Editorial Viewpoint
Holy-days
The young Parsi pilgrim was perplexed. Where were the ardors of a pilgrimage? The sacrifice, the fasting, the penance? A train carried the worshippers to Udvada station, an auto to the hotel. Well appointed rooms, three meals a day, clothing, shopping at Daman, sightseeing were all part of the weekend stay. But where was the religiosity?
Aside from a visit to the holiest of Zoroastrian fire temples in India, the Iranshah, and a brief visit to the Pundole agiary, there was little else to indicate a pilgrimage was taking place.
When members of other faiths venture forth they undertake some form of sacrifice or physical endurance to arrive at their destination and/or during their stay. Pilgrims climb the hill to Tirupati or walk for days to reach other holy sites. They eschew meat, alcohol, wear unpretentious clothing, shun jewelry and cosmetics.
But the Parsi/Irani Zoroastrian pilgrimage to Udvada not only sees people indulge in all the luxuries money can afford but also in imbibing spirits, which in a dry state like Gujarat is a violation of the law — however illogical or bad the law may be. Fortunately prohibition is no longer taken seriously by anyone. The state government loses tax revenue, smuggling flourishes, the officers of the law are corrupted and the shortfall in revenue is made up by raising taxes on other items of daily consumption. In the long run everybody loses, except those outside the law, which sadly includes our brethren tipplers.
During the summer, Diwali and Christmas school vacation, the Udvada hotels do a thriving business. For the rest of the year, except the weekends and important hamkaras, business is slow. So Udvada is both a holiday destination as well as a place for worship.
Despite the ungainly development that is taking place in this South Gujarat coastal town, a three to four hour train ride or car drive from Bombay, the town still retains part of its quaintness: Old styled bungalows with red tiled sloping roofs and open verandahs, leafy pathways, cheerful villagers, elderly Parsis spied occasionally.
Some houses lie abandoned, window panes broken, creepers growing over the walls and windows, shrubs and plants choking the entrance and pathways. But elsewhere there is activity. While bicycles and walking remain the primary modes of transport, autos flit across the place (standardized auto rickshaw fares being Rs 40 from the station to the town for visitors). New developments have occurred: an additional hotel or two, a World Zoroastrian Organisation (WZO) lodge for the less affluent pilgrims. From dharamshala rooms for as little as Rs 25 a day plus Rs 300 for three meals to air conditioned rooms at Rs 1,000 per head including meals, Udvada caters to Zoroastrians of all income levels.
The ice cream vendors on bicycles still visit the hotels offering their sweet wares to the hotel visitors. In winter they also hawk milk puffs.
The road to the Iranshah is lined with cosmopolitan beggars. The more disfigured sit quietly while the fitter ask, sometimes boisterously, for alms. Stray dogs guard their territory gingerly while the occasional cow or bull forages through garbage bins. Chicks delve into the household rubbish dumped onto an alleyway leading to the beach.
But a walk on the beach reminds one that the threat to this idyllic place of pilgrimage is not only from haphazard urban construction, but from nature itself. The incoming sea has totally leveled the former King Hotel to its plinth; Majestic Hotel’s once prized sea facing rooms have long collapsed before the incoming waves of grey and muddy waters. The hotel appears to have ceased functioning.
Piles of stones stacked with rope netting to keep them in place attempt to buffer the shore from the encroaching water but whether they will succeed or not and for how long is uncertain.
All efforts to give Udvada a world heritage status have been thwarted
Aside from a visit to the holiest of Zoroastrian fire temples in India, the Iranshah, and a brief visit to the Pundole agiary, there was little else to indicate a pilgrimage was taking place.
When members of other faiths venture forth they undertake some form of sacrifice or physical endurance to arrive at their destination and/or during their stay. Pilgrims climb the hill to Tirupati or walk for days to reach other holy sites. They eschew meat, alcohol, wear unpretentious clothing, shun jewelry and cosmetics.
But the Parsi/Irani Zoroastrian pilgrimage to Udvada not only sees people indulge in all the luxuries money can afford but also in imbibing spirits, which in a dry state like Gujarat is a violation of the law — however illogical or bad the law may be. Fortunately prohibition is no longer taken seriously by anyone. The state government loses tax revenue, smuggling flourishes, the officers of the law are corrupted and the shortfall in revenue is made up by raising taxes on other items of daily consumption. In the long run everybody loses, except those outside the law, which sadly includes our brethren tipplers.
During the summer, Diwali and Christmas school vacation, the Udvada hotels do a thriving business. For the rest of the year, except the weekends and important hamkaras, business is slow. So Udvada is both a holiday destination as well as a place for worship.
Despite the ungainly development that is taking place in this South Gujarat coastal town, a three to four hour train ride or car drive from Bombay, the town still retains part of its quaintness: Old styled bungalows with red tiled sloping roofs and open verandahs, leafy pathways, cheerful villagers, elderly Parsis spied occasionally.
Some houses lie abandoned, window panes broken, creepers growing over the walls and windows, shrubs and plants choking the entrance and pathways. But elsewhere there is activity. While bicycles and walking remain the primary modes of transport, autos flit across the place (standardized auto rickshaw fares being Rs 40 from the station to the town for visitors). New developments have occurred: an additional hotel or two, a World Zoroastrian Organisation (WZO) lodge for the less affluent pilgrims. From dharamshala rooms for as little as Rs 25 a day plus Rs 300 for three meals to air conditioned rooms at Rs 1,000 per head including meals, Udvada caters to Zoroastrians of all income levels.
The ice cream vendors on bicycles still visit the hotels offering their sweet wares to the hotel visitors. In winter they also hawk milk puffs.
The road to the Iranshah is lined with cosmopolitan beggars. The more disfigured sit quietly while the fitter ask, sometimes boisterously, for alms. Stray dogs guard their territory gingerly while the occasional cow or bull forages through garbage bins. Chicks delve into the household rubbish dumped onto an alleyway leading to the beach.
But a walk on the beach reminds one that the threat to this idyllic place of pilgrimage is not only from haphazard urban construction, but from nature itself. The incoming sea has totally leveled the former King Hotel to its plinth; Majestic Hotel’s once prized sea facing rooms have long collapsed before the incoming waves of grey and muddy waters. The hotel appears to have ceased functioning.
Piles of stones stacked with rope netting to keep them in place attempt to buffer the shore from the encroaching water but whether they will succeed or not and for how long is uncertain.
All efforts to give Udvada a world heritage status have been thwarted
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From the archive