Lahore as Sidhwa sees it

In Bombay to launch her latest book — City of Sin and Splendour: Writings on Lahore published by Penguin — Bapsi Sidhwa responded to questions from the audience after the book reading at Crossword bookstore on October 13, 2005. The informal interchange moderated by journalist Anil Dharker in the chair revealed aspects about Sidhwa, Pakistan and Parsis. The book deals with the architecture and history of one of the most ancient cities in India, drawing from literature and Urdu fiction to paint the nuances of a city and its cuisine. When she grew up there, Lahore had about 200 Parsis. Now there are only 40, she notes.

Having grown up in close confines in Lahore where "I felt I was always watched,” Sidhwa said her first encounter with Bombay had left her in shock but over a period of three to four years she had learnt to enjoy the freedom that anonymity brings.

What’s it like, being a Parsi in Pakistan, in the West? The community in Karachi numbers about 2,500 she estimates "but Parsis are fortunate to be lionized, liked. People seem to know us. Parsis in Karachi are all millionaires. In the West we are totally anonymous (but ) we can be brokers, peacemakers.”

Sidhwa: "We can be peacemakers”

Describing Kara­chi and Bombay as cosmopolitan cities, Sidhwa says Lahore is still very feudal and compares it to Delhi. In answer to a query she says, "I’ve never had anyone tell me to cover my head but some friends have had that experience.” She calls the purdah a status symbol: "When a man does well, his wife takes on the purdah.”

Someone referred to her The Crow­eaters, a good-natured satire on the Parsi community attitudes which apparently had the community bristling. "The Parsis thought I had betrayed them!” she notes, adding, "It’s permissible for a man to speak of sexuality but somehow women are not permitted. But their bodies are craving romance!”

A speaker from the floor suggested that Sidhwa — who is currently working on a book version of Deepa Mehta’s film Water — write a futuristic novel with the Indian subcontinent as a single unit. Responded the author: "When I am in India I never think I am not an Indian (but) Pakistan is here to stay. I do believe Mohammedali Jinnah was a very secular man. Till 1946 he didn’t want a Partition…In my heart I feel we don’t want borders. Parsis are more devoted to India than even a Hindu. We have this deep-seated loyalty to the land where we live. (Are we) rising to the challenge of the warring communities around us?... Once borders become porous, the subcontinent will become like Europe. It’s the animosity that must go.”

In a brief telephone chat with Parsi­ana subsequently Sidhwa endorsed the goals of the Association for Revival of Zoroastrianism (ARZ) and its agenda of acceptance of the children and spouses of intermarried Zoroastrians: "We need it badly. Our children are marrying out. We don’t want to become dodo birds of an old religion.” Also, from the demographic angle, it is a welcome move, she says. Referring to the children of Parsi fathers and mothers from other communities, Sidhwa says, "If you ostracize the mother, the children don’t want to become Zoroastrians. They say ‘Look at the way you treat our mother!’”

She is "totally disgusted” at the tussle surrounding the concept of a world body of Zoroastrians: " If you are going to fight so much, why have an organization? Divide into orthodox and modern, hold your beliefs and do the best you can.” The acceptance of converts she categorizes as a "complex issue. How do we absorb them into the faith?...We are too few.”