eyes. Rubbing his eyes he reaches out for his spectacles kept on a
small side table besides a lamp… wearing his spectacles … trying to identify
who it is…
“Oh! So it’s you.” Still
lying on the bed … “You have finally come to take me along, May I say … please
have a seat.” … getting up with the support of his hands, sits up …
“I am sure you are not in
a hurry? Eighty five years of life and half an hour here and there… would ‘HE’
(pointing upwards with his half bent pointer finger…referring to almighty)
mind? I never knew you angels also wear white robes like us … white is truly a
divine color… let me show you mine”
Gets up from his bed … “These
solar lamps…they don’t really work the way we thought they would. As children
we just learnt about energy crisis never really thought we would face it in our
life time.” Gets hold of his white robe …tries to dab- away the dust on it … “I
wore a similar white Dugli … (tries
to dab away the dust on it) for the first time on my Navjote Day…5th June 2009. An odd time for a navjote though…but it was just the onset
of monsoon and no one really expected even a drizzle …the forecast was also for
a late monsoon… but it rained cats and dogs that day. As I diligently chanted
well memorized versus of the prayer, it was pouring … as if even the GODS up
there were showering their blessings on me. Would you care for a glass of
water, thank goodness for that, water is still not a rare commodity on this
planet. So where were we …yes my Navjote
Ceremony …you surely must be aware what Navjote
means … like they do the Janoi in the
Hindu’s … just in case you would not be
clear with the terminology.”
“It’s a ceremony that
transforms and transcends us from being only a Parsee to being a True Complete Zoroastrian.
At that time I had never thought I would one day myself do twenty-three Navjote ceremonies as a priest. Just six
years back I did two of them on the net and completed my silver jubilee.” (Sitting
on his easy chair) “In fact I have conducted more marriages as priest than Navjote . And all the couples blessed by
me have been happily married, at least as many as I Know of. Only one couple
died in an accident and two of them divorced. “Holding the robe in his hand. “But
the best part of my life was when I was in the process of being a Navar… The stringent rules of restraint
and self control purify your body … and the pious chants of the holy prayers
cleanse your soul. I was really amazed with myself because I never thought I
did like to go through all this as a child … but gradually as I stepped up the
ladder to finally becoming a navar. I
steadily started liking every bit of what I was put through … it’s that
closeness that you feel to the almighty as you gaze uninterrupted at the calm
and continuous fire ‘The Atash’ as
you chant those versus of the ‘Avestha’
is and unmatched feeling and no matter the distance no matter your eyes are
closed or open the warmth of The Atash still
touches your heart body mind and soul”
Starts coughing … can’t
stop coughing …coughs a lot …manages to take a deep breath, drinks a sip of
water…clears his throat…. “I think we are running out of time. Was that a
reminder?…any which ways don’t mind my talking too much … I was never like this
…as a child I was completely an introvert and spoke only as much as was needed
and sometimes even managed with just a nod and saved on a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.”
“It always seemed to me
that people around me talked so much that I never got a chance to even begin…”
“But as I grew in age …
met new people broke off the cocoon I always was shielded in…I felt I was out
from the long never ending hibernation of sorts …the saga of self prosecution
was over. I changed and changed for the better… with every growing hair of my
moustache and every passing year of my age… But it seemed people all around me
were still the same…stagnated …sometimes stinking enough to be avoided…
My little pet dog ‘Rexy’
never got over his fear of cats …and got bitten by one so wildly that it
actually succumbed to its wounds.
My friend ‘Rohit’ who had
hair all over his body, where it should be and where they should not be…puffed
away his early teenage life into smoke of cigarettes just because he thought it
to be macho…but still wore his pants with his mothers help… it would have
sounded an exaggeration to me too if I would not have witnessed it myself.
My aunt ‘Amy’ who would
attend all weddings and navjote and uthamna with equal enthusiasm because
she loved herself, her collection of saris and her innumerable broaches … her
white chiffons with border for the uthamna
would be as stunning as her colourful net and German lace saris she wore for
other occasions.
