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Whenever I think of my childhood I go back to 21, Marine Lines, my maternal grandmother’s home. Marine Lines was a road that had stately homes, mainly belonging to Parsis. They had three floors and each had an attached kitchen, servants’ quarters and godowns. The garages for cars and horses and carriages were at the rear of the house. 

We had a small room with a covered veranda and a separate kitchen reserved especially for the muktad at the rear of the ground floor of our house. On the right, near the muktad room, was a well in the garden, whose water was used for the prayers. The most interesting part was that the fisherwomen would cross the local railway lines (there was no Marine Drive at that time), walk across the sands with baskets full of taji tarferty machhi (fresh fish) for us and carry back handas (vessels) of fresh well water for themselves.

In the front of the house was a veranda with steps and a landing from where we stepped into and out of the horse-drawn carriages. There were two gates to the house, so that the horses and carriages could turn around easily. The houses were separated by low-hedged walls and trees. We had pomelo, mango and chikoo trees in our garden and in front was a lawn surrounded by flowerbeds.

Mamaiji (maternal grandmother) had a Maharashtrian woman whom we called Mahtari (old woman), who had a kholi (servant’s quarters) at the back and made the most delectable bajrachi roti. I would go to her and she would make a small one for me and smear it with a little of her fabulous lasunchi (garlic) chutney. I would take it to the chikoo tree, sit under it with my doll and invite the fairies to come and eat with me!

We went for a walk to Bandstand every evening with our Goan ayahs, and on Sundays we went to Apollo Bunder with Mamaiji and munched pistachio nuts bought for eight annas a packet.

As in most Parsi homes, ours had a divo burning 24 hours a day. Those who could not burn it all day would at least light a divo every night. After my mother completed her morning prayers she would take a small afarganiu, lit with sandalwood and loban, all around the house, spreading the beautiful aroma of the sandalwood and frankincense, while cleansing the house of night odors. This was repeated at sundown by a servant. He would take the afarganiu to each room and every member of the family present in the house would sprinkle in some loban — a useful way to clear the house of mosquitoes for the night.

The streets were lit with beautiful, ornate gas lamps. At dusk the street-lighter in charge of our street would come with two rods, one on each shoulder, rhythmically moving from side to side and running at a gentle, steady pace. He would open the shutters with one rod and light the lamps with the other. I was enchanted watching him, even at the tender age of four or five years. I would play, amongst other games, pavra pois (where a child is made to jump whilst balancing on the feet of an older person who is seated) and kankario kumar (where schoolgoing children clench one fist and each one places a fist over the other one’s while reciting tunes denoting one-upmanship) with my cousins and brothers, which was a lot of fun.

I was five years old when I first saw a dead body — my maternal grandmother had died. In those days a behdin’s body was laid out with the legs bent at the knees and tucked in under the body, while an athoran’s was laid out straight. This is not done any longer and everyone’s body is laid out straight. But one still follows the custom of washing one’s face and hands with water before entering the home after attending a funeral. The custom of the close family abstaining from meat for three days is also a good one, as with immediate sorrow a light diet is better for the digestive system. The fast is broken on the fourth day with dhansakh, which is why dhansakh is never served on an auspicious occasion. In those days most funerals were performed on the ground floor of the home.

I looked forward to the muktads for two reasons, as I grew older. First, my brothers and I had the five Gatha days off as holidays and were free from the Mehtaji (tutor) who taught us Gujarati and aank (multiplication tables). If we made a mistake he made us do ooth-bes (sit-ups), holding on to our ears, 10 times. The second was the arrival of Meherbai, our gorani (a woman cook specializing in food offerings for religious ceremonies), when a wonderful gastronomic session would start. Meherbai came from Bandra to Churchgate station by the local train and walked the short distance to our house. We had a beautiful dog called Woolly, with large, light brown spots and a bushy tail. Meherbai always gave him the traditional kutra no buk (morsel for the dog). He in turn accompanied her to the station in the evenings and went there in the mornings to bring her home.

The muktad is observed in remembrance of our departed near and dear ones. They are also called the Farvardin days, when the souls of the departed are invited to their earthly homes. 

