Well, an inaugural post. Let’s see how often I actually update this thing. Blogs are necessarily exercises in ego-massage, and the blogging world seems to be dominated by those who enjoy pontificating instead of doing (myself included?). So, I’ll resist the temptation to go off on political rants (except when something’s really outrageous.. and, well, there’s enough of that nowadays) and mostly stick to amusing, or interesting stories and pictures from my sojourn out here in the ‘real world’.

Parsis

I was rather delighted to see an article on the challenges faced by the ever-shrinking Zoroastrian community in North America and elsewhere. This is a subject somewhat near and dear to me for a few reasons. Coming as I do from Bombay (and I use the old name of the city deliberately here) both my parents and I grew up knowing many Parsis (as Zoroastrians are known in India). Indeed the world’s largest Zoroastrian community (that in Bombay) played a profoundly important role in the development of Bombay’s (and more generally, British and Independent India’s) institutions and civil society. I also spent a lot of time researching Parsi history and culture, and the ‘challenges of modernity’, for a final paper for my freshman seminar, further increasing my interest and background on the subject.

While I think the article gets most of the nuances and issues facing this very small, but historically significant, community correct, a few further points bear some exposition. First, the Parsi community pre-1947 (and to a lesser extent, afterwards) was undeniably Anglophilic in bent. Exceptions abound of course, including Dadabhai Naoroji, who became the first Indian MP in the British Parliament in 1892, and a father figure to a generation of Indian nationalists. The Anglophilic inclinations of many Parsis were encouraged by the British from early on for pragmatic and ideological reasons. The British sought to cultivate an indigenous elite with a vested interest in the preservation of Empire, and further saw Parsis as more ‘white’ (and ‘Aryan’), and thus culturally closer to Europeans. Indeed, the British often referred to Parsis as the ‘Jews of India’ (a somewhat ironic statement given the rich history of several Indian Jewish communities). All this made the transition to an Independent India an awkward and stilted affair for many (but by no means all) Parsis in Bombay and elsewhere. After all, being friendly with the colonial occupiers isn’t necessarily appreciated by a new nationalist elite.

The heyday of the Parsi community in the early part of the 20th century in Bombay saw the existence of a thriving cultural scene, albeit one with a Western tilt. Indeed, my aunt who recently moved back to Bombay and has brought together some of the city’s best musicians for small chamber concerts, has been told by many older attendees that her new concerts “bring back memories of concerts in old Parsi mansions during the 40s and 50s”. It is worth noting here that Mehli Mehta, father of Zubin Mehta, music director of the New York Philhamronic for several years, founded Bombay’s now-defunct Symphony.

Which brings me to my second point: The almost universal sense of despair in the community that they are in irreversible decline both demographically and culturally. Partly fueled by the jarring changes to India’s social and political landscape in the 1940s and 50s, emigration, inter-marriage and low birthrates have only increased this internal perception of decay and demise. For those interested, the quite excellent Indo-Canadian (and Parsi) author Rohinton Mistry’s short story collection Tales from Firozsha Baag and novels Such a Long Journey, and Family Matters provide windows into the historical and contemporary Parsi experience in a deeply empathetic, humanistic way. Do note, I by no means wish to pigeonhole these works as just for those with an interest in the Parsi community, as they are accessible, wonderful novels that can be appreciated and enjoyed by everyone. My personal favorite is Mistry’s masterwork, A Fine Balance, which takes a broader, Dickensian look at Bombay itself.

And Beyond

I suppose an additional reason I am so interested in this community, beyond many personal connections and my origins in Bombay, is that I too belong to a relatively small, historically endogenous community. Indeed, whenever I meet another member of the community, chances are we are separated at most by a few marriages or relatives. Granted, my community is at least an order of magnitude larger than the Parsi community, and is far more decentralized, and is in no danger of decline anytime soon, the same questions of ‘modernity’ challenging the Parsi community resonate deeply with some of my own fundamental doubts and qualms.

How do such notions of community identity matter in my own life? What is identity? I largely subscribe to Amartya Sen’s generous, humanistic approach to questions of identity (see Development as Freedom, and Identity and Violence for some insight). Indeed, my origins and community are relevant, but simply one part among many of my identity; an identity that is, in many ways, strikingly different from that of my parents. I have, from a very young age (and due perhaps to my dislocated early childhood), thought of myself first as a human, and then any nationality that may have been relevant at the time. However, in recent times, I have come to question this somewhat glib, idealistic view of my own identity. That I am Canadian and originally from India has a role to play in who I am, and in the formation of my personal opinions, values and morals; that much, I must acknowledge. But I continue to refute the communitarian notion that these identities must limit my will, and necessarily limit or constrain my range of thoughts, opinions and future actions (don’t worry, I’m not turning into a libertarian!). Such notions can be used to excuse suppressing the freedom of choice and thought of younger generations seeking to free themselves from illogical or immoral constraints placed on themselves by their traditional communities (yes, I realize that was a loaded sentence and maybe I’ll justify it later, haha).

My apologies for the rambling here, but I hope you can see why I found this article so interesting. Identity, for those of us who have migrated and moved around so much in our lives, is a complicated thing. That much, I believe is necessary for all of us to acknowledge. The key here is not to be confused, but cognizant of these internal challenges. As many members of the Zoroastrian community have discovered, and as I have, where we come from need not limit where we go in our lives. At the same time, our origins will undoubtedly inform our decision-making processes, and the sooner we recognize these influences, the easier it may become to navigate the (admittedly trite) waters of tradition and modernity.

More later, including pictures from Bumbershoot. Also, I really like my car! Pictures soon.

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A small update since people may actually be reading this!

I realize that in referring to the Parsi community as historically being largely anglophile, I have painted with a very broad brush. There were many Parsis who actively opposed British rule in India, not to mention industrialists like Tata, and military types like Field Marshal Manekshaw who were certainly believers and supporters of an independent India. The term ‘anglophile’ is used here not as a perjorative or anything of the like; on the contrary, it was just a quick way to (crudely, I confess) describe the affinities and inclinations of many members of the community historically. If you’re interested, books like A Corner of a Foreign Field offer insight into how being anglophile can ultimately make you responsible for the modern south asian obsession with cricket :-p

I too abhor writing that seeks to reduce groups of individuals into caricatures and stereotypes, and had no intention of sounding like an old-fashioned anthropologist from the early 20th century. If the above seems that way, I apologize. My original intentions were simply to offer some more historical perspective (in a very rough way) to friends who might have read the article but not know much about the subject. To those, however, who know more on the matter, the above will evidently seem a very crude, over-generalizing analysis; a critique I fully accept.