Navsari na Padshah ne Naman!

In the increasingly messy melee of the oncoming BPP elections, with anonymous messages circulating on Whatsapp and the Net, and rivalries at fever pitch, not enough note has been taken of a truly auspicious, momentous and historic occasion – the 250^th Salgreh of the Navsari Atash Behram on October 3, 2015!

To our mind, this Atash Behram is perhaps the only edifice we have that comes close to a cathedral – so majestic and resplendent is its makaan that houses the Holy Fire, and so mystical and magical are the images of our revered saints that have appeared on its marbled walls!

The Atash Behram has put out an appeal (carried in our Jame this week on Page 17), which fervently pleads for funds. In our humble opinion, it is the duty of every Parsi to send whatever sum they can afford to. Such occasions come but rarely and if we don’t help maintain our own religious places of worship then who will?

After all, what did we come to India for but to uphold and preserve our religion and race? Generations of our ancestors put the faith first and this is what has sustained the community.

The BPP was set up to protect the Doongerwadi lands in perpetuity and ensure that Dokhmenashini is not threatened. Our Agiaries and religious institutions are on covenanted lands meant exclusively for the use of Parsi/Irani Zoroastrians and all this was done by our forefathers to ensure that the faith and community stay secure.

Today, it has become fashionable to shrug off religious responsibility. Many aspiring BPP Trustees are glibly saying religion is a “personal” issue to justify their ‘sitting-on-the-fence’ attitude towards ensuring the sanctity of our time-honoured practices and faith.

Yes, religion is a deeply personal quest– but as co-religionists our responsibility towards both religious observance and adherence is collective.

As the Navsari Atash Behram's Padshah Saheb celebrates 250 years of enthronement and efficacious glory, may the flame of faith be reignited in us – especially those who aspire to lead our flock. 

Beware, chameleons are everywhere

 Appearances are deceptive – yet, this is a lesson almost none of us is willing to learn. We continue to get totally taken in by superficially impressive people!

Reports have been raging over the past few days, detailing Page 3 prima donna Indrani Mukerjea’s alleged crime – murdering her own daughter in cold blood.

It’s a case so grisly that it completely defies belief. However, there’s so much to be learnt from this sordid story.

To what depths of evil malevolence can a human being descend? How far will you let your ambition take you? Will greed for wealth and glamour make you disown your own children and lie to your spouse that they are your siblings? Does creating a fake world of showmanship matter more than being true to your soul?

There are countless Indranis everywhere. Outwardly chic and glamorous people, who are so desperate to take speedy shortcuts to name and fame that they’re willing to lead deceptive lives full of lies and falsehood. What they project is not who they are.

They hide their humble background, almost ashamed of their past, in a bid to create a flashy future at any cost. Nothing is sacred – not their parents, nor their spouse or friends. They use and abuse people as stepping stones, only to pelt them out of their path once their usefulness is over.

They think they’re smart – and more often than not succeed in outsmarting other simple folk who just cannot match their cunning, crafty ways. But divine justice has a way of catching up.

Sadly, this often happens too late in day when they have left a trail of havoc and devastation behind them.

This is why it is so crucial to be able to look through false appearances and make wise decisions about who to trust.

On a different but not entirely unrelated note, it’s equally important to be able to correctly judge people who are to assume public office and pole-vault into positions of leadership.

We’re soon going to be in the throes of the Bombay Parsi Punchayet election. Several candidates will exuberantly fling themselves into the fray, expecting us to lap up their well-crafted campaigns – but it’s up to us make the attempt to look through their facade, read between the lines and sharpen our own judgmental abilities. The wellbeing of the community will depend upon this.

Let’s work together to ensure we make the right choice – although it appears as though there may not be too much of a choice!

Send us your suggestions, questions and comments regarding the forthcoming elections. Our Facebook Page (Jam-e-Jamshed) is a beehive of activity and interactivity and much of the feedback is an eye-opener.

In the coming weeks, Jam-e-Jamshed will endeavour to be your voice. We will articulate your vision, concerns and aspirations for a clean, progressive and professionally-run Punchayet.

Do write to us and suggest the way ahead.

Empty lie our Agiaries

                                                                                                                                    Picture for representational purposes only

An interesting article caught our eye in The Times of India a few mornings ago. 

It spoke of GenNext turning to spirituality and seeking solace in religion in order to beat anxiety.

The writer was at pains to point out that in the megapolis of Mumbai, the young were increasingly drifting towards divinity in its myriad forms – yoga, meditation, scriptures, chanting, temple visits, Art of Living and what have you.

