LEMON AND CHILLI ARE NOT THAT SILLY

Tale of the Superstitious Parsis

By Berjis Desai

Until the late 1980s, when there were no mobile phones or email, and crank calls were untraceable, warring Parsis in baugs would arrange to send the Doongerwadi hearse first thing in the morning on some saaro saparmo divas (auspicious day) to their enemy’s home. Just as Behramji would be savoring sev and dahi, the khandhias (pallbearers) would ring the doorbell and crudely ask: where is the body? A classic case of sagan ma vaghan (bad omen on an auspicious day) would convince Behramji’s family that the coming year would be an annus horribilis (not to be confused with a bad attack of piles).

Apart from the path-crossing black cat, walking under a ladder, spilling salt and other international superstitions, Parsis have their own unique collection. Seeing a hearse at crack of dawn on Parsi New Year day, a dog suddenly wailing or moaning without cause, a crow depositing a dead rat on the window sill and meeting a punchayet trustee in the morning are the milder superstitions. The hard core ones are a mixture of Iranian and Indian beliefs. That pregnant women must sleep out a lunar eclipse is extensively followed. In the villages of Gujarat, it is widely believed that at such a time a pregnant woman should not even open her eyes: If she were to spot an owl, the child would be born with owl-like features. Some anecdotal evidence witnessed by this columnist: The rooster is much respected as the angel of dawn and almost never knowingly eaten. In the backyard of Gujarat Parsi homes, poultry would be reared for eggs and for sali ma murghi but the rooster would be spared and die either of excessive exertions with his fast diminishing harem or being heartbroken at seeing his mate end up on a plate. To complete the bird superstitions, Parsis reacted with horror to a vulture sitting on the roof of a house. It was taken as a sign of an earthly sojourn about to end. Considering that Parsis managed to outlive the vultures, this superstition has proved to be baseless.

Even in Persia, they believed in the evil eye. Shah Faridoon, a wise king, was a great white magician who conquered the evil Zohak and whose nirang prayer is even today faithfully recited by community members to ward off black magic. This nirang lists more than a hundred different types of nazars or chashma (evil eye) to be purged. The healer holds the thumb of the right hand of the victim and recites this nirang with the oft repeated intonation of the mantra, “Fé naaméyazad, bā farmaané yazad, banamé nik Faridoon é dāāv gayé,” which has very potent vibrations. Some Parsis wear an amulet containing a miniature version of the nirang.

Fixing a horse shoe above the entrance door (more often than not, the shoe was from cattle, and not a horse) to prevent malevolent influences from entering within, tying lemon and chillies and avoiding stepping on those lying on the ground, purging hepatitis (only of the ‘A’ variety) and sunstroke by performing certain rituals ultimately do have their origin in some superstition or the other. The rational ones quip that superstition brings bad luck, while the believers retort that superstition is nature’s way of preparing one for bad news. The glass shade of a divo (oil lamp) or a mirror cracking are considered terrible omens (as Tennyson put it: “The mirror crack’d from side to side, ‘The curse is come upon me,’ cried the Lady of Shalott”).

Notwithstanding the Parsi love for food, dhansak is never to be prepared on a birthday; since post the dawn uthamna ceremony for the deceased, the temporarily vegetarian relatives would eat mutton dhansak, cutely called the charam nu botu (charam being the fourth day after death and botu meaning a succulent piece of meat). However, one may gladly consume mora dar chawal on a happy occasion. Fortunately, there are no superstitions attached to drinking though one may certainly consider it a bad omen if that carefully preserved Merlot turns out to be vinegarish.

Devout Parsis do believe that day and night are divided into sub-periods of 90 minutes each (beneficial, inimical, excellent, auspicious, chaotic, bad, disease) prominently printed for the month in every good Parsi calendar (like those produced by the almost defunct Karani Brothers or Union Press). Rolled up into a cylinder, the calendars were handy to swat mosquitoes before flattening them under a heavy mattress in time for Parsi New Year. These sub-periods or chogadiyas were faithfully consulted and journeys and events planned accordingly. If one was not careful about what one said during a particular chogadiyu, the consequences could be horrendous if some malevolent entity was listening in then. Similarly, it was taboo to wallow in bed at dusk. Anyone uttering messages of gloom and doom was sarcastically dubbed “Sagan no ganthiyo” (virtually impossible to translate) and to be avoided.

The most sinister superstition was that, other than the khandhias, no one must come out alive from the dakhma. Decades ago, when medical standards were poor, an old lady consigned to the Navsari dakhma showed signs of life and was promptly beaten to death in the belief that once the geh saran ceremony had been performed, one simply cannot come alive again. This is not a figment of our imagination, though obviously we cannot adduce any evidence.

Finally, it is not good to die during the five Gatha days preceding the new year, since one will not then have a masiso, bumsie or chhumsie (after death prayear for the first month, two months and six months). Something like being born on February 29. So be careful during the Gathas.

Berjis M. Desai, managing partner of J. Sagar Associates, advocates and solicitors, is a writer and community activist.

This piece was published in Parsiana edition dated August 21, 2015