No pride in prejudice

Berjis Desai

 
 Traditionalists disrupting the Federation of the Parsi Zoroastrian Anjumans
 of India meeting in Ahmedabad in 2004
 
 
 
Gujri jafaaon bhaari, tau pun na chhodiyo dharam (endured many tribulations but did not forsake the faith), goes a couplet from the Parsi anthem Chhaiyé Hamé Zarthoshti which continues to make most misty eyed. It conjures up many a thought in our collective consciousness — survivors against all odds; honest and loyal refugees who created wealth only by hard work and dare; pioneers in every walk of life; excelling disproportionately to our minuscule numbers; different from the natives; racially and ethnically superior; cannot forget the marauding tribes who robbed us of our fatherland; my beloved community first, merit be damned. Legitimate pride soon gets converted into distrust, if not a morbid dislike of strangers.
The pressure to be politically correct often conceals this smouldering prejudice within. Of course, there is a micro minority which is ethically and intellectually pure enough not to be affected by any such embedded prejudice! For the rest, this affects rational decision making and often compromises the conscience. 
If all other things are more or less equal, would you prefer to hire a Parsi employee or engage the services of a Parsi doctor, lawyer, chartered accountant or other service provider? Would you rather have a Parsi tenant even if it means a slightly lower rent? Would you appoint your trusted non-Parsi friends as executors of your last will and testament? As an air steward, are you thrilled to serve a Parsi passenger? On a long haul flight, do you feel more secure on learning that the captain is a Parsi or make a special effort to be friendly with a Parsi co-passenger? If you are a judge, would you give greater latitude to a Parsi counsel arguing before you? A handful will answer, "Of course not.” A few will squirm in discomfort and shrug their shoulders. Many will proudly say, "Why not? We must look after our own first.”
The last mentioned group gets vociferous — "cut off this sanctimonious claptrap; we will perish if we don’t support our own; look at the Jews and the Kurds and other great surviving refugee groups who always stand united against the enemy without; each one of us is duty bound to prefer our brethren.” At least, this lot is honest. Most of us harbor these prejudices on the sly. This is often a gut reaction even in the otherwise secular minded. 
Many a justification can be advanced. We are like a drop of water in the ocean, in great danger of dissipation. We must look out for each other, otherwise we simply cannot survive. We are so different from the others — our culture, our ethos, our way of life — naturally, we feel comfortable and happy with our own. We understand and appreciate each other the best — our idiosyncrasies, our eccentricities, our unique sense of humor. The world over, ethnic groups are becoming more close knit and parochial. Look at Brexit, Donald Trump, the rise of extreme right populist leaders in Western democracies, ISIS (Islamic State of Iraq and Syria) and the migrant crisis. All are closing ranks. Political correctness is being dumped in the dustbin, along with once cherished liberal values. There is no room for woolly headed intellectuals. If we have to choose between survival and communal bias, the answer is self-evident. 
The road from mild bias to gross prejudice to xenophobia is rapid. We have never been a prickly minority. We have not demanded special status or reservations or protection from the state or society. We are perceived as honest, fair, soft-spoken, gentle and harmless. Is all this about to change?
Parsi properties should only be in Parsi hands, contend the hardliners. Even secular charities controlled by Parsis must give preference to Parsi beneficiaries. Buildings, such as some in Dadar Parsi Colony (DPC), though not bound by the Parsis only covenant, must retain their Parsis only character. The Bombay Parsi Punchayet must only appoint Parsi staff. Paranoia is infectious. The hard line is becoming popular. Even those who have married outside the faith or those who advocate the throwing open of funeral ceremonies to non-Parsis are beginning to believe that having a communal bias is permissible.
Often the dividing line is thin and grey. Recently, our long time bank relationship manager, not a Parsi, changed jobs and wanted us to switch our investment portfolio to his new institution. As his performance was good, we readily agreed and directed a transfer. We were soon confronted by a teary eyed young Parsi lady from the old bank who begged us to retain at least a part of the portfolio. A bright young lass from DPC, brought up by a widowed mother overcoming great odds, then softly said, "Sir, all things apart, we are both Parsis.” We agreed to retain half the portfolio with her. We questioned ourselves whether our decision was based on compassion or subconscious communal bias; and if we, accused of being anti-Parsi a million times, can think thus, what about the rest? 
Decades ago, a viciously litigating Parsi client of ours was advised as a litigation strategy to write to the government authorities about his bitter and equally vicious opponent. The otherwise ruthless gentleman exclaimed, "He is my enemy all right, but a Parsi. I will lose the case but never set the juddin government against him.” This will warm the cockles of the hearts of the vocal brigade who proudly prefer to wear communalism on their sleeves. In an unspoken manner, expectations are growing within the community that we will, in all situations, first look after our own. Many don’t even have to make a conscious decision, it happens automatically from within. As this attitude spreads like slow poison, our community’s image as being a cut above the rest in fairness is bound to suffer. "Don’t worry about your image, dikra. If we don’t fend for each other, we just won’t survive,” says the openly communal brigade. No prizes for guessing who is winning the debate.

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