My elder sister ‘Nargish’
for whom I was a child till last year when she died at the age of
ninety-two…yes she was elder to me but she failed to realize that I was growing
up wit her. She called me ‘Sohli’ when people started calling me ‘Sohrab’. She
called me ‘Sohli’ when people called me ‘Master Sohrab’. She continued even
when the courier boy knocked at the door and said, ‘It’s a letter for Mr.
Sohrab’. She never stopped even when my wife started calling me ‘Sohrab Darling’
and she never ceased to do so till she met me last before ‘her last’ … ‘Sohli I
am going before you …’.
My mom “Jallu” for whom I
was like the only heir of a kingdom … who had to be protected from everyone
around…or the kingdom would be lost. She protected me right from a mosquito
bite to all my non-Parsee girlfriends …her love for me never changed but she
didn’t realize when it crossed over the thin line and became obsession…which
shunned me away from her.
My father ‘Jamsheed’ …my
idol… I loved him so much… because he allowed me to do whatever I was
restricted from doing… he checked my wallet and drawer …not for cigarettes or
condoms but to check how much money I was left with…so he could replenish it
from time to time… he left us quite early for his heavenly abode…
My cousin ‘Adil’ who
always boasted of his new toys, his new T-shirt, his new motor-bike, his newly
developed biceps, his new…excuse me …his wife…he boasted of practically
everything he had …his father, my uncle ‘Jimmy’ wanted him to be a navar… that’s the only thing he could
not boast of… he took up a job at a call center…and than at a bank and than at
a car showroom …and than…and than all his life kept boasting about his new
jobs.”
“My grandma ‘Hufrish’
…she was an epitome of strength …her face skin was as soft as a baby and had a
glow of an energetic teenager…her eyes spoke it all… reservoir of wisdom…I
never saw them moist…her wisdom and her sagging upper arm muscles(I often liked
to fondle with) were the only proof of her aging.”
“At any point of time in
life I felt all down, shattered and felt I was going to crumble like a pack of
cards I went up to her and you know why I did so? Because she allowed me to crumble…she
always said… ‘cry if you are hurt, scream if you are scared, rest if you are
tired…crumble if you are burdened… because only when you crumble …you gather
those broken pieces…and only than do you discover your strength you utilized to
get things right in place.’
All the others were human
excusing my pet dog Rexi and could be forgiven for their unexplained fears,
their immaturity, their ediosynchrocis, their possessiveness, their obsession,
their weaknesses and their complexes… like I am forgiven today for errors and
bigger errors or shall I say sins that I committed, knowingly or unknowingly…
surely you look like an angel from heaven and I am sure I shall meet them all
there where we all belong even after committing ‘Human Crimes’ which we human do
not forget so easily on this planet called earth but are so easily forgiven by
Lord Almighty.”
“But granny was the one
who changed… in fact changed wouldn’t be the correct word… she molded herself
as per the changes around her … Generally the words ‘old and orthodox’ go hand
in hand…but she was not at all …Orthodox in her thoughts and way of life…
rather I would say she was ‘Old and Contemporary’.”
“Even when it came to our
discussions in the family about religion… she sounded like the voice of the new
generation… If not for her, ‘Nargish’ my sister couldn’t have married a non-Parsee.
I learnt ingrained and embedded lots of her in me and so I too changed and
adapted myself to the changing times.”
“I was fortunate to be
born in times of modernization and modernization in the true sense …buying
grocery from a mall… watching movies at the multiplexes…my first mobile phone
when I was only nine, a laptop when I was thirteen…it was abundance everywhere
…not only were the rich and upper-class enjoying their riches with modern
jigmoes of comfort and sophistication…but also were the better half of Indian
social strata enjoying the fruits of consumerism, competition and borrowed
money for needs and unfulfilled dreams. Things were changing at such rapid
pace…there would be new cars…every month, new mobile models every week…and
whosoever told modernization and mechanization creates unemployment…in-fact,
there were new job opportunities and newer avenues for business… right from
baby nappies to life saving drugs…dressing sense to … social behavioral
codes…everything … But sadly what was not changing was our educational system
and our age old decaying erroneous
religious beliefs.”
