Editorial Viewpoint
Bridging the gap
The case of the mysterious lady’s left hand found near the rear entrance to the S. F. Jokhi Agiary at Godrej Baug has greatly agitated Parsiana’s intrepid columnists Alamai, Letap and Aflatoon (ALA). They marched into our office demanding to know on what basis we surmised the panjo belonged to a Godrej Baug resident whose soul did not make it across the Chinvad Puhl (CP). We sheepishly replied since the skeletal hand was found in the colony, we presumed it was a former resident. Why, we reasoned, would say a Rustom Baug resident lodge herself at Malabar Hill? She would logically opt for Rani Baug.
The trio were unimpressed by our “backhanded” reply and said they wished to speak to the authorities managing the CP. Using our good offices with the High Priests we were able to obtain three round trip passes for ALA (we resisted the temptation to change it to one way as the three are our star performers. ALA fan clubs have sprouted in all major community concentrations and Facebook is awash with ALA pages).
When they arrived at the reception room at CP, they were met by the public relations and strategic communications manager of Chinvad Puhl Private Limited, Ms Sari Khabbar. She stated she was aware of the countless complaints of favoritism and corruption in the operation of the puhls but that they were all “totally unfounded media hype.”
Khabbar explained the operation of the puhls was very intricate. Any error in judgment or calculations could result in a person’s soul plunging into the abyss instead of crossing the bridge and entering Parsi Heaven. They had even introduced a merit rating system (MRS) to make the process “more transparent and accountable.”
Puhls!” gasped ALA. “We thought there was only one bridge.”
“Why does everyone assume there is only one bridge?” she inquired. “Do you honestly think one puhl can handle all the traffic? There are millions of Zoroastrians. Instead of waiting their turn to cross over they all rush at once like guests at a wedding feast. You know the bridge narrows if a naughty or ill-behaved Parsi/Irani tries to cross. It is a very intricate mechanism prone to failure. In the past several bridges collapsed due to the deadweight — no pun intended. In that case people may have to wait a year or two to cross or fall.”
“A year or two! We were told in four days the soul crosses over on account of our powerful funerary prayers,” said ALA in unison.
Khabbar (laughs): “You think it is possible to process so many souls in the span of four days? We’ve had budget cuts. We are short staffed. The bridge engineers are on strike. They claim solar panel operators earn more than them. Our computer systems are outdated. We still use floppy discs. Our payroll is not computerized. Over half the employees don’t have mobile phones. How do you expect them to coordinate their activities with their counterparts 20 miles away?”
ALA: “Twenty miles? You mean the bridge is that long?”
Guide: “That’s one of our shorter bridges. It used to be 40 miles but we built some tunnels and lessened the distance. We wanted to have a Eurostar-chunnel kind of train connecting the two points with a check point in between but the contractor appointed to do the job took the money and ran away to the Baha’i section. We’ve started extradition proceedings, but if he has converted, he gets immunity.”
“Anyway, we are not here to unearth any financial irregularities,” emphasized Alamai. “We are in search of the owner of a hand, allegedly a woman, probably left handed, possibly residing in Godrej Baug.”
“Why Godrej Baug?” asked Khabbar. “Why not Jer Baug or Bharucha Baug?” ALA sighed. “Never mind. Just tell us how to find out who the hand belongs to.”
She directed the trio to the lost and found department. They were told to note down a complaint in the “Found” register which involved writing the name of the person concerned.
“We don’t know her name,” wailed Aflatoon. “We don’t even know if she was a Parsi.”
“Then how do you expect us to identify the owner?” the storekeeper inquired brusquely. He then looked up the “Lost” complaints register to see if anyone had reported a missing left hand. No entry. He said he would issue a bulletin to all disposal centers to see if anyone had lodged a complaint elsewhere. He suggested in the meanwhile the trio take a round of the puhls and see if they could spy a woman with a missing wrist.