Muktad in Mamaiji’s time were observed for 18 days. Now it is observed for 10. The first five days are called ‘panje keh’ or five small days and the next five, which are the Gatha days, when we pray the Gathas, one each day, are called ‘panje mah’ or five big days. It continues for seven days after Navroz for those who observe it for 18 days.

The seventh day after Navroz, Amardad roj, is the day the fravashis return to their heavenly abode. A bhut nu bhonu (food for the ghost) is prepared the night before. It consists of a hamper, which is tied in a tablecloth, with a few coins kept in a small bundle. This is meant for the fravashis on their journey back. On this day the last of the flowers are removed from the vases and thrown into the sea or river.

During these days the family priest or ghér no panthaky came home and prayed three times a day. The food for the departed souls was cooked by Meherbai and prayed upon. We would eat Meherbai’s delectable food, including the malido and papri, at lunch from thalis. 

The afarganiu was placed on a stone slab and the food was placed on an aani (table with brass legs), near it. Also on the aani were the sandalwood, loban and the chipyo and chamcho. Each departed soul was represented by a vase, beautifully arranged with fresh flowers every day. The flowers were mainly roses and tuberoses brought down from Poona by the evening train. The ladies in the family took turns to arrange these flowers by 5 a.m., after bathing, washing their hair and covering their heads with a mathubanu. The room looked beautiful. 

As an Air Force officer’s wife I have traveled all over India and seen many muktads in many cities, but none arranged as beautifully as the ones in my grandmother’s home, until I came to Delhi. Here the tables are arranged in two semicircles, with an additional large afarganiu in the center. One table is reserved for each family who is observing the muktad and one for those who are willing to share a table with others — an anjuman table. Sixty to 70 vases are arranged every day by Dhun Bagli, who is in charge of the dharamshala and her daughter-in-law, Benaifer — each vase artistically done. The marble tables, sparkling silver vases, the shining brass legs of the tables, the beautiful flowers and the soft glow of the divas — to enter the agiary on a muktad day in Delhi is to uplift your soul.

Auspicious occasions 

In the lazy, hazy days of my youth in Bombay, the ‘nankhatai band’ came around on Pateti, playing popular tunes on request. After three or four numbers, and a bakshish (tip) of three to four rupees they went off to another place. 

As children, on our birthdays we got up early, had a sagan bath when a kutli (small receptacle) of milk with rose petals was poured over us, after which we had the regular bath and washed our hair. We wore everything new, even shoes and went to the fire temple after a breakfast of sév, dahi, ravo, hard-boiled eggs and élchi kéra (small yellow bananas). On Navroz, trays of sév, dahi, ravo, fish, hard-boiled eggs and élchi kéra were sent to close family and friends.

Meals on auspicious days were traditional Parsi food. Dhun dar né patio for lunch, along with a starter of sév and dahi and any other dishes the hostess would like to serve. On Jamshedi Navroz, the traditional food was faluda and Parsi pulao.

My family and most Parsi homes in those days in Bombay had excellent Goan cooks. We would have the traditional Parsi meal for lunch on auspicious occasions and a family get-together at night, where a continental meal was served.

Childbirth

I was born in my maternal grandmother’s home in Marine Lines, as were my brothers and cousins, with a lady doctor in attendance for the delivery. Forty days’ rest was essential in those days after the birth of the child, as it is now, but very few people realize this. My father, who was a gynecologist, told me when I had my babies, ‘Listen to your mother. It takes 40 days for the uterus to return to normal. So take rest. There is no need to stay in bed, but don’t lift heavy objects and remember, going down the stairs is more harmful than climbing them. Perform exercises to strengthen the stomach muscles (this, only if the delivery is a normal one) but don’t eat the heavy food she will insist you eat.’ I asked him to tell her but he flatly refused, saying that my figure was my responsibility. Today, of course, very few lucky women get the chance to take the rest we took in those days.

During pregnancy, the mother-to-be was pampered and allowed to eat whatever she wanted and whenever she wanted, which ended, at times, in gastronomic troubles. The panch masiu was performed in the fifth month and the aghernee in the seventh month of pregnancy. These were probably performed as thanksgiving because of the number of pre-natal deaths and miscarriages that occurred in those days.  

After childbirth the mother and child were isolated to protect them from infection. After 40 days, the mother had a nahn or ritual bath; mother and child wore new clothes and she took her child to the fire temple for the first time.

