No criticism please, we are Parsis

Younger readers may not recall an English theater production called No Sex Please, We Are British. Our chillingly declining numbers are a testimony to our empathy with the Brits. Though some macho Parsis may contend that we are firing alright, these are mostly blanks. While those on the fringe maintain that the second coming of the Lord shall reverse demographic trends (Gayomard and a Soshyosh aideryad baad, our prayers say), their estranged brethren in the mainstream accuse this publication of manipulating statistics (and exposing damned lies).
A decade ago, the above paragraph would have elicited a wry smile. Today it evokes anger and indignation (though not of the righteous kind). The facts are incorrect: (denial mode). Even if they are correct, why publish it: (ostrich approach). You are an enemy of the community: (Taliban attitude). Even if you are only the messenger, we shall shoot you for bringing bad news. Leave us alone in our cocoon of disbelief. Voltaire may have said that I disagree with you but I shall defend to my death your right to disagree with me. Voltaire be damned, unity of the community is the need of the hour and your dissent is pernicious and we shall not tolerate it. We may have mingled like sugar in milk, as promised to our royal shelter-giver, but now like those suffering from lactose intolerance, we are allergic to criticism.
In fairness to the orthodox, this intolerance is not limited to them alone. It pervades across the spectrum of thought. Is this then the extreme prickliness of those feeling doomed or is it a newfound feeling of bristling aggression? When a person is aware of the weaknesses in his case, he does not want any public expose of such weaknesses. He, therefore, goes the extra mile to stifle any criticism. Respect for another’s viewpoint is lost the moment one doubts bona fides. These days, there is too much doubting of bona fides. It is quickly presumed that anyone in community service must be having a personal agenda. True, many do. However, one cannot tar with the same brush the few who don’t.
The biggest problem facing the community today is not declining demographics but cold indifference. The very fact that you are reading this shows that you do have some interest in the community. Unfortunately, you are in a minority. Most Parsis have a soft corner for the community but nothing more. Only a micro minority is concerned with what happens to the Parsis. Overwhelming numbers believe that the trustees of our charities are a bunch of clowns viciously fighting each other. The beneficiaries greet trustees with a polite smile only so as not to affront them. What the community thinks about our trustees privately is unprintable. The much abused phrase Parsipanu is not that annual visit to the agiary or watching a putrid Parsi comedy or gorging (and exhibiting loutish behavior — editors) at the Ripon Club on Wednesday afternoons. Even the intelligent spare little thought for the issues threatening the existence of the community. This has led to the affairs of the community being handled by, believe it or not, a dozen odd Parsis.
This concentration of power amongst the dozen (we shall eschew the adjective), needless to state, is dangerous. The vicious hatred amongst them is very unParsi. Like battle scarred gladiators, they lick their bruised egos and yearn to see their opponents humiliated. These war games have now spilled over from the media into the courts of law. Many of these worthies are street fighters who love a bloody brawl, merely for the heck of it, as their non-community careers are uniformly boring and pedestrian. They and their followers, of liberal or orthodox hue, sincerely believe that they are the saviors of the community. The indifference of the community feeds their delusions of grandeur. And why blame the tadpole for thinking that he is the master of the cesspool?
As a result, there is no dispassionate expert thinking about how to tackle issues. The cesspool is so turbid that no one wants to step into it. Painstaking sociological research is dismissed as biased. Suggestions to reform charities are seen as motivated. No one wants to be shown a mirror to look into. They do not want confirmation of the ugliness.
A few years ago only those whom we affectionately like to call fruitcakes, reacted angrily to criticism. Now, all do. When few can even bear to be told the truth, disaster is not far away. Our much touted sense of humor was founded on the fundamental premise of having the ability to laugh at ourselves. We have so terribly lost that ability, in the process of protecting our puny egos. The community is already mentally extinct.

Berjis M. Desai, managing partner of J. Sagar Associates, advocates and solicitors, is a writer and community activist.