“Like my Granny always
said… ‘A woodpecker cannot make a home in the bark of a tree by just one strike
of its strong beak… it needs strike after strike and lots of perseverance. Similarly
religious beliefs do not change at the stroke of an hour… what it needs is a
revolution.’
She was so very right…
fortunately or unfortunately I was a part of this religious system, which I
followed and preached each day and desperately wanted to change.”
“Fortunate because it
could have been easier for me to be in there and bring about changes and
unfortunate because it wasn’t so easy to be in there and change a system you
are a part of.”
“There is no official
training given for taking a bribe but still inefficient individuals do it so
efficiently. It’s a craft not to be learnt, it comes naturally to some. I too
learnt the exact pronunciations and meanings of each and every word of the prayers…
but no body taught me how to recite it fast in one breath when busy people run
out of time…I learnt it all by myself on the job… and some of my colleagues did
it so very efficiently as a routine. Till I was young naïve eager to please
everyone, I did follow the routine till it turned to monotony and the rational
side in me started questioning why?”
“I was a dastur…Yes! And so was I young…I worked
all day long at the agyari like any
other average youth and so I also did visit the pub at night with my friends.
Though I never touched a cigarette…but I had friends who did so, some of them
being Parsees themselves. I knew it was against our religion as we worship the
fire god… but I never could stop them …because didn’t they too knew it very
well.”
“I never found any
difference in the apple the Bhaiya
(fruit seller) kept shinning with his dhoti
and the apple in the chasni. I knew
there were prayers to cleanse it too but how could I or for that matter anyone cleanse
something so pure fresh and truly gods own creation like a fruit.
Many a times I visited
people’s houses for jashan. I and my
senior would commute by a cool cab (taxi) the afargan being between the two of us. Can you believe if I said we
actually kept a cloth on the seat and than the afargan on it… in the beginning I thought it’s correct to maintain
the purity… but when I came to know my senior’s reason for doing so…it sounded
hilarious… he did so because he thought that some woman in her ovulation period
would have graced the seat before us…
Oh Lord Ahura Mazda
…sorry for we follow your religious preaching and pursuits with due respect and
full faith but we are human, unlike you and so we do commit errors of
misunderstanding your preaching’s to suit over individual beliefs.”
“Revolution…yes it was
needed but at that point of time it was a revolution within me … neither could
I change things nor could I take them without a rational explanation and worst…
plenty of times there wasn’t any. What was amazing to see was almost all of us accept, believe, follow and than preach it to others what we acquire from our preceding
generations, we change omit and alter the doctrines of our religion as per our
convenience and most suited to our changing environment. We enjoy the delicious
charam nu dhansak sometimes more than we think of the deceased dear
one without even giving it a thought to the fact that the butcher who cut the
goat’s throat to bring those delicious, soft pieces of meat to our palate was
not a Parsee and no priest ever said any prayers to cleanse the same.”
“We raise a toast to
life, death, happiness, birth, marriage and practically every milestone of our
life…we are a fun loving out going socially modern community…BUT… when it comes
to religion the Doors of the agyari
are closed. You must be wondering this old man is getting so aggressive … yes
it boils my blood even today when I have very little of it left… when I hear
this never ending saga of ‘We are going to become extinct’.
I wonder who we are
referring to when we say ‘WE’ …
We the little few Parsees
in Mumbai…
We the little more in
India…
We the little many
Zoroastrians in the world or Zoroastrianism as a faith!
I heard it when I was sixteen and I heard it
when I was sixty and I still keep hearing it.
Zoroastrianism has
survived the testing times of invasion, usurping of dynasties and the onslaught
of fate… but it has still survived and in 2085 we are not anywhere near Extinct
or so less in number that we will be extinct in the near future. And do you
know why? Because messenger of god are born and they depart… people are born
and they die…but religion as a faith is immortal like the rays of the sun’s
light…and who can diminish or blow off the continuously burning flame of fire
The Atash which is itself blessed by
The Sun. So till life is …sun is …and till the sun is … Zoroastrianism is.”
