As I sit cross-legged straddling the seventh and eighth decades of my life (if this was test cricket I would be compared to Polly Umrigar, Rusi Surti, Nari Contractor and Farokh Engineer!) I look back at the incredible impact Dadar Parsi Colony had on my formative years.
Competitive sports was high on the list of priorities. We played cricket after school at Madon Club, badminton and table tennis at the Parsi Gymkhana on rainy days. Occasionally I would strap on my Winchester roller skates and speed down Jame Jamshed Road, elated as the wind brushed my face. If Engineer was returning home in his MG (Morris Garages) sportscar, he would stop and tow a line of us skaters through the Colony. We were all so close and intertwined in our lives.
Minoo Mansion in Dadar Parsi Colony where the Hansotias resided
Perviz Hall was adjacent and every Saturday night there was an event showcasing local talent. The Hall overflowed even on a rainy evening. Palamkote Hall, on the perimeter of Five Gardens, was where lagan and navjote ceremonies were held. My navjote was done here followed by a seven course dinner under the stars. One of my favorite memories!
My landlady’s granddaughter, Hooty, moved in with her to attend Podar College of Commerce. At the Parsi New Year’s dance I maneuvered to dance with her long enough to set up a date the next day. That was September 1966! This is 2018! That’s a long dance! Living in the diaspora (Phoenix, Arizona, USA), I am reminded of our culture, our practices, our morning prayers, sudreh-kusti, et al. But like sugar in milk we blend in, we try to excel, we adapt and dissolve as we retain our special identity.
To be a Parsi is very special. Not to be a Parsi is nothing less. I just love being a Parsi. I have also noticed, in far too many cases to be incidental, the tallest tree in the community is a Parsi. It just happens that way... We are the Parsis. We survive and thrive. We will be there in the next millennium. Don’t doubt me on this one!