Editorial Viewpoint
A call to alms
In response to our piece “Maag, maag and company” (Events and Personalities, Parsiana, May 21, 2012) commenting on the khandhias and nassessalars at Doongerwadi seeking alms from mourners, London based noted scholar and frequent contributor to Parsiana, Farrokh Vajifdar sent a letter commiserating with the lot of the pallbearers. As the length of the letter did not permit Parsiana to publish the missive in our Readers’ Forum column in this issue (it will appear in the next), we are carrying an extract here with our comments with the hope that this critical subject is more widely debated.
“However abhorrent it might seem to Parsiana readers and others, the soliciting of alms at Bombay’s Doongerwadi should not occasion surprise,” writes Vajifdar. “Grandly termed ‘pallbearers,’ these khandhias and nassesalars have no recourse other than begging to sustain them through the appalling life to which we (yes, all of us!) have condemned them and their immediate families. Begging for them has become a situational necessity; however embarrassing to some, it is not a crime.
“Just think: we, who forever promote ourselves as advanced, educated, enlightened and superior — with the built-in ‘Parsi, thy name is charity(!)’ — have over three-and-a-half centuries ensured a noxious apartheid culture, one of dhongi priests, ignorant laity and the lamentable underclass of morticians (to use a polite term). The comparison with the status of the Chandanwadi (crematorium) staff does not bear scrutiny: we have ensured the otherness of our dakhma workers by inflicting a vile ostracism upon them and their close kin. We may well strive to forget this apartheid of disallowing them from temples, jashans, gahanbars, navjotes and weddings... We further impose the repeated tedious cleansings they are forced to undergo (with rancid bulls’ urine, and naught else than water). Not content with that, they… publicly at least, cannot hold any other occupation. Despite knowing all this, we begrudge them a pathetic emolument by way of ‘begging!’ Why pass harsh judgments on those we have already penalized?”
In our write-up and our Editorial Viewpoint (“A loss of dignity,” Parsiana, December 21, 2006) we had pointed out that while one could not condone the practice of begging, one had to be sympathetic to the lot of the pallbearers. Since then the BPP reportedly pressured their employees’ union to get the khandhias to stop the practice which the pallbearers did. But the asking of alms was only a symbolic manifestation of a greater ill, the creation of a socially inferior sub caste. Not tackling the core problem, the malpractice has resurfaced.
There are around 18 khandhias and nassessalars at Doongerwadi who earn around Rs 20,000 to Rs 25,000 a month, according to the Bombay Parsi Punchayet (BPP) chief executive officer (CEO) Mehli Colah. They are also provided accommodation or an allowance for housing, medical benefits, educational assistance for their children, etc. “Even if they were paid Rs 35,000 they would still continue seeking handouts,” says former BPP CEO Behram Dastur. When they were questioned as to why they indulged in the practice, the khandhias reportedly replied, “We are not asking. People give.”
The financial incentive to ask for alms cannot be the compelling factor. After all there are people in Bombay who earn Rs 5,000 and Rs 6,000 or less a month who receive no allowances for accommodation, medical aid, education, etc but never beg. Their self-esteem, upbringing and value system would not permit them to do so.
So what prompts middle-class, securely employed, Parsi Zoroastrian pallbearers to solicit alms? The answer lies in the nature of their work. The community treats them as social outcastes, unwelcome guests, an ill omen. The BPP trustees may sit with them for a dinner, but this is little more than an act of condescension. The khandhias et al can easily see through this façade of camaraderie.
The pallbearers also know that the trustees have no choice but to kowtow to their might. They are unionized, they are voters (much to the chagrin of many who believe only the privileged should be given the right to elect a BPP trustee) and they can bring the entire system of dakhmenashini to a halt if they decide to strike — a threat they have effectively used in the past. If the trustees act in a high-handed manner, their approach may boomerang. “Doongerwadi is the Achilles’ heel of the BPP,” says Dastur. No trustee and few lay people — even those who publicly sing the praises of dakhmenashini — would be willing to carry corpses into the dakhmas.
As BPP trustee Khojeste Mistree never fails to inform audiences, the interiors of the towers of silence are not a “rose garden.” According to Dastur it is more akin to bodies piled up in a concentration camp. So if trustees and lay persons do not wish to enter the gruesome interiors of the towers is it fair to compel others to do so for a living? Are not the crematoriums clean and devoid of stinking corpses lying asunder? Are not cemetery grounds akin to rose gardens? Are not graves neatly placed with shrubbery and trees? The corpses in the coffins may be decomposing but the sight is hidden from everyone’s view. The cemetery employees don’t have to view rotting bodies the way khandhias do.
Why should the dakhmas alone be houses of horror? With the departure of the vultures, the dakhmas lost their cleansing agents. The winged scavengers would have stripped the body, leaving only some skin and the skeleton. The solar panels dehydrate the body, but not during the monsoons.