“I hope I am not boring
you with my monologue on religion…I must be sounding like a Sermon giving old
priest.”
(Getting up from the
easy-chair looking at the watch)
“It has been quite some
time … they say when you are about to die your whole life flashes upon In front
of your eyes…and look here how lucky one can get …I am actually sitting there
and sharing almost every moment of my life with Mr. Angel himself…but truly it
feels I am reliving each breath as a I am speaking to you.”
“We Parsees are known for
two things …our so called sweet language and Patra ni Machi of course there are other delicacies too synonym to
us and the right place to find all of them in one platter or shall I say Patra, is a Parsee wedding. It’s like a
kings feast… everything is lavish the lights, the flowers, the music the Korwali saris the spic and span white daglis and just next in rank of
importance to the bride and bridegroom is the food…egg, chicken, mutton, fish
you find it all. The best wedding I visited till date is …mine …19th
December 2030. I married very young …don’t be surprised we Parsees are till
date known for marrying late and dieing late too. Why it was the best wedding
because I tied the knot with my beloved wife Zarine and that was the one
marriage in longtime which had the patra system.
By that time buffet were common, convenient and fashionable. We decided to
stick to conventional order.
A beautiful, loving,
caring, sometimes temperamental and a wonderful home-maker wife. Two loving,
adorable, intelligent children.
A permanent, respectful,
lucrative, clean and pious job. What else could I have asked for? I was not
only satisfied but content with life… the revolution that had just begun within
had also fizzled off after the initial effervescence.
But granny always said ‘a
revolution always ends with thousands of heads being slain and lakhs of them
held high but it begins in one mind.’
After working at three
different Agyaris two at Mumbai and one
at Poona in a span of eighteen years I was offered the job at a dungarwadi at the age of thirty-nine.
The effervescence that had fizzled off had just found a new vent to erupt like a
volcano.
I learnt the harshest
lessons of life in a place where I was surrounded by death and the dead every
day. Like my early days at Agyari I
kept following the rituals religiously and did my job faithfully until one day…
‘Nargish’ my sister who had
married a non-Parsee lost her son … my nephew ‘Khusroo’ at the tender age of twenty-one. Though, against the
displeasure of some and against all odds Khusroo
was a Zoroastrian as I myself had done his navjote
in Delhi. He could have been cremated there but just to put her son’s body
through the last rites and rituals as per the Zoroastrian customs she brought
him here to our city and of course she knew I was there if anything went wrong.
She was correct I was there and things did go wrong but I could not do a thing.
Firstly, on seeing his
fathers name on his form for admission to the tower of silence was not
accepted. I stood there trying helplessly to use my influence but I was just an
employee and the strings of control were in hands of higher authorities who
chose to believe differently. Finally with lots of hallabu and bending of rules
he was allowed to die respectfully. But my sister Nargish could shed her tears only outside the Bangli as she had done the crime of marrying outside the community
and she had done even a bigger crime of consummating the marriage. Owing to
which though her Navjote was done but
she was no longer considered to be a part of the community.”
“And I like a coward,
helpless, grieved uncle hid my tears behind the smoke mask and chanted the
prayers all four days through, as I saw my young 21 year old nephew lying on
the marble stone and peeped a glanced at Nargish
through the gap in the door I felt deceived, hurt, humiliated and felt like
crumbling down and Granny wasn’t there. But a few drops from her reservoir of
wisdom were lying somewhere in the corner of my being, those two drops and
those many drops of tears which I never managed to roll off my eyes, all I
gathered poised myself and as I walked pass Nargishi’s
questioning eyes with Khusroo’s Ruvan,
with every step and every chant towards the Dokhma.
I promised myself, Nargish, Khusroo
and Granny that never shall anyone after that day be humiliated and be deprived in a similar
manner the right to the last rites.