As the operator maneuvered the electrical trolley from one puhl to the other, Alamai spotted a group of skinny, ragtag Parsis huddled together. The entrance to their puhl was closed and barred.
“Why is their condition so pitiful?” cried ALA. “Did they opt for cremation?”
Guide: “No”
ALA: “Did they marry non-Parsis?”
Guide: “No”
ALA: “Were they the children of interfaith unions?”
Guide: “No”
ALA: “Were they vegetarians?”
Guide: “No. They are the reincarna-tionists. We don’t know what to do with them. Normally we would shift them to the Hindu or Buddhist wards. But the only options open to be reborn are as Uttar Pradesh politicians, Bengali intellectuals or Kashmiri separatists. Earlier Parsis wanted to be reincarnated as Europeans but now with the euro falling they don’t want to be associated with losers. Instead they wish to become Chinese Communist party politburo members or Korean rock stars.”
ALA: “What happens to Parsis who marry outside the faith? Is it true they can’t cross over?”
Guide: “No. We have a special unconsecrated bridge for them. But they have to provide an affidavit that they married under Section 11 and registered under 13 of the Special Marriage Act, 1954 of India and continue to profess the Zoroastrian faith.”
ALA: “What about people who are cremated or buried? We are told their souls keep roaming about aimlessly.”
Guide: “We don’t know if the corpse has been cremated, baked, roasted or buried. Remember we only see the finished (no pun intended) product, not the process. But for a little consideration we can manage to get the wealthy ones classified as ‘solared’ souls.”
“But isn’t that wrong?” queried Letap. “In the King James Bible (Mark 10:25) it is said it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God.”
Guide: “No camels have crossed over the puhls to date. But many wealthy Parsis have. That’s the advantage of expandable bridges and a flexible MRS.”
As the day drew to a close, the three mulled over their apparent failure to locate the owner of the wrist. “We will be returning empty-handed,” remarked Letap. But just when they were departing from the CP estate, the storekeeper came running. “Great news! We’ve discovered the owner of the missing hand. It’s a Russian Zoroastrian from St Petersburg. She wants her panjo back!”
(In the next instalment of ALAventures, ALA with the help of Interpol will fathom out how the hand migrated from the Dostoyevsky dakhma in St Petersburg to Doongerwadi at Bombay – editors).
The trio were unimpressed by our “backhanded” reply and said they wished to speak to the authorities managing the CP. Using our good offices with the High Priests we were able to obtain three round trip passes for ALA (we resisted the temptation to change it to one way as the three are our star performers. ALA fan clubs have sprouted in all major community concentrations and Facebook is awash with ALA pages).
When they arrived at the reception room at CP, they were met by the public relations and strategic communications manager of Chinvad Puhl Private Limited, Ms Sari Khabbar. She stated she was aware of the countless complaints of favoritism and corruption in the operation of the puhls but that they were all “totally unfounded media hype.”
Khabbar explained the operation of the puhls was very intricate. Any error in judgment or calculations could result in a person’s soul plunging into the abyss instead of crossing the bridge and entering Parsi Heaven. They had even introduced a merit rating system (MRS) to make the process “more transparent and accountable.”
Puhls!” gasped ALA. “We thought there was only one bridge.”
“Why does everyone assume there is only one bridge?” she inquired. “Do you honestly think one puhl can handle all the traffic? There are millions of Zoroastrians. Instead of waiting their turn to cross over they all rush at once like guests at a wedding feast. You know the bridge narrows if a naughty or ill-behaved Parsi/Irani tries to cross. It is a very intricate mechanism prone to failure. In the past several bridges collapsed due to the deadweight — no pun intended. In that case people may have to wait a year or two to cross or fall.”
“A year or two! We were told in four days the soul crosses over on account of our powerful funerary prayers,” said ALA in unison.
