What is the roz and mah today?

The Parsi calendar still retains its significance

 A few days before the muktads (all souls days), Parsi establishments like the Union Press [printers of lagan ni chithis (wedding invitations)], Karani Brothers (prayer book publishers), Kersaasp Kolah [gor keri nu achaar (makers of jaggery and mango pickle)] and K. Wadia (diamond jewellers) would print and distribute the Parsi calendar, always in red, print bold enough for the visually impaired to read, rolled cylindrically (one had to straighten it by putting it under the mattress for one night), to be hung on the wall proudly below Zarthost saheb’s frame. Some calendars were plain vanilla, while others provided details of the salgirehs (birthdays) of popular agiaries and atash behrams; the eight chogadiyas of day and night (12 hours of day and 12 of night sub divided into eight sub periods of propitious timing; classified as excellent, auspicious, favorable, neutral, beneficial, malevolent, inauspicious and inimical). Those were the days, my friend, when children learnt by rote the 30 days and 12 months of the Parsi calendar. (Today, most children ask, “What is a Parsi calendar?”)

The roz nu varas (birthday according to the Parsi calendar) would precede the Gregorian birthday according to a simple formula: divide your age by four; if you are 16, the Parsi birthday will precede your birthday by four days, and if you are 100 by 25 days. If you prayed everyday, you would know the roz and mah easily; if you prayed sometimes, then you could always sneak a sly look at the agiary calendar. Even if you could no longer rattle off all the names, at least you were expected to know the roz and mah of your birthday and those of others in the immediate family. The Parsi birthday, which once upon a time was the only birthday celebrated, has now become a low key dress rehearsal for the “English” birthday, as it has been dubbed. On the Parsi one, you eat sev (vermicelli fried brown and garnished with thinly sliced almonds and raisins) and dahi (plain yoghurt); offer sandalwood and light a divo at the agiary; and maybe have dinner at a restaurant.

Apart from birthdays, practising Zoroastrians still remember certain days of the Parsi calendar with reverence. Meher mah and Meher roz is the day you visit the boon-bestowing popular Aslaji Agiary at Grant Road; if you are not an early bird, you will have to await your turn to worship the holy fire after jostling with stout humdins, some of whom stand transfixed praying for their extended family, while those behind them try hard not to commit the sin of uttering colorful expletives in the agiary. The other parav (when the same Ameshaspand presides over both the roz and mah on a day) is Avan mah né Avan roz. The infallible wish fulfiller, Avan Ardavisur banu is famous for granting legitimate boons (if you really desire something, the universe will conspire to give it to you), and her yasht, the longest in the Khordeh Avesta, if recited with dedication and a clean heart, can be miraculous. Even if you recite it only once, on her parav, but without missing a single year, she is mighty pleased. We know friends who pencil these paravs in their diary, electronic or otherwise, and will just not miss a single year, even if there is a death in the family on that day and whether they are in Paris or Poona.

Most Parsi calendars highlight two other important days — Zamyad roz and Avan mah; Govad roz and Dae mah — on which devout humdins perform baaj prayers on the death anniversary of Dastur Jamshed Kookadaru and a behdin called Homaji. If, like the Catholics, we granted sainthood (on second thoughts, thank God, we don’t), without the slightest doubt the pious Dastur would be the first to be beatified. Panthaky of the Kappawala Agiary for 43 years, his miracles of healing, both physically and spiritually, including alchemically turning a brick into gold to finance the exact deficiency of funds needed for construction of the Anjuman Atash Behram, are legendary. His is a living presence, reverentially worshipped even today.

The behdin, Homaji, was falsely framed in a murder charge of having kicked a pregnant woman and hanged publicly. He was exonerated after his death and, as foretold by him at the gallows, his accuser did not survive Homaji’s uthamna. He is a symbol of the spiritual power of a crucified innocent.

A brilliant solicitor and partner in a law firm of antiquity, now no longer alive, would daily consult the Parsi calendar to know the birthday of every agiary in Bombay and Thana, which he would first visit and worship, reaching office at tea time.

On Adar mah, Adar roz, Parsis would paint an afarganyu on the kitchen tiles near the cooking gas stove and celebrate the fires. On Bahman mah, Bahman roz, they would eat khichdi né koru (yellow rice and pumpkin purée) and children would visit homes like a desi version of Halloween, selling homemade jellies (that was 50 years ago in Navsari). On Fravardin parav, Parsis visit the towers of silence and remember the deceased. On the Kadmi New Year Iranis would place cucumbers and other foodstuff favoured by their dear departed near the dakhmas until some sourpuss in the Bombay Parsi Punchayet banned it (we are told the Iranis are thinking of finding substitutes for the cucumbers to place at the dakhmas). Come Dae mah, the Parsi staff of big and small Parsi establishments, be they banks or public sector companies, have jashans performed. The muktads start on Ashtad roz né Spandarmard mah leading to the five Gatha days when there is no roz and no mah (if you pass to the great beyond during Gatha days, on which day will your masiso (first month after death) and chhamsi (sixth month after death) fall is a riddle you can ask Ervad (Dr) Ramiyar Karanjia, the only sensible learned priest, or continue to survive on the ventilator until Hormazd roz and Fravardin mah, that is the Parsi New Year.