Four days were over Charam nu Dhansak was done with; I had lots
of work to do and no time to spare. I started with writing letters to self
proclaimed Supremoes of the community, even wrote letter of humble request to
our Parsee community in the Jame-Jamshed
the news letter, the voice of Parsees. ( Going near his old chest draw he opens
the drawer and removes a file of letters and newspaper cuttings, manages to get
the cutting of the Jame-Jamshed
letter) here it’s old, dusty and frayed but the words are still clear as they not so very clearly echo in my conscience.”
‘To all my
Parsee brethren
‘Parsee thy name
charity’, ‘The pioneers’, are some of the many adjectives attached to us. Sir
Jamshedji Tata, Dadabhai Navrojji…Parsees have always contributed to the cause
of the nation. As citizens of India we have always been in the forefront of our
countries progress. As a part of the society we are pretty friendly, social,
outgoing and free with our sense of dressing. For us short skirts, middies, and
minis are pretty comfy, having a peg of wine or whisky in front of our young
children pretty normal and a way of life, But when it comes to religion why are
we so closed and secretive. I wonder seeing the closed doors of Agyaris wouldn’t Lord Ahura Mazda feel claustrophobic. Why? Why are the doctrines of
our religion, the ash of sandalwood, the chasni
offered in prayers, the immortal fire hidden from people of other religion?
An agricultural nation
like India has changed with times and allowed foreign investments. The cola war
continues and so does farming. So why do we forget we are Indians first and Parsees
later. This is the land and these are the people who offered us place to stay,
shared their culture, food and love. Than why couldn’t we share the doctrines
of our religion? Why do we live in a country which we call ours but love to be
called foreigners? Religion has been defined as – System of faith and worship,
human recognition of superhuman controlling power. We have proved to be
faithful to this system to such an extent that we could be called traitors of
the land.
Religion is what we
acquire by birth and not choice. I am sure if it was based on choice many of us
would have chosen to be a Christian, A Hindu or for that matter a Zoroastrian.
But by birth we are Parsees and the Sudra
and Kusti make us Zoroastrian to the
core. Are we insecure when it concerns religion or is it that we are carrying
on a blind faith put into our minds and inscribed on the wall of our Agyaris, by our ancestors? Isn’t it time
to open up our eyes scratch of those inscriptions ‘Only Parsees allowed in the
fire temple’. Isn’t it time to open those closed doors of agyaris for all mankind. Share our doctrines, our chasni, the ash
of sandalwood and the warmth of our fire with people of all religion alike. We
are isolating ourselves from others. It’s high time we stop lamenting over our
minority status. If we utilize our time, effort and energy for bringing about a
revolutionary reform rather than just crying about how less in number we are, I
think we could be a much stronger community even with the less number.’
(Folding the paper
cutting and keeping it away) “To my surprise I was not the only one who felt
like this there were many others who believed so and I got a huge response and
letters of support from many of them, some even called personally at Jame-Jamshed office and asked me to hold
open forums. But there were many others who still were not ready to evolve and
there were equal number of letters of criticism. Many even called to argue
endlessly and thought I was overreacting to a personal crisis. Actions and
reactions, seminars, forums, open discussions…it was 2047 inter-cast marriages
because of non availability of suitable partners were as common as common cold,
induced by pollution. Open forums would have full houses… people would vent out
their pent up rage freely, most of them being young and not so very young who
had married outside the community. Not only did common people of our community
come forward but also the rich and famous. Many of them; being lawyers, actors,
doctors, business tycoons, politicians who voiced their opinion too.”
“This brought the
superpower of our times ‘The Media’ into play. The journey which started with
that one article in Jame had now
reached its epitome, leading newspapers, television it was all over the place.
But our community’s decency levels are too high to come out on streets and
revolt. That never happened.
Granny would be happy …it
had begun … the revolution. What would be the outcome of this in the long run,
I never knew but surely its immediate effect was on my job…initially I thought
I was summoned to be sacked but I was promoted and made the in-charge there. I
was shocked; yes surprised equally but as I came out of these initial feelings
of shock and surprise I realized what was happening and why. Now I was given
the authority and the power to take decisions, for some of which I would be
felicitated and for some of which I would be bashed up for. No one else but I
would be responsible for decisions taken. I didn’t mind. What I did not very
soon realize was there were some other very grave problems I had to deal with.