This observation, interesting as it appears, seems largely at odds with what we see within our community today. If the stark emptiness of our Agiaries is any indication, spiritualism and religion seem to have low priority (or no priority) across the community. 

The few who do make the effort of factoring faith into their daily (or weekly) roster and actually take the trouble of going to the Agiary/Atash Behram are generally the aged. They often defy infirmity to affirm their devotion with unwavering zeal. The rest falter at the altar.

There could be many reasons for this. 

South Mumbai is no longer the stronghold of the Parsis as a large chunk of the populace has shifted to the suburbs. Since the largest concentration of Agiaries is in this part of town, they tend to wear a desolate air. 

It is not uncommon to be the sole individual in an Agiary in and around the Fort area, at any given time, from early morning to late evening. A priest may be present – but only if it’s boi time. Otherwise, it’s an exclusive audience with Almighty and the Holy Fire, one-on-one, uninterrupted by human presence – save the portraits of illustrious ancestors looking down benevolently and, perhaps, wondering why they endowed the community with these beautiful abodes of faith if they were to remain empty!

The case is a little different in Agiaries that are attached to the Baugs – but only a little. Here, you will find the odd youngster popping in, generally before exam time. Few make daily worship a way of life.

Perhaps, it’s simply a sign of the times. Churches in the West also remain empty. As societies become affluent and self sustaining, faith is no longer their fulcrum. Adversity and misfortune seem to be far more conducive in coaxing communion with the Creator!

And, yet, till only two generations ago, Parsi families almost without exception nurtured staunch practices of the faith, including the divo at home, praying daily, visiting the Agiary regularly and, of course, leading an upright and illustrious life. Somehow, all this seamlessly integrated into a wholesome whole. 

Today, we are floundering on many fronts as a community – qualitatively and quantitatively. And our Agiaries are almost always empty. 

Who has the time for religion or spirituality? We’re too busy with our smartphones!

Big Fat Parsi Weddings

A young, middle-class Parsi couple decided to get married and their families met over dhan-daar and tareli machhi to discuss the details.

The bride’s mother, a large and loud lady, declared: “Let’s have a big fat Parsi wedding.”

Her not-so-large husband jibed, “With you in attendance, it will definitely be both big and fat!”

“That’s not what I meant,” she snapped. “I keep reading in the newspapers about all these fancy non-Parsi weddings – they call them big fat Indian weddings. Let’s have a Parsi equivalent.”

The groom’s mother nervously asked: “Doesn’t that sort of thing cost a lot of money? I read that a recent wedding cost over Rs. 50 crore and they had 6,500 guests.”

The bride’s mother beamed, “Aapre bhi kai evha tevha nathee. We can easily muster up 2000 guests. Tamhara bhi 1000 guests toh thussey?”

The groom’s father took out his hanky, wiped his forehead, and confessed: “We’re thinking of restricting our invitations to close family and friends, no more than about 350 people.”

The bride looked dejected. “Let’s discuss the functions. Apart from the engagement, madasoro, adarni etc., I’d like to have a mehendi and sangeet.”

Her father loudly protested, “Eh su badha naatak?”

The large mother snapped: “You have no clue what’s happening in the world. Nowadays our Parsis are having these functions also. Why should our daughter be deprived? At a recent high society parjat wedding they gifted foreign cars and European holidays to guests who attended the sangeet. See how they grandly celebrate their nuptials!”

The groom’s father spoke shakily: “How can we possibly match these rich non-Parsis? I have just managed to buy a Tata Indica. And we holiday every alternate year at one of the reasonable Parsi hotels in Panchgani.”

The bride demanded of the somberly silent groom: “Surely our honeymoon will be at some foreign location? And you must upgrade your car soon. Darling, please also tell your parents I like only diamond jewellery.”

Her mother added: “I read that a big fat wedding is incomplete without an event manager. Aapru Jame recently wrote about a few…”

At this point the bride’s father, somewhat embarrassed by the blabbering his wife and daughter, diplomatically concluded the meeting.

After they left, the groom’s mother fired him: “See how bossy the girl and her mother are. Tu saano gup chup baisee rahyo without saying a word? You will be totally henpecked.”

Her husband piped in: “My mother said the same thing at the time of our marriage – but I lived happily henpecked thereafter! So will our son.”

And so it came to pass that another big fat Parsi wedding was solemnized with pomp, show and an event manager!