Apart from the Shahenshahi calendar, there also are the Fasli and the Kadmi calendars. Only The Mumbai Samachar publishes daily entries from these calendars, in its daily panchang column.

A typical Parsi household would proudly display the Prophet’s portrait and the Parsi calendar in the living room; these days it remains hidden in the wardrobe, to be stealthily consulted. Unopened cylindrical calendars are being used by children as mock swords. Some of  the Parsi establishments which published them have themselves disappeared. Only this publication reminds its readers about the soon to be forgotten calendar by printing it in one of its issues. A culture or civilization whose calendar is rarely consulted is being badly ravaged by time.

Berjis M. Desai

Matchmaking still works

Matrimonial efforts are among the few constructive activities being pursued by the Bombay Parsi Punchayet these days

In Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Ms Bennett spends most of her waking hours in trying to get her five daughters married. No Parsi mother has five daughters, and even if someone did, she may not care less. Marriage is not an aspirational matter for the community. On the contrary, for some it is almost fashionable to be unmarried. To make a provocative and unscientific generalization, Parsi men in the matrimonial market are insipid and unexciting, while their female counterparts are overtly aggressive. The more educated and the more affluent tend to marry interfaith. We seldom distinguish between sons and daughters in matters of inheritance. Women are most certainly not unequal. Pre-marital and extra marital sex is not such a taboo any more. Most women work and there is little economic compulsion to marry. We are not children obsessed, like other communities. Bachelors and spinsters are envied; not looked down upon. All this makes for a deadly cocktail of dramatically falling marriage rates.

If one were to analyze the statistical trends published by this publication, at first blush it may appear that more and more Parsis are marrying interfaith. The number of Parsi marriages is declining at a rapid rate, while the number of interfaith marriages is rising. In 1989, 383 Parsi marriages were listed as versus 62 interfaith. In 2013, only 156 Parsi marriages were listed while the interfaith increased to 98. We are dealing with those Parsis who will not marry interfaith but also find their own kind uninteresting. Most in this category are more steeped in Parsi religion and culture. They just cannot imagine living, on a day-to-day basis, with non-Parsis. They cannot withstand any intercultural shock. Matchmaking comes into play here. These Parsis may not bother going to a restaurant but don’t mind being spoon fed. Matrimonial advertisements and kaajwallis (traditional matchmakers, usually women, who operate by word of mouth) are no longer effective. Mutual friends may arrange a meeting or two, but hardened singles will not vigorously follow up.

The Bombay Parsi Punchayet (BPP), the Zoroastrian Youth for the Next Generation and a few other Parsi organizations arrange mass dating, picnics and social gatherings to create mating opportunities for singles. Most of the organizers not only take the horse to the water but also make it drink. A majority of the candidates are in their mid thirties to mid forties and expectations are not too high. The strike rate may not be great but it is well worth the exercise. If these combined matchmaking activities can result in 50 more marriages every year and about 50 more children, there is hope yet for the community.

Divorcing under Parsi matrimonial laws is not too easy, and woe betide if it is a contested divorce. Again, unscientifically speaking, the rate of divorce in such matched marriages is lower than in love marriages. Cultural homogeneity ensures easier adjustment. The differences are usually trivial (you cannot make bheeda per eedoo like my Mumma). Most of the matched ones come from the middle classes and predominantly from the baugs. Emphasis is more on steady companionship rather than pulsating romance. Familiarity with the B. D. Petit Parsee General Hospital wards scores more brownie points than attending a concert at the National Centre for the Performing Arts. In any event, the matchmakers do not target the “caviar” Parsis but the “masoor-pau” ones; admirers of Rafi and Asha Bhosle rather than Zubin Mehta or Freddie Mercury. This class requires external intervention to goad them into matrimony. Once they tie the knot, however, they are most likely to make a decent try at begetting a child or two.

The BPP can provide them with priority, out-of-turn housing allotment, which is a huge attraction to would-be wedders. Can this result in marriages of convenience, like marrying a US or British citizen to get right of residence? Unlikely, in the present situation.

For those who spurn these matchmaking efforts, here is some stellar advice from that shrewd observer of men and matrimony, Jane Austen herself: “Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.”

Of course, Jane Austen herself, like our Dolly from Cusrow Baug, never married.

Berjis M. Desai

NON-PARSI BELIEVERS ARE ON THE RISE

A surprising number of non-Parsis have faith in Zoroastrian prayers

There is this anecdote about a solitary fisherman’s tiny boat being tossed around in stormy waters with the shore nowhere in sight. A few years earlier this fisherman had witnessed, in a similar situation, his Parsi master reciting the Yatha Ahu Vairyo after which the sea suddenly turned benign, thus saving precious lives. However, the only word the fisherman could remember was “Thavario.” 

