This October, Parsiana completed 60 years of existence. In November 1964 Dr Pesi Warden published the first issue of the journal at the now defunct Godrej Memorial Printing Press in Gamadia Colony at Tardeo. The Press had been set up to provide employment and training to Parsis by the Godrej family and the trustees of the Bombay Parsi Punchayet.
Warden, a doughty, well-meaning and ofttimes contentious general physician, termed the publication "a new medium for old wisdom.”
Perhaps now it is more an old medium for contemporary happenings. Even while the digital world overtakes print, subscribers and advertisers prefer to receive the hard copies of the magazine. And anyway wisdom is a rare and elusive commodity. Rather than quest for knowledge, as journalists we are content if we can unearth news and pass it on to our readers for whatever it is worth.
We are chroniclers of the death throes of a community whose demise is abetted by our inability to grasp reality or adapt to change. Where we once focused on birth pangs, today our attention is more on harakiri. Much of our energies are devoted to writing obituaries on people in particular and the community in general: dwindling devotees at moribund fire temples, forgotten and neglected dakhmas and cemeteries, closed hospital wards, the list goes on. The fires that once burned brightly within us and in our fire temples are now smoldering embers, if not ashes. Our energy levels are depleting and our institutions are atrophying. Properties and possessions are encroached upon or forsaken and forgotten. The demise of the Parsis in India and many other parts of the world — barring North America — will not be swift but more akin to a patient on life support with little possibility of survival without external assistance.
For this issue we thought it fitting to focus on what we believe is the number one issue facing the global Zoroastrian community, more so in India: an aging and ailing population. We also wanted visual representation of the community as seen through the eyes of lenspeople (see "Impressive images,” pg 32). On our request several photographers sent us what they considered were their most memorable photographs depicting various aspects of the community. We wanted the community to be remembered both in word and image.
On the issue of aging, we approached several medical and lay people who are involved with tending to the welfare and well-being of senior citizens to share their views and experiences on the subject. Parsiana is exceedingly grateful to them for taking the time and effort to express their thoughts at relatively short notice. Others requested more time and we will carry their articles in future issues. We would also like to thank the photographers for taking the trouble to dig out their notable images of the community. The visuals will bear testimony forever to the life of the community members.
No individual has all the answers for the ills that confront the community but by collectively focusing on the subject, keeping it in the forefront and searching for solutions, a consensus may be arrived at. These same problems plague not only the community but peoples throughout the world. Some of the suggestions made by the writers may not be practical. The funds and the personnel may be lacking. We can barely manage to maintain our existing institutions, leave aside creating new ones.
What aggravates the problem is the dogmatic outlook of some. The non-Parsi spouse is not accepted by the community in India barring Delhi and neither are the children of Parsi women married to non Parsis. Recently at a funeral at Doongerwadi, the family’s pet dog was seated within the bungli during the paidust and other ceremonies. The non-Parsi in-laws sat outside in the areas/pavilions designated for juddins, parjats and whoever else may hinder the progress of the deceased’s soul across the Chinvat Pul (bridge to heaven). And no, the solution is not to ban pets.
How did we come to such a state of affairs? Why do our counterparts in North America accept the non-Parsi spouse and their children? Why can Zoroastrian women there (and in Iran) become mobedyars while here they are "not permitted?” How do the North American Zoroastrians manage to host congresses every two years while in India we can barely manage a Federation of the Parsi Zoroastrian Anjumans of India meeting once in five years — that too with representatives restricted largely to Bombay and south Gujarat? Why does the Federation of Zoroastrian Associations of North America continue to meet and flourish? Why do Zoroastrians there bestow endowments on community institutions while here people shy away from doing so? Why are donations to create hospitals here opposed and the donors defamed? Why are new prayer halls being opened in North America while here we have to contemplate shutting fire temples? What perverse mindset ails the Indian Parsis?
For decades, demographic deniers refused to accept that our numbers were declining, leave aside at an alarming rate. The falling census figures and the rising percentage of interfaith marriages were dismissed as sham — fake news — without providing a shred of evidence to the contrary. Those who warned of the impending demographic disaster were written off as fearmongers and doomsayers who harbored a hidden agenda to convert others to Zoroastrianism. Fears of hordes of foreign converts invading Bombay, and usurping all our valuable properties and immense — though imaginary — wealth, were voiced. The realization that the community’s greatest asset is its people, the lives they lead and the values they imbibe, has yet to sink in.
Critics at one time feared the government would devour our assets. On the contrary, both the Congress Party when in power and the present ruling Bharatiya Janata Party showered crores of rupees on the community to increase our declining numbers. And this while our own institutions are unable to meet their financial obligations to subsidize child rearing costs and assist mobeds. Cliches and platitudes do not provide viable answers. Increasing the availability of flats did not result in more babies. Monetary incentives did not draw the young to the priesthood. Today agiaries struggle to even find assistants (derogatorily referred to as chasniwallas; nobody is contemplating changing the nomenclature). We have to find new approaches to old problems if we are to exist. Will we be remembered as a community that was unable to adapt or as the dynamic, pioneering people we once were? The choice is still ours to make.