Khabbar (laughs): “You think it is possible to process so many souls in the span of four days? We’ve had budget cuts. We are short staffed. The bridge engineers are on strike. They claim solar panel operators earn more than them. Our computer systems are outdated. We still use floppy discs. Our payroll is not computerized. Over half the employees don’t have mobile phones. How do you expect them to coordinate their activities with their counterparts 20 miles away?”
ALA: “Twenty miles? You mean the bridge is that long?”
Guide: “That’s one of our shorter bridges. It used to be 40 miles but we built some tunnels and lessened the distance. We wanted to have a Eurostar-chunnel kind of train connecting the two points with a check point in between but the contractor appointed to do the job took the money and ran away to the Baha’i section. We’ve started extradition proceedings, but if he has converted, he gets immunity.”
“Anyway, we are not here to unearth any financial irregularities,” emphasized Alamai. “We are in search of the owner of a hand, allegedly a woman, probably left handed, possibly residing in Godrej Baug.”
“Why Godrej Baug?” asked Khabbar. “Why not Jer Baug or Bharucha Baug?” ALA sighed. “Never mind. Just tell us how to find out who the hand belongs to.”
She directed the trio to the lost and found department. They were told to note down a complaint in the “Found” register which involved writing the name of the person concerned.
“We don’t know her name,” wailed Aflatoon. “We don’t even know if she was a Parsi.”
“Then how do you expect us to identify the owner?” the storekeeper inquired brusquely. He then looked up the “Lost” complaints register to see if anyone had reported a missing left hand. No entry. He said he would issue a bulletin to all disposal centers to see if anyone had lodged a complaint elsewhere. He suggested in the meanwhile the trio take a round of the puhls and see if they could spy a woman with a missing wrist.
As the operator maneuvered the electrical trolley from one puhl to the other, Alamai spotted a group of skinny, ragtag Parsis huddled together. The entrance to their puhl was closed and barred.
“Why is their condition so pitiful?” cried ALA. “Did they opt for cremation?”
Guide: “No”
ALA: “Did they marry non-Parsis?”
Guide: “No”
ALA: “Were they the children of interfaith unions?”
Guide: “No”
ALA: “Were they vegetarians?”
Guide: “No. They are the reincarna-tionists. We don’t know what to do with them. Normally we would shift them to the Hindu or Buddhist wards. But the only options open to be reborn are as Uttar Pradesh politicians, Bengali intellectuals or Kashmiri separatists. Earlier Parsis wanted to be reincarnated as Europeans but now with the euro falling they don’t want to be associated with losers. Instead they wish to become Chinese Communist party politburo members or Korean rock stars.”
ALA: “What happens to Parsis who marry outside the faith? Is it true they can’t cross over?”
Guide: “No. We have a special unconsecrated bridge for them. But they have to provide an affidavit that they married under Section 11 and registered under 13 of the Special Marriage Act, 1954 of India and continue to profess the Zoroastrian faith.”
ALA: “What about people who are cremated or buried? We are told their souls keep roaming about aimlessly.”
Guide: “We don’t know if the corpse has been cremated, baked, roasted or buried. Remember we only see the finished (no pun intended) product, not the process. But for a little consideration we can manage to get the wealthy ones classified as ‘solared’ souls.”
“But isn’t that wrong?” queried Letap. “In the King James Bible (Mark 10:25) it is said it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God.”
Guide: “No camels have crossed over the puhls to date. But many wealthy Parsis have. That’s the advantage of expandable bridges and a flexible MRS.”
As the day drew to a close, the three mulled over their apparent failure to locate the owner of the wrist. “We will be returning empty-handed,” remarked Letap. But just when they were departing from the CP estate, the storekeeper came running. “Great news! We’ve discovered the owner of the missing hand. It’s a Russian Zoroastrian from St Petersburg. She wants her panjo back!”
(In the next instalment of ALAventures, ALA with the help of Interpol will fathom out how the hand migrated from the Dostoyevsky dakhma in St Petersburg to Doongerwadi at Bombay – editors).
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From the archive