Once in every 50 years when the Parsiana office is repainted as part of its half century beautification program, all personnel are required to go through their collection of folders, files, clippings, CDs, floppy discs, expired aspirin strips, half eaten batasas and clear out non-essentials.
To our amazement at the bottom of a pile of files dumped between the editorial and advertising departments, a staff member came across a handwritten manuscript lodged in a shoe box. At first we thought the box contained — you guessed it — velvet sapats but when we shook the cardboard container we heard only a rustle. An alert employee, Jalamai Tidywala then decided to check the contents before consigning it to the dustbin along with all the unpaid bills, letters of complaints, legal notices, court summons, defamation suit papers, etc.
Lo and behold she realized we had uncovered a real treasure, one of the original Qisse-e-Sanjan manuscripts written by Behdin Pestonjee Penwalla from Pars who came over on the first two boats from Iran to Sanjan. The other boats came later as they had dropped anchor en route at the duty free port of Aden to stock up on supplies of blue Chinese porcelain, muslin, virgin Australian wool, Swiss chocolates, New Zealand butter, etc.
A journalist, Penwalla had meticulously noted all the travails of the hopeful immigrants on their tortuous journey from Bandar Abbas to Sanjan.
We quote verbatim from Penwalla’s manuscript:
"Upon landing in Sanjan they ordered some bhel puri from the many stalls on the beach in order to establish a rapport with the indigenous mercantile community. Since they didn’t have the local currency they offered a litre of oil instead. This resulted in some heated discussions as to how many plates of sev puri should be a fair barter for the golden liquid. After all, since cars were not invented at the time why would anyone need oil except to quieten a squeaky bullock cart wheel.
This is when the Sanjan traders realized they were not dealing with a bunch of tourists who had lost their way nor some NRIs (non-resident Indians) doing a Gujarat yatra, but pucca (pure) businesspeople.
Fearful of foreign competition (FERA — Foreign Exchange Regulations Act had not been introduced at that time nor restrictions on FDI — Foreign Direct Investment — in retail) the Gujarati merchants reported the arrival of the boatloads to the Sanjan taluka mamlatdar.
Keeping in mind the need to attract foreign investment while at the same time placating the local shopkeepers the official politely asked to see the newcomers’ visas. The Indian embassy in Tehran was wary of giving tourist visas to Iranians as Iran was engaged in making lightweight spears and alloy shields, a violation of the International Non-Proliferation Metallic Arms Treaty. Plus the migrants didn’t have income tax clearance (more about this later).
The leader of the Parsi delegation, Osti Goolistan Garbarwalla (GG) known for her quick thinking claimed there was a storm at sea and besides reciting the kusti prayers to quell the waters, they threw all the passports overboard to lighten the load; also some of the baggage of deck class passengers. The first class passengers had a higher baggage allowance. It was a brilliant story but the officer said if passports were not shown, only the local ruler, Namo Maharaj (NM) could take a decision.
NM welcomed visitors with a bowl of milk. The kingdom had started a co-operative dairy enterprise in the region and was producing more milk than they could consume or export. Many of the Parsis, being allergic to milk, vegetables, fruits, etc added sugar to the milk to make it more palatable and then politely offered some to the Raja.
"Not another sugar-in-the-milk ploy!” an exasperated NM slapped his hand to his forehead and exclaimed, "Can’t you people be original? Every second group that comes here tries this same gambit. Half my courtiers have become diabetic, not to mention obese.”
There was much consternation in the immigrant camp. Ungrateful followers turned on GG saying they had suggested gifts of papri malido and popatji. In her defence GG said she had read about the sugar-in-the-milk routine in some magazine in Yazd but never imagined the publication was delivered outside the Pars district (unlike Parsiana which is read all over the world — editors). GG replied there was no time for cooking besides they had run out of gas. She was considering offering dates when NM remarked, "Tell the other boatloads to offer pistachio and gaz instead of gifting us our own produce.”
"Besides,” he added, "all categories of immigration quotas such as traders, businessmen, skilled labor, domestics, students, IT (iron technologists) are full, save one. Due to some human rights violation in south Gujarat we have to accept a certain quota of individuals under the damned religious persecution/asylum category.”
"Great,” said GG. "Instead of the resident permit quota we don’t mind being listed in the persecution category. We’ll say we came to Sanjan to preserve our reet-rivaj and Parsipanu.”
"But someone has to be actually persecuting you,” remarked the king.
"Would tax collectors or creditors qualify? We’ve been falling behind in our jizya tax payments,” replied GG.
NM: "A tax on jazz? Tomorrow they’ll be taxing dandia ras! We’ll give you refuge. But tell me how are those Zoroastrians who stayed behind coping with the persecution? Why didn’t they also leave?”
Why indeed? The new settlers had no answer: Once again GG came up with a brainwave: "Many of them could not get visas!” Some went to China under the Iran-China bhai-bhai (unity) policy. But with the Chinese one-child policy they’ve nearly all died out.
"That’s an idea. If we let you stay you must promise to restrict your numbers and one day fade away. There is a strong anti-immigration sentiment amongst the natives and we don’t want any Arab spring here.”
Ever since that time the Parsis have honored their word.