When a girl reaches puberty, the sari is put on her for the first time, with the usual sagan. During menstruation, a girl was expected to do dur bèsvanu (sit in isolation). She was isolated, had to sleep and sit on a metal bed and chair in a separate room. Food was served to her separately and she wore clothes reserved only for those days. She had to eat separately and was not allowed to bathe during those four days – just a sponge. On the fourth day she had a bath, washed her hair and returned to normal life. She was certainly not allowed to go to the fire temple. I refused to follow this regime and had my father’s support in this. The only thing I refrained from was going to the fire temple. This I did because fire temples belong to the community and I did not wish to hurt anyone’s sentiments. 

Navjote

Unlike today, I was a shy child and the thought of saying the navjote prayers in public terrified me. The ghér no panthaky, was a kind, gentleman, and taught me my prayers. On the day of the navjote, which took place at the Marine Lines house, I was made to have the nahn, preceded by some prayers and a sip of taro (consecrated bull’s urine). Today we use hom nu pani, a juice extracted from the hoama plant, while a special religious ceremony is performed. It is a species of ephedra and according to Sir J. J. Mody, in his book The Religious Ceremonies and Customs of the Parsis, is a medicinal plant that grows in Iran, Afghanistan and Baluchistan. It is described as being golden colored and having branches and sprigs.

After the nahn, I wore an eejar and the top of my body was covered with a beautiful shawl. My head was covered with a topi (cap) embroidered by my mother, with matching sapat (slippers). I was led to the navjote site and I stood there shivering nervously inside. When the prayers started, my aunt asked me to say them loudly as I was mumbling in fright, which made me even more nervous! Finally my prayers were done. 

The priest made me sit down, covered me with the shawl, put on a teeli (dot of vermillon on the forehead) and a garland and gave me a bouquet of flowers with a coconut. He then prayed the Tandarosti, showering me with rice and rose petals. Finally the ceremony was over and I could heave a sigh of relief. I was greeted by my mother who helped me put on a beautiful badian (top) of pink lace. Then came the relatives and friends with good wishes and presents, after which I was taken to the fire temple, where I did my kusti for the first time alone. We returned home to the lovely traditional lunch. In the evening, relatives and friends were invited for dinner in the garden.

Wedding

In the days of my grandparents and parents, marriages were generally arranged. Falling in love was considered shocking! The girl and boy were allowed to meet after their respective parents had approved the match, and that was that. They could not meet alone. I’d be darned if I had to                   see a man just once and say the fateful ‘yes!’

The tradition of wearing white                          is not copied from the West. We use white as a symbol of purity. There were many people who embroidered kors (borders) and saris in my younger days,                                                              in Bombay. Manekbai Mulla, my masi, had Muslim karigars who did excellent embroidery with gold, silver, silk, beads, etc. My wedding sari was copied from a lace piece placed in my mother’s wedding sés. It was a white silk with dull and bright silver embroidery. The lace piece was made into my blouse. Piroja Narielwalla was another lady who had exquisite embroidery done in her workshop. There was a time when it appeared that our traditional saris and borders were dying out, but it is refreshing to see that the gara and embroidered saris and borders are being revived. I have an exceptional red ghat with a multi­coloured cheena-cheeni (Chinese figures) pattern. The pattern is repeated to cover the entire sari, but not a single pattern has the same coloring. It was brought to India by my grandmother’s maternal uncle for his bride. On his wedding day he saw that the girl sitting next to him was not the girl he had seen and accepted. Gentleman that he was, he went through the wedding ceremony and the next day gave the sari to his mother, telling her he had not touched the girl and she could give the sari to anyone she wanted, as he was going back to China, never to return. 

My wedding was in my home — a small intimate affair in our spacious drawing room. It was beautifully decorated by my cousins — all in white. White flowers in large vases and torans on the doors, which were draped with white voile curtains. Mehli Mehta and his three-piece band were in attendance. 

Parsi weddings usually take place just after the sun has set — as the day melts into the night and they merge, so too will the married couple. Yet there is another belief that weddings and navjotes should take place between 10.30 and 11 a.m., as the sun’s rays are most beneficial at that time. If the wedding is in the evening a light traditional lunch is served to the close relatives in their respective homes. After the wedding of course, we serve our lagan nu bhonu on banana leaves.

