The muktads are an appropriate time to dwell on the religious well-being of the community. It’s the time of year when perforce many community members will visit a fire temple to remember their dear departed loved ones. Though crowds thronging agiaries in Bombay are mostly a thing of the past, the 10 monsoon days each in July and August are perhaps the only time the community as a whole indulges in a religious activity and interacts with the clergy.
Not all agiaries see footfalls. Some are bereft of vases commemorating the dead while others have them aplenty, though the numbers are declining. In the case of the former, the fire temple misses out on one of the few opportunities to earn income with which to manage the institution. On most other days the agiaries are devoid of worshippers. Not only are people increasingly secular but the day-to-day pressures of city and working life leave little energy for visits to fire temples, not to mention the costs of commuting and the time entailed. Even fire temples nestled in the midst of colonies have fewer visitors than in the past.
Often, family members married to non-Parsis find they are not welcome in community religious institutions, thus further reducing this dwindling, aging community’s worshippers. If these religious institutions could survive the drop in numbers, this fall would not be a cause of material concern. Most traditionalists pride themselves on such exclusions. However, not all community members are rigid in their outlook. They realize the need to be more welcoming. They view the family members’ exclusion as a detriment to fostering the religion which they claim is universal and accepting.
For some devotees, pre-assigned timings for attending religious ceremonies could be a constraint for attending the prayers in agiaries. With only a limited number of priests available, the convenient time slots are limited. Some panthakies allocate time to each family when prayers will be performed. Unless devotees apply for leave from work or are retired, they have to adjust the prayer timings to suit their professional schedule. The part-time priests who make the functioning of the muktads possible also have to alter their work commitments/timings.
The panthakies or managers of fire temples try their best to thoughtfully map out their parish’s demands within their scarce resources. At some well patronized fire temples, prominently placed computerized spreadsheets announce the jashan timings for different families and some even have the positioning of the tables indicated to facilitate devotees. A miscalculation would upset devotees, annoy the mobeds and have ramifications for years to come.
While families tend to remain with their ancestral fire temple/panthak over generations, geographic relocations even within the confines of a city means this is not always possible. A panthaky cannot always assume his clientele is assured. As Parsis shift residences, the fire temples left behind lose their legacy customers. Long-term planning becomes a challenge.
Can technology help cope with the growing complexities of managing a religious institution in a volatile world? Can it help to bring devotees back to the fire temples or at least stem the downward slide? Or, alternatively, bring the temple experience to their homes? Does religion have to be restricted by geography? Some overseas Zoroastrian associations while organizing congregational satum, afringan, farokshi, humbandagi prayers at their dar-e-meher also streamline the sessions on YouTube or other platforms.
Not many studies have been undertaken on the impact of technology on religious worship. But in the absence of easily and economically accessible alternatives, telecommunications may be the only viable alternative. This approach faces barriers. One devotee who was reading prayers on his mobile phone was pulled up by the priest present who instructed him to read them from a prayer book instead. On the other hand another devotee noticed the presence of a laptop in a muktad hall.
Could a combination of artificial intelligence, the Internet, voice commands serve a spiritual purpose? Or will people bemoan the lost religious sanctity, that special quality that separates the worldly from the ethereal?
A query to ChatGPT on the effects of technology on religion noted: "Technology is transforming religion by making it more accessible, interactive and global. However, it also raises important questions about authenticity, authority and the essence of religious experience. Faith communities continue to navigate how to balance tradition with innovation.”
We can also question how much spirituality one could absorb from having prayers recited at great speed by a third, often unknown and maybe indifferent, party? Also, distracted or bored devotees scrolling through their mobiles or chatting with one another during the ceremonies, lessens the religiosity and solemnity of the occasion and demotivates the priests.
In other religions the worshipper participates in some aspect of the ceremony. Amongst Parsis, aside from placing some incense and sandalwood on the unconsecrated fire at the end of the rituals, there is no singing of hymns, recital of paras from prayers or the swirling of an aarti flame. Many devotees are more concerned about the time and the unattended to household or office chores.
Some note that the manner in which the ceremonies are conducted is not eco-friendly. The flowers in the vases are discarded daily, much sandalwood is burned. There must be ways to avoid these extravagances. Zoroastrianism is said to be an eco-friendly religion. When remembering our dear departed we must remain true to our core teachings.
The muktads may prove to be a good occasion to blend our religious observances with modern-day requirements and mores.