Reinforcing religiosity
The mammoth restoration of the Iranshah Atash Behram undertaken by the Shapoorji Pallonji Mistry family is an indication of the faith Parsis and Zoroastrians have in this most sacred community house of worship. The unstinting time, money and effort devoted to the 127-year-old edifice stands testimony not only to the Mistry family’s religious leanings, but also to the magnetic draw of this most ancient of consecrated fires in India.
Few structures have had so much attention lavished on them. Usually a paucity of funds and human resources restrict the work needed to be undertaken. For the repairs to another fire temple recently, restoring the original wooden frames of a single window would have cost as much as tending to all the windows of the institution. The cheaper alternative was opted for. Likewise, painting over existing layers is preferred to scraping and painting anew as that is costlier. At the Iranshah Atash Behram several layers of old paint were scraped so the original stone work could be viewed.
Having amassed their wealth in real estate development over several generations, the Mistry family was able to not only finance but also share their expertise in creating and maintaining structures. The family also has longstanding ties with Udvada, owning a bungalow facing a portion of the beach in that south Gujarat coastal village. In 2018 they restored the 132-year-old adarian in Vesu, also in south Gujarat, as the family patriarch Shapoorji Pallonji Mistry was born there in 1887. "Each morning at sunrise after an early bath he (Shapoorji) faced the east and said his Avesta prayers and he never set out to work without once visiting his favorite agiary," wrote family friend Ratan Karaka (see "The last of the sethias," Parsiana, February-March, 1975).
The intricate work of restoration is dependent on non-Parsi craftsmen. As architect Hanoz Ichhaporia rightly stated, "We are the ones talking; they are the ones actually slogging in the sun" (see "The resplendent restoration," pg 25). He, therefore, like several others, was dismayed at traditionalists voicing outrage at non-Parsi school children dressed in white kurtas and dhotis visiting the Atash Behram precincts prior to the re-enthroning of the fire on December 14, 2021. They recited Sanskrit shlokas (verses).
Compare the students’ attire with the multicolored pants, tops, dresses, salwar kameez, bush-shirts and the like that Parsis today wear to this holiest of holy pilgrimage site. In the past, Parsi pilgrims wore white saris and duglis or white coats buttoned at the collar while visiting the fire temple.
Some complained about government and elected officials visiting the fire temple’s kebla (the room where the fire is installed) with their shoes on while the renovations were in progress. Did they assume all the laborers who toiled there were barefoot?
Can one even plaster a wall in a private residence or office without the risk of some municipal official raising an objection? Even repairs to a fire temple require local permissions and authorization. If officials and political leaders are welcomed and shown around, they are more inclined to assist with the cumbersome formalities. Minorities in any country exist in a tenuous state. Parsis are blessed not having to face institutionalized persecution in India. Other minorities are not so privileged.
Fortunately, the critical, vocal elements received little support from the high priests. Parsis wax eloquent on how they left Iran to preserve their faith but tend to forget that non Parsis extended them sanctuary. If the religion was imperiled elsewhere, in India the faithful were free to practice Zoroastrianism unhindered.
Though the Indian Parsi population continues to diminish, the number of fire temples remains largely the same. In towns and villages where Parsis cease to exist, agiaries fall into disuse and disrepair. The structures are stripped of their furnishings, doors and windows, and the land is encroached upon. In Bombay, there are around 51 fire temples that once catered to a population of nearly 70,000 Parsis. The community now probably numbers below 30,000 in the city. This amounts to one fire temple for every 600 Parsis. If all 600 visited a fire temple once in a year it would account for less than two visitors a day. Of course, many do visit more often but not all 600 go to a fire temple. Some pray at home, many are elderly and infirm, a few are not religiously inclined and several worship at religious institutions of other faiths. While the number of devotees and income keep diminishing, agiaries still have to pay salaries, buy kathi (wood for the fire), maintain the physical structure, and so on.
Aside from the fire temples, many of the sandalwood shops, kiosks and vendors have seen their business and income shrink. Some have closed their establishments either due to a lack of clientele or because the owners died and no successor willing to shoulder the responsibility was identified. Even the N. M. Wadia Dharamshala, a short distance from the Udvada railway station, is moribund or closed, according to WhatsApp texts. A reason cited is a dearth of guests. In the old days, people who visited Udvada by train or car would stop there to rest, have a bath, put on a fresh set of clothes, visit the Iranshah and return the same day or the next. Nowadays with express highways many return the same day. The dharamshalas and hotels that once flourished are either shut or survive largely on weekend visitors. If the supporting establishments in the mecca of the Parsis are not sustained, what fate awaits the other venues? Who will look after not only the fire temples but also the attendant infrastructure?
Houses of worship are usually frequented depending on their proximity, accessibility for the disabled, hygiene, surroundings, allegiance to the priests, legends of miracles, and so on. A well maintained religious establishment is more likely to attract patrons.
By meticulously restoring the structure that houses the most holy of fires, the Mistry family has provided the faith and the faithful with a fresh lease of life.