Editorial Viewpoint
A daring difference
On the train to Poona one came across a young Welsh girl and her English boyfriend. A college graduate, she exercises horses for a living while he “worked with ropes.” His job involved climbing structures and then hanging down by ropes to paint, plaster, weld or do whatever was required. Ropes are used where scaffolding is too expensive or impractical as on electric towers.
Both occupations were unusual and the young couple reveled in the fact they could indulge in the profession of their choice. They had saved enough money to tour India and practice some rock climbing, a favorite hobby.
Unlike in the West, the freedom to pursue the career of one’s dreams is often a hard fought battle in the developing world. Economic compulsions, family pressures and non-availability of positions in one’s preferred occupation, limit options.
In this issue Parsiana focuses on those Zoroastrians who one way or the other have managed to end up doing what they wanted to. Some did so despite family opposition, others with tacit or lukewarm support; a few may have faced indifference.
Some of the people written about state that their parents, while apprehensive of their occupational choices, let then follow their hearts. The subsequent success in their chosen field of endeavor is a testament to parental love and understanding.
Arnaz Mirza (née Parakh) dreamed of a career in radio broadcasting, taking her radio to bed to listen to the programs. Zeeba Namdarian disregarded her father’s objections and chose to enter the world of bartending. Sanobar Pardiwalla risks her life to perform stunts for movies and commercials.
But for every puppeteer, deep-sea diver or dog trainer, there are countless youngsters who were discouraged, blocked or even threatened with disinheritance if they deviated from time-honored professions.
We still hear parents cajoling or badgering their children to take up an MBA (Master of Business Administration course) instead of computer animation or to pursue a college degree instead of sports, quite unmindful of the fact that the unorthodox alternatives are better paying.
As Dr Ratan Marshall, a doyen of Gujarati literature notes in an e-mail: “The British gave us the love for the English language and cricket. We were pioneers in playing cricket in India. We actually sent a Parsi cricket team to play cricket in England (but) these days in the entire country, not a single Parsi player is in the all-India team or even in a regional team. There is a Sania Mirza amongst the Muslims but not a Suna Mirza in the Parsi community… Look at our Parsi Gujarati journalism and Parsi Gujarati theater. What wonderful contribution (there was) in the past and (look at the) state of affairs… today.”
People like Marshall opted to serve the Surat Parsi Panchayat and thereby the community, instead of seeking more paying employment in the private sector or government. How many parents today would encourage their children to opt for a career in a Zoroastrian trust? Or, for that matter, a community publication?
Forty years ago the richest man in Hartford, Connecticut was asked if he had any regrets about dropping out of school in the seventh grade. His reply: “that I didn’t do it sooner.”
Not every individual is geared towards academia, though of course a degree helps open doors. Parents and progeny have to balance their ideals and goals without impinging on each others’ territories. The number of youth who follow unconventional careers is an indication of the freedom a community bestows on its young.
Another indicator is the assistance rendered. When social commentator Noshir Dadrawalla’s son wanted to take up deep-sea diving, various Parsi/Irani trusts came forward to help. Noshir himself pioneered an unusual vocation — the study and development of philanthropy.
If a student wishes to pursue a liberal arts degree, one often hears concern being voiced over whether he/she will find a job. Would it not be wiser to pursue a course in commerce or science?
If a postgraduate student opts for a PhD, well-wishers ask if this better qualifies him/her for employment, and of what sort? Education is not viewed as an end in itself. Rather as an arduous, time-consuming qualification that one must acquire to enjoy the fruits of greater income. While education lifts families out of poverty, a better standard of living is not the only objective of higher learning.
Across the community we find people taking up social causes regardless of the monetary loss it may cause them. Industrialists assist the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals; a gynecologist works to conserve the environment; lawyers take up public interest litigation without charge; chartered accountants write on sports and literature and offer their services to charitable organizations.
It would be a pleasant change if at Parsi/Irani functions speakers would exhort the young to pursue postgraduate study instead of repetitively urging them to become businesspeople. We need writers, poets, dancers, artists, scholars, priests and even dreamers as much as we need entrepreneurs, lawyers, engineers, doctors and accountants.