It is only when Parsis have alternative options for disposal of the dead and when lay people are obligated to carry corpses into the towers of silence along with the khandhias, that both the dependence on pallbearers and the stigma attached to their profession may lessen.
“However abhorrent it might seem to Parsiana readers and others, the soliciting of alms at Bombay’s Doongerwadi should not occasion surprise,” writes Vajifdar. “Grandly termed ‘pallbearers,’ these khandhias and nassesalars have no recourse other than begging to sustain them through the appalling life to which we (yes, all of us!) have condemned them and their immediate families. Begging for them has become a situational necessity; however embarrassing to some, it is not a crime.
“Just think: we, who forever promote ourselves as advanced, educated, enlightened and superior — with the built-in ‘Parsi, thy name is charity(!)’ — have over three-and-a-half centuries ensured a noxious apartheid culture, one of dhongi priests, ignorant laity and the lamentable underclass of morticians (to use a polite term). The comparison with the status of the Chandanwadi (crematorium) staff does not bear scrutiny: we have ensured the otherness of our dakhma workers by inflicting a vile ostracism upon them and their close kin. We may well strive to forget this apartheid of disallowing them from temples, jashans, gahanbars, navjotes and weddings... We further impose the repeated tedious cleansings they are forced to undergo (with rancid bulls’ urine, and naught else than water). Not content with that, they… publicly at least, cannot hold any other occupation. Despite knowing all this, we begrudge them a pathetic emolument by way of ‘begging!’ Why pass harsh judgments on those we have already penalized?”
In our write-up and our Editorial Viewpoint (“A loss of dignity,” Parsiana, December 21, 2006) we had pointed out that while one could not condone the practice of begging, one had to be sympathetic to the lot of the pallbearers. Since then the BPP reportedly pressured their employees’ union to get the khandhias to stop the practice which the pallbearers did. But the asking of alms was only a symbolic manifestation of a greater ill, the creation of a socially inferior sub caste. Not tackling the core problem, the malpractice has resurfaced.
There are around 18 khandhias and nassessalars at Doongerwadi who earn around Rs 20,000 to Rs 25,000 a month, according to the Bombay Parsi Punchayet (BPP) chief executive officer (CEO) Mehli Colah. They are also provided accommodation or an allowance for housing, medical benefits, educational assistance for their children, etc. “Even if they were paid Rs 35,000 they would still continue seeking handouts,” says former BPP CEO Behram Dastur. When they were questioned as to why they indulged in the practice, the khandhias reportedly replied, “We are not asking. People give.”
The financial incentive to ask for alms cannot be the compelling factor. After all there are people in Bombay who earn Rs 5,000 and Rs 6,000 or less a month who receive no allowances for accommodation, medical aid, education, etc but never beg. Their self-esteem, upbringing and value system would not permit them to do so.
So what prompts middle-class, securely employed, Parsi Zoroastrian pallbearers to solicit alms? The answer lies in the nature of their work. The community treats them as social outcastes, unwelcome guests, an ill omen. The BPP trustees may sit with them for a dinner, but this is little more than an act of condescension. The khandhias et al can easily see through this façade of camaraderie.
The pallbearers also know that the trustees have no choice but to kowtow to their might. They are unionized, they are voters (much to the chagrin of many who believe only the privileged should be given the right to elect a BPP trustee) and they can bring the entire system of dakhmenashini to a halt if they decide to strike — a threat they have effectively used in the past. If the trustees act in a high-handed manner, their approach may boomerang. “Doongerwadi is the Achilles’ heel of the BPP,” says Dastur. No trustee and few lay people — even those who publicly sing the praises of dakhmenashini — would be willing to carry corpses into the dakhmas.
As BPP trustee Khojeste Mistree never fails to inform audiences, the interiors of the towers of silence are not a “rose garden.” According to Dastur it is more akin to bodies piled up in a concentration camp. So if trustees and lay persons do not wish to enter the gruesome interiors of the towers is it fair to compel others to do so for a living? Are not the crematoriums clean and devoid of stinking corpses lying asunder? Are not cemetery grounds akin to rose gardens? Are not graves neatly placed with shrubbery and trees? The corpses in the coffins may be decomposing but the sight is hidden from everyone’s view. The cemetery employees don’t have to view rotting bodies the way khandhias do.
Why should the dakhmas alone be houses of horror? With the departure of the vultures, the dakhmas lost their cleansing agents. The winged scavengers would have stripped the body, leaving only some skin and the skeleton. The solar panels dehydrate the body, but not during the monsoons.
It is only when Parsis have alternative options for disposal of the dead and when lay people are obligated to carry corpses into the towers of silence along with the khandhias, that both the dependence on pallbearers and the stigma attached to their profession may lessen.
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