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In 1973, a London West End hit called No sex please, we are British played to full houses. The Brits were pilloried as a nation of flat beer, soggy chips and insipid fish. Our dramatically declining numbers may lead many to believe that, like the Brits, we too have lost it. A disproportionately large number of spinsters and bachelors give an impression that Parsis are no longer like the birds and the bees. Nearly 31% of the community is 65 plus, as compared to the national average of seven percent. Retirees go to bed, and go to sleep, early. May be wealthy and wise, though not always healthy. Has our libido hit a nadir or are we still fit and proper?
The national census does not collate data on sex habits. Although Parsi demographic studies abound, no one has produced a thesis on sexual behavior. The Bombay Parsi Punchayet will allot priority housing to those who furnish evidence that they are engaged to get married [we do know of some fake lagan ni chithis (wedding invites)] but not to those who are in a live-in relationship. Perhaps, the trustees believe that our hallowed baugs ought not to be defiled by premarital sex. In the absence of any authentic Parsi sexuality studies, only anecdotal material can be considered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those who believe that the genial bawaji is hardly interested in the subject, are mistaken. A few generations ago, Parsis in rural and semi urban areas had large families. Our maternal grandmother delivered her last born (ninth) child, exactly nine months after her first born daughter had already delivered her child. (Spending time on watching television detracts from time in bed.) They married while in their teens and wasted no time in procreating. In the mores of those times, premarital sex was rare, not due to lack of opportunity and space (large houses offered plentiful privacy); but the fear of losing virginity (older women of the household would carefully examine the bridal night bedsheet for telltale signs, the morning after). With hardly any access to contraception [barring raw papayas from the backyard tree or for those who had no easy access to trees, boiled concentrate of ajmo/ajwain (bishop’s weed/carom seeds) in hot water], fear of pregnancy would deter even the most robust. Unlike Hindus, since cousins were the most likely marriage partners, some did begin physical relationships early. Resulting accidents were quickly converted into rushed matrimony, with curious ladies slyly eyeing the bride’s belly to estimate the month of conception. Popular Parsi folklore had it that a pregnant bride made a great wife.
In the villages of Gujarat, it was commonplace for Parsi men to maintain non-Parsi mistresses. The controversial Vansda navjotes, of children born of such alliances, rocked the community’s orthodox bastions. Conducted by the then liberal priest, Dastur Framroze Bode, and encouraged by a Gandhian social worker, Burjorji Bharucha, these navjotes were a bold attempt to assimilate children of Parsi fathers, and Hindu mothers from economically weaker sections, into the mainstream.
Until the 1980s, when some mohollas (localities) in Navsari, Valsad and Surat still retained their Parsi character, the occasional dalliance with non-Parsi women, mostly domestic help, continued. In a particular town of Gujarat, a particular traditional family, whose leader occupied a pride of place at ceremonial occasions decided to fill up their deceased leader’s vacancy by somewhat surprisingly appointing a soft spoken, docile, nondescript bank manager. Days before his coronation, the leader elect was spotted exiting his domestic help’s hut in the late afternoon and the shocked elders nixed his appointment. Parsis have coined an original term for an afternoon foray — ‘baporyoon (afternoon sex).’
In the bygone era, infidelity, so long as not in the face, was silently admired as a sign of manliness. In the early 1960s, when business travel abroad was in its infancy, a foreign ‘returned’ Parsi businessman would be asked by his envious friends — "Kèm, Minocher, Germany ma tipu mooki né aaya ké (Did you leave any potential heirs in Germany)?” Those who continued to be sexually active until their 70s were admired even by their children: "Bawa, ajun bhi golat marvanu nai chuké (Even at his age, father can still perform)!” At the uthamna ceremony of a serial philanderer, the mourners would non-judgementally remark that " marhoom, manas saara, pan naara na dhilla utta (The deceased, though a good man, had loose pyjama strings).”
More than three decades ago, in our early days of legal practice, one of our first clients was a Parsi gentleman of leisure with an aristocratic lineage. During a visit to Poona, he made us wait in his Fiat, as he went to visit his tailor. He returned after a good 50 minutes, so we asked with a trace of irritation, as to why it took so long to give measurements. The tailor died four years ago, he replied nonchalantly. Enjoying our perplexed look, he volunteered that the tailor’s daughter was his good friend. He sincerely believed that Parsi men possessed unparalleled prowess in matters sexual.
Two fundamentalist priestly brothers from London echoed this gentleman’s views, when they told a stunned management committee of AIMZ (Association of Inter-Married Zoroastrians) that Parsi ladies married to non-Parsi men did not know what they were missing. The immodesty of such macho claims apart, quite a few Parsi men find Parsi women a trifle too dominating and aggressive, which acts as a ‘put off’ factor; resulting in non-Parsi women appearing attractive as partners. On the other hand, as the fiddler on the roof would say, Parsi women find Parsi men to be sissy, insipid and mumma’s boys. Decades of genetic inbreeding has perhaps produced a reci- procal revulsion factor — nature’s way of restoring a healthy balance — a recipe for the galloping number of interfaith marriages.
Legendary tales abound. There was this famous race horsetrainer of yesteryears, believed to have consumed a live queen ant, which endowed him with libido to populate nearly half a village near Poona. A harassed sub-registrar of assurances would be bombarded by multiple claims to the immovable properties of the deceased trainer from persons claiming to be his sons and daughters. And then there was this building contractor in his late 60s, popularly known as ‘Sam Uncle,’ barely five foot tall; but to whose amazing stamina, half of Dhobi Talao would swear. Sam Uncle’s female counterpart was an air hostess in Dadar; old-timers in the airline would compare her to Catherine the Great of Russia, who was rumored to have died while copulating with a horse.
Someone ought to venture to write a screenplay for a Parsi new year natak to be called, Sex please, we are Parsis.