The people we remember from the past are literary and artistic figures, scientists, inventors, statesmen, philanthropic businessmen, military leaders, philosophers and clergymen. Perhaps we should keep that in mind the next time we decide to discourage or thwart the young or old from pursuing their dreams. We may be denying them a chance at immortality.
Both occupations were unusual and the young couple reveled in the fact they could indulge in the profession of their choice. They had saved enough money to tour India and practice some rock climbing, a favorite hobby.
Unlike in the West, the freedom to pursue the career of one’s dreams is often a hard fought battle in the developing world. Economic compulsions, family pressures and non-availability of positions in one’s preferred occupation, limit options.
In this issue Parsiana focuses on those Zoroastrians who one way or the other have managed to end up doing what they wanted to. Some did so despite family opposition, others with tacit or lukewarm support; a few may have faced indifference.
Some of the people written about state that their parents, while apprehensive of their occupational choices, let then follow their hearts. The subsequent success in their chosen field of endeavor is a testament to parental love and understanding.
Arnaz Mirza (née Parakh) dreamed of a career in radio broadcasting, taking her radio to bed to listen to the programs. Zeeba Namdarian disregarded her father’s objections and chose to enter the world of bartending. Sanobar Pardiwalla risks her life to perform stunts for movies and commercials.
But for every puppeteer, deep-sea diver or dog trainer, there are countless youngsters who were discouraged, blocked or even threatened with disinheritance if they deviated from time-honored professions.
We still hear parents cajoling or badgering their children to take up an MBA (Master of Business Administration course) instead of computer animation or to pursue a college degree instead of sports, quite unmindful of the fact that the unorthodox alternatives are better paying.
As Dr Ratan Marshall, a doyen of Gujarati literature notes in an e-mail: “The British gave us the love for the English language and cricket. We were pioneers in playing cricket in India. We actually sent a Parsi cricket team to play cricket in England (but) these days in the entire country, not a single Parsi player is in the all-India team or even in a regional team. There is a Sania Mirza amongst the Muslims but not a Suna Mirza in the Parsi community… Look at our Parsi Gujarati journalism and Parsi Gujarati theater. What wonderful contribution (there was) in the past and (look at the) state of affairs… today.”
People like Marshall opted to serve the Surat Parsi Panchayat and thereby the community, instead of seeking more paying employment in the private sector or government. How many parents today would encourage their children to opt for a career in a Zoroastrian trust? Or, for that matter, a community publication?
Forty years ago the richest man in Hartford, Connecticut was asked if he had any regrets about dropping out of school in the seventh grade. His reply: “that I didn’t do it sooner.”
Not every individual is geared towards academia, though of course a degree helps open doors. Parents and progeny have to balance their ideals and goals without impinging on each others’ territories. The number of youth who follow unconventional careers is an indication of the freedom a community bestows on its young.
Another indicator is the assistance rendered. When social commentator Noshir Dadrawalla’s son wanted to take up deep-sea diving, various Parsi/Irani trusts came forward to help. Noshir himself pioneered an unusual vocation — the study and development of philanthropy.
If a student wishes to pursue a liberal arts degree, one often hears concern being voiced over whether he/she will find a job. Would it not be wiser to pursue a course in commerce or science?
If a postgraduate student opts for a PhD, well-wishers ask if this better qualifies him/her for employment, and of what sort? Education is not viewed as an end in itself. Rather as an arduous, time-consuming qualification that one must acquire to enjoy the fruits of greater income. While education lifts families out of poverty, a better standard of living is not the only objective of higher learning.
Across the community we find people taking up social causes regardless of the monetary loss it may cause them. Industrialists assist the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals; a gynecologist works to conserve the environment; lawyers take up public interest litigation without charge; chartered accountants write on sports and literature and offer their services to charitable organizations.
It would be a pleasant change if at Parsi/Irani functions speakers would exhort the young to pursue postgraduate study instead of repetitively urging them to become businesspeople. We need writers, poets, dancers, artists, scholars, priests and even dreamers as much as we need entrepreneurs, lawyers, engineers, doctors and accountants.
The people we remember from the past are literary and artistic figures, scientists, inventors, statesmen, philanthropic businessmen, military leaders, philosophers and clergymen. Perhaps we should keep that in mind the next time we decide to discourage or thwart the young or old from pursuing their dreams. We may be denying them a chance at immortality.
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From the archive