The Khandyas were too less in number.
Sometimes so less that the bodies would have to wait at banglis. I had heard of burials in other cities and seen a few my-self
too but Parsees in our city still continued to follow rituals blindly enough
not to even notice the leaning walls of banglis,
the reducing number of dasturs and
the vanishing khandyas. There were
group of Parsee men who volunteered as khandyas,
but most of them had to be contacted and would be available only at their
convenience.
The tragic scene was at
times when there would be eight to ten deaths together…later members of the
family had to volunteer… and nobody ever bothered to read the very old corroded
iron board carrying the instructions for no entry of any other person beyond
the white marble stone just outside the entry point of the Dokhma, it was so dusty and scrapped, even some words were not
legible and no one was even interested in reading or following it either.
Sometimes I would smile sarcastically at those who believed we were going to
become extinct and sometimes I laughed smirking at myself… when I was told the
vultures had long given way to eagles and kites at the Dokhma.
I realized as an
individual when my dad or mom or my Uncle ‘Sam’
or my aunt ‘Perin’ or any other
Parsee on this earth visited the Dungarwadi
never really gave it a thought to these other aspects. We would discuss it
like we discuss the weather, the new ruling party …at the Uthamna on the benches outside … but never really did anything
drastic to contribute to our community’s progress. The leaking roofs, peeling plaster
and aging stones could be replaced and repaired but what would we do if less
and less number of Dasturs offered
their services at the Dungarwadi,
Khandyas as a sect was no more and vultures were no longer blessing us with
their presence in the deep, green, serene, passive, silent woods of the Dungarwadi.
I had read about Gandhiji
and his means of attaining freedom his praises and his criticisms. I wondered at
times how this one man could lead the entire enslaved nation…educated,
illiterate, rich and poor alike to the path of freedom.”
“My cousin ‘Adil’ who had settled in the U.S.A. and
a few of my relatives in Australia and New- Zealand had been briefing me about how
customs and traditions were already being mended as per their needs and
surroundings there. Once when I received an e-mail from my cousin ‘Adil’ that there was a Jashan in his house and his non Parsee
wife was also present for the Jashan and
so was the Dasturji’s Italian wife…I
was amazed and even more so to know that the Dasturji’s Italian wife had cooked
up the Malida for the Jashan herself.
Purity!
Be preserved.
My sister-in-law Willoo, who had settled in Australia
told me how they had formed a Zoroastrian Association there and talked of those
few Navjotes which were done in
presence of human of all race.
Purity!
Be preserved.
I laughed at myself and
thought how foolishly I and my counterparts drove away those non-Parsees out of
the ceremony of Navjote and didn’t
allow them to touch the boy or girl whose navjote
was about to begin, after the Nahn Navhani ceremony.
Purity!
Be preserved.
A friend of mine from my navar days who had based himself at
Delhi told me how he proclaimed on a television channel in a chat show that he
does the Aashirwaad Sarwani ceremony even if one of the spouses would be a
non-parsee.
Purity!
Be preserved.”
“What were we few people
of some long transformed race in some small part of the universe trying to
preserve. Purity, What Purity?
I realized things were
changing much before me and would change many fold even after me. The point was
our community needed a ‘Mahatma Gandhi’ to guide us to the right path not a
bunch of Associations who would do their own things. We needed a Centralized
governing and guiding force not heterogeneous sects emerging from rebellious
outcast marriages.
Yes the truth stands loud
and clear many a few hundreds lost their lives for the nation’s freedom but we
attained freedom and true freedom only under the one formidable Man we all
called ‘Bapu’.
But unfortunately for our
community we were neither united nor moving towards one goal. We were all
moving in different directions, lost and misguided by self. Our goal was to
preserve the purity of our religion and make this birth of ours the last. That
is it.