Recipes

Since this is a Navroz issue, I would like to give you our traditional recipes.

FALUDA

Serves: 6-8

Cornflour (2 tbsp)

Water (1 cup)

Milk (1 ltr — full cream)

Cream (¼ cup)

Condensed milk (½ cup)

Pistachio nuts (1-2 tbsp — sliced, optional)

Tukhmari seeds (3 tbsp — soaked in a little water)

Rose water (2 tbsp)

Sugar (to taste)

Salt (a pinch)

Vanilla ice cream (optional)

Cook cornflour in water till thick and transparent. Pass the mixture through a colander into a bowl of ice and water to form small, fine noodles.

Boil milk and cool. 

Combine all ingredients except ice cream and chill.

Mix well before serving.

Pour into glasses and add a dollop of ice cream (if used) into each glass.

Note: The botanical name for tukhmari seeds is Osymum pilosum and it belongs to the basil family. They are small black seeds that swell up to double their size when soaked in water.

PARSI PULAO

Serves: 12-16

Kharu gosht

Ghee or oil (4 tbsp)

Onions (4 medium — finely sliced)

Cinnamon, cloves and black cardamoms (1 tbsp — whole)

Ginger (2½” piece — crushed)

Garlic (1 whole bulb — crushed)

Turmeric powder (1 tsp)

Cumin powder (2-3 tsp)

Red chillies (4-5 — dried)

Salt (to taste)

Green chillies (4-5 — sliced)

Leg or shoulder of lamb (1 kg — cut into pieces with bone)

Potatoes (4 large — cut into halves, optional)

Pulao

Basmati rice (1 kg)

Curd (2 cups)

Onions (4 — large, sliced and fried crisp)

Salt (to taste)

Saffron (1 tsp — soaked in 2 tbsp warm milk)

Ghee (as required)

Milk (as needed)

A stiff dough of whole wheat flour and water for sealing pan

Garnish

Onions (2 — large, sliced and fried crisp and drained)

Almonds (2 tbsp — blanched, slivered, fried and drained)

Sultanas (kishmish, 2 tbsp — fried and drained)

Kharu gosht

Heat ghee or oil in a pan and fry onions with whole spices till onions are brown.

Add ½ cup water and simmer till water has evaporated.

Add remaining ingredients except meat and green chillies and sauté for 1-2 minutes. 

Add meat and continue to sauté, adding a little water occasionally to prevent burning, till meat is light brown. 

Add green chillies and 1 cup water and lower heat. Cover pan with an inverted lid into which you add some water. 

Simmer, stirring occasionally, till meat is tender and gravy is thick, adding a little water from the lid as required. 

Add potatoes (if used) when the meat is half cooked.

Pulao

Wash rice in several changes of water to remove all starch and soak in cold water for 20 minutes.

Drain and leave in a strainer for 20 minutes. Cook rice in plenty of water till three-quarters done. Drain and divide into 2 portions. Gently mix curd and fried onions into one portion, using a fork. Mix saffron into the other portion and add to pan containing meat. Mix gently till rice is well distributed and cover with curd rice. Sprinkle ghee over rice and cover with an old piece of cloth. Sprinkle milk over cloth. Cover pan with a tight-fitting lid and seal with dough. Place pan in oven preheated to 175ºC (325ºF) for 20-30 minutes. Remove pan from oven, break open seal and remove the cloth. 

Spoon pulao on to a platter. Using a flat spoon, dig right down into the pan and turn it over on the platter.

Sprinkle with garnish and serve.

Note: This pulao needs no accompaniments except a good gor amli nu kachumbar and, if you like, masala ni dar.

SOOKHA BOOMLA NI 

CHUTNEY 

I know you will not serve this dish with the pulao, but it is quite delicious with plain dhan dar or a thick rotlo.

Dried Bombay duck (25 — cleaned heads and stomach removed)

Sesame oil (3 tbsp)

Lime ( — juiced)

Grind together

Green chillies (6)

Coriander leaves (4 tbsp)

Ginger (2½” piece)

Garlic (2 — whole bulbs) 

Coconut (½ — fresh, grated)

Wash Bombay duck and dry well. Remove the backbone and discard.