With great devotion and faith, he started chanting, “Parsi taro Thavario (Parsi, your Thavario).” The miracle is said to have occurred again: the stormy skies cleared and the wind dropped.

In those towns of Gujarat which have an agiary it is commonplace for non-Parsis to hand over sandalwood sticks to Parsis entering the fire temple and requesting them to light a divo. Barring some occasional oddball, Parsis would gracefully accede to this touching request.

Even in Udvada non-Parsis buy sandalwood and leave it at the Iranshah gate.  In the 1940s when the revered Sardar Dastur Noshirwan Dastur, designated Head Priest of the Deccan, was in charge of Poona’s Sardar Sorabji Patel Agiary in Nana Peth (Gaam ni Agiary), it was widely known that non-Parsis would leave sandalwood outside the fire temple as offerings to the atash padshah. The benign priest, noted for his spiritual aura, would also reportedly receive written requests (which were tied to the branches of a pomegranate tree in the compound) asking him to make special intercessions on their behalf to solve the problems they were facing.

This now occurs in Bombay as well. On Meher mah, Meher roz, as the queue winds its way through the narrow lane leading to the famed Aslaji Agiary, non-Parsis can be seen handing money to Parsi devotees to offer sandalwood to the holy fire on their behalf.

At Bombay’s Bhikha Behram Well, located at the southern end of Cross Maidan, several non-Parsis stand outside the venerated premises to offer their devotion.

Our progressive priests (and their number is gradually increasing) who perform funeral rites for those opting for cremation and navjotes of children of intermarried Parsi mothers, are now being requisitioned to conduct jashans at non-Parsi homes. The fervor with which these jashans are attended by non-Parsis is to be seen to be believed, report the priests. The potency of manthric prayers is appreciated. Non-Parsis suffering from chronic illnesses or inexplicable malevolence request their Parsi friends to recite the Ardibehesht Yasht or the nirang of Afsoon-e-Shah-e-Faridoon, the divine healer. A Maharashtrian lady on dialysis recently surprised this columnist by reciting the central manthra of that nirang, with impeccable pronunciation.

Does this mean that if the faith was to open its doors to non-Parsis there would be an implosion? We think not. Just as Parsis, substantial numbers of whom routinely worship at the temples of other faiths but remain Zoroastrians, non-Parsis who offer devotion at Zoroastrian places of worship would stay with their religion. Many such non-Parsi believers often express a wish to worship in our fire temples and some of them have even done so. This will undoubtedly enrage the orthodox. However, what seems sacrilege today will, over the next two or three decades, become accepted practice. Closed door practices generally crumble under the pressure of external factors.

Parsis should be legitimately proud of the power of their faith being appreciated by others. Every religion is universal and man-made rules of exclusion are bound to fall by the wayside when the time is ripe.

Berjis M. Desai

Voting for self-interest

In State and municipal elections, Parsi voters should exercise their franchise intelligently

As informed citizens, in national elections, we vote, keeping in mind the national interest. However, in State legislative assembly elections and/or municipal elections, we take into account local issues. As a result, often there is an electoral swing even within a short period of time and the outcome of local elections, at times, differs from national elections.

Our Constitution details the powers exercisable by the Union of India, the States and certain shared powers between the two, called the Concurrent List. Hence, electoral considerations will also vary accordingly. In a secular democracy, is it legitimate to consider the interest of one’s community in exercising franchise? At first blush, a liberal democrat may find this repugnant. The right to vote is sacred and cannot be sullied by any considerations of caste, community or religion. That would be against the fabric of secularism.

On the other hand, this proposition cannot be examined in isolation. Our community, being minuscule in numbers, certainly requires extra protection. Our Doongerwadi lands, priceless, are hungrily eyed by property sharks. Our vast properties in the city are the envy of others. With a majority of Parsis being above 60, we have a disproportionately high number of senior citizens. Many of them reside alone and are vulnerable to being victims of violent crime. Our children find it increasingly difficult to compete for a place in educational institutions on a level playing field. We may have proudly rejected reservations earlier. However, the time is ripe to have reservations in medical, engineering and other professional courses. The B. D. Petit Parsee General Hospital operates on a shoestring budget and has acute cash flow issues. Our heritage sites like Udvada and Navsari require protection.

Politicians of all hues routinely claim to be friends of the community. These claims are often hollow. However, there are legislators who have genuinely furthered the interests of our community. For the last decade, they have furthered the community’s interest effectively by renovating Doongerwadi pavilions (did not go down well with the Fringe), cleaning water tanks in our baugs, donating ECG machines to our community medical centres and so on. More significantly, they are endeavoring to get reservation for Parsis in the Maharashtra Legislative Council.

Parsis should vote for a candidate irrespective of their personal political affiliations, by subsuming them in the larger interest of the community.

The crossroads at which the community finds itself demands that we learn to vote in the community’s interest, at least, at the State and local municipal levels. This is routinely resorted to, even in more mature democracies.

-- Berjis M. Desai