Bawa bonding

If someone had told me that running to catch the tube at Paddington Station last year I would have to explain what being a Zoroastrian meant to me, I would have scoffed. But as it turns out that is exactly what happened. My family and I were sightseeing in London on July 7 last year, the day of the infamous terrorist bombings. All of us at the tube station were blissfully unaware of the chaos being unleashed elsewhere in the city. I was walking a little ahead of my parents and brother and had a knapsack slung over my arm. Suddenly, I whirled around when someone tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to stop. I turned to find a London bobby, gun in a holster around his belt, asking to see my identification.

My first reaction was of indignation and then consternation at this request. He opened my passport and looked at my surname, Irani, and asked where I was from. By then my parents had caught up with me, and the policeman repeated his request. When I told him I was a Zoroastrian from India, he looked at us quizzically as though I had mentioned a secret, little known coven. In 10 minutes I managed to give him a high speed summary of this 4,000-year-old religion that in the words of British historian, Mary Boyce, is "the oldest of the revealed world religions and has had more influence on mankind, directly and indirectly, than any other single faith.” The policeman listened in silence and then returned my passport to me, advising us to go back to our hotel. As we emerged in the sunlight and joined the milling crowds, the sounds of sirens and car horns filled the air.

Living in several countries across three continents I’ve often found that most new friends are quite unaware about what being a Zoroastrian means. There are very few Parsi children like me in international schools. Outside of Bombay, I have invariably been the only Parsi child at school. However, in the UK, where I currently study, Parsis have taken a leading role in forging communal ties with other communities. In fact, the first Asian MP in the House of Commons was a Parsi, and the first Zoroastrian visited the UK in 1787.

I have seen firsthand the timeworn motto of humata, hukhta and huvarshta at work no matter how remote the countries that my father has been transferred to. When we moved to Zimbabwe four years ago, one of the first callers was a Parsi from Bombay who had lived in Harare for several years. I will never forget the Navroz dinner our families shared 10 days later and busy schedules notwithstanding we kept in touch throughout our stay there. The day we finally left, of all our friends who came to see us off, Parvez Siganporia stayed the longest, standing by the departure gate till he could see us no more.

My father often came back from trips to far-flung countries like Tanzania and Sudan with stories of relaxed evenings and friendly banter with a fellow Zoroastrian he had met there by some good fortune. While there are no Parsi fire temples in Africa, the ancient flame burns strong in the hearts of its faithful seeking to follow the tenets of their extraordinary faith.

ISHAN IRANI

UK