Heat oil and fry Bombay duck till crisp.

Cool and grind.

Add ground spices and grind again.

Add lime juice to taste.

VENGNA NE TOORIA NO PATIO

(Aubergine and courgette patio)

A good vegetarian alternative for prawn patio.

Aubergines (baingan, 350 g — long, sliced in ½” rounds)

Courgettes (toori) (500 gms — peeled and sliced in ½” rounds)

Ghee (2 tbsp)

Onions (2 large — sliced)

Tomatoes (2 — chopped)

Tamarind (the size of a walnut infused in ½ cup hot water)

Jaggery (1 tsp)

Salt (to taste)

Grind together

Onions (2 — dry roasted till the skin is black, cooled and peeled)

Green chillies (3 — seeded)

Garlic (6-8 cloves) 

Dry red chillies (4)

Turmeric powder (1 tsp)

Cumin seeds (2 tsp — roasted)

Coriander seeds (1 tbsp — roasted)

Dhansakh masala powder (1 tbsp)

Poppy seeds (khus khus, 1 tbsp)

Cinnamon (1” stick)

Cloves (4)

Place sliced aubergines and courgettes in salt water till required.

Heat ghee in a pan and fry onions till light brown. 

Pour in ½ cup water and salt, lower heat and cook till onions are mushy and water has evaporated. 

Stir in ground spices and sauté for 2-3 minutes. 

Mix in tomatoes and simmer for 2-3 minutes until liquid from tomatoes is reduced.

Add courgettes and aubergines. Lower heat and simmer till vegetables are cooked. 

Sprinkle in strained tamarind juice and jaggery. 

Taste and adjust seasoning.

Serve with dhan dar. 

The taste of the patio should be sweet and sour.

CUSTER NA CUTLETS 

(Savory custard cutlets)

Serves: 8

This dish was an entry at a cooking competition in Bangalore, where I was one of the judges. We voted it the winner, little knowing that it was created by my friend, Parviz Dhunbura, an excellent cook.

Milk (600 ml — full cream) 

Eggs (5 + 5 — lightly beaten)

Breadcrumbs as required

Ghee or oil for deep frying

Salt (to taste)

Grind together

Green chillies (6 — seeded)

Coriander leaves (3 tbsp — with tender stems)

Ginger (1” piece)

Garlic (6 cloves)

Cumin seeds (2 tsp)

Cook milk on low heat till reduced by a quarter. Remove from heat and cool. 

Add five eggs to milk with salt and half the ground spices. 

Mix well and spoon into a well greased, square or rectangular baking dish, so that the custard comes to a height of 1”.

Steam for 15-20 minutes by putting the dish in a steamer, or place in a tray with water reaching about 2” above base of dish. Place in oven preheated to 175°C (350°F) for 20-25 minutes. 

Allow to cool completely and cut into 1½” squares. 

Carefully coat each custard square with remaining ground spices, dip in breadcrumbs and then in remaining beaten eggs. 

Deep fry in batches till pale gold. 

Drain and serve.

KORU NE MOTA MURCHA

(Yellow pumpkin with capsicum)

Serves: 8

This dish was created by Angelina, a superb cook, who worked for us in Bangalore.

Oil (3 tbsp)

Onions (3 — sliced)

Garlic (1 whole bulb — peeled)

Yellow pumpkin (kaddu, 750 g — peeled and cubed)

Capsicum (500 g — cubed, with pith and seeds removed)

Spring onions (250 g — sliced)

Tomatoes (4 ripe — chopped)

Green chillies (6 — chopped)

Turmeric powder (1 tsp)

Salt (to taste) 

Heat oil in a pan and fry onions till light brown. Add peeled garlic cloves and sauté for 2 minutes. Mix in pumpkin and cook for 3-4 minutes, stirring all the time. Add remaining ingredients and simmer for 2-3 minutes. Add ½ cup water and simmer till pumpkin is cooked.

Bon apetit

Bhicoo J. Manekshaw, a graduate of the prestigious Cordon Bleu School of Cookery, London and author of Traditional Recipes     of India, Parsi Food and Customs and Feast of Love, has been associated with many haute cuisine organizations in the country.