Firstly we needed a goal,
what had we all set out for…Increasing the number of Zoroastrian …If this was
the goal…that wouldn’t be possible if we would continue eliminating Parsee
girls marrying outside the community, denying her child the right to choose to
be a Zoroastrian. Rather welcome her to the community with her spouse and
children if they choose to and then
the simple rule of mathematics says one and two makes three. That would
definitely add up-to a reasonably good number to not get nightmares of
extinction.
We made a promise to the
then King of the coast we landed on of not continuing with conversions in the
times when conversions were forcefully done and that too with different motives
all together. Shouldn’t there be some form of evolving from then and now. By
even accepting people into our religion by their choice we are just being a
part of a democratic and rational society.
And I suppose that’s the
only rational step that was left to be taken to preserve and perpetuate our
kind. And let me tell you this MR. Angel that’s what exactly happened and here
in 2085 A.D. I stand in front of you ready to leave for my final journey, but
surely I am happy, not content though that Zoroastrianism as a faith has
emerged and evolved as a homogenous religion and not disintegrated as multiple
miniature sects. Thanks to the awakening of young and old alike of our
community we no more have boards hanging out at Parsee fire temple reading as ‘Non-Parsees
not allowed’. But see I am not content as yet, as reality had to unfold the way
we dreaded…”
“We are left with no khandyas … only family members do the
needful …
We are left with no more
vultures … only solar panels do the needful…
We are left with only two
agyaris in Mumbai very few all over
the world…community prayer halls do the needful…
We have a sizeable number
of followers and believers in our rituals now but none to preach and conduct
them. We are left with only one last Dastur
that’s me … ‘Dastur Sohrabji’ … who
shall now do the needful?” ….
The satellite phone
rings… “Excuse me that’s for me … I have been waiting for it all this while.”
“Hello!” ….listens to the
other person on the other side …looks at the angel and says … “It’s a baby boy”
…On the phone… “Don’t be worried about me ‘Zarine’
I have company here, you take care…and do not forget the CD Rom , my kusti and my muslin robe …no…no don’t
bother …I am absolutely fine and in good company” coughs and keeps the phone.
“Now I think it’s the final
call … I have been holding you back for quite long … that’s the reason why … ‘Zarine’ my daughter in law was due and
she has just delivered a boy…I lost my son two months ago in a terrorist attack…
so that makes me the only Dastur… but
not any more…
‘Yazad’
has
arrived… he shall take over the reigns …
‘Yazad’ … my grandson … his dad
and ‘Zarine’ had thought of the name
already…you must surely be aware of its meaning … it’s one of the first names of
the hundred and one names of lord ‘Ahura Mazda’ …Yaz…”
Reference Words:
Dastur- Priest of the Parsee Community.
Agyari- Place of worship (Temple) of Parsee Community.
Karasya- A metal pot for holding water during rituals.
Dugli- A white robe worn by Parsees during religious ceremonies.
Navjote- A religious ceremony of initiation of young Parsee Boy or Girl into the Zoroastrian
Navar- A Parsee boy who is being trained for becoming a priest.
Atash- Fire God
Avestha- Religious book of Parsees.
Uthamna- A prayer meet in memory of a deceased one.
Jashan- Prayers performed by priests.
Afargan- A metal container used for burning sandalwood.
Caharam nu Dahnsak- A food preparation of brown rice and dal cooked with meat on fourth day in memory of deceased one.
Patari ni machi- A Parsee delicacy made of fish wrapped in green leaf.
Dungarwadi- A place where last rites are performed.
Bungli- A closed room in dungarwadi where prayers are held.
Ruvan- Soul
Dokhma- The well where the body of deceased is placed to be eaten by the vultures.
Kusti- A religious thread worn around the waist.
Sudra- A religious vest.
Chasni- Offerings in prayers.
Khandyas- Men who carry the body to the Dokhma.
Malida- Sweet preparation as offering in prayers.
Nahn Navhanu- Holy bath before the navjote ceremony.
Ashirwad Sarwanu- wedding ceremony.
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