Photography or videography of religious ceremonies in fire temples is a sensitive proposition. Some permit shooting, others restrict it, while a few totally bar recordings. Even if the priest/s present permit photography, some devotee may object. When the Navsari Atash Behram celebrated its 250th anniversary in October 2015, Parsiana recorded the jashan performed in the main hall where, aside from the mobeds and laity, four high priests were also present. A brief excerpt was uploaded on our social media sites.
In the Iranshah Atash Behram in Udvada, however, no photography or videography is permitted. If a family opts to have a navjote ceremony performed there (weddings are not permitted), they will have to do so without any visual keepsake of the event.
At a time when owning and operating cameras was the privilege of a few, the ban was not viewed as much of an imposition. But today when anybody with a mobile phone can record any event, anywhere, at any time and share the images with whosoever they please regardless of physical borders and distances, many may consider the restriction archaic.
Aside from serving as personal keepsakes, recording religious ceremonies serves the critical purpose of archiving our customs, rituals, settings, interiors… This is all the more pertinent at ceremonies where lay people are barred entry. When consecrated fires (within the fire temple complex) are shifted due to the exigencies of repairs or renovations to the structure, only priests are permitted in the temporary and permanent sanctum sanctorums where the fire is enthroned.
The question arises: are the rituals observed uniformly in all fire temples everywhere? Are identical prayers recited, similar ceremonies observed, uniform religious implements (alat) employed? Allowing for the divergent views that dasturs, panthakies and mobeds adopt on each and every issue, how can one be certain there is uniformity? Does the methodology vary from city to city, state to state? Would the fire in Karachi or Iran be shifted in similar fashion to say, a fire in Surat? Very unlikely. Even if the priests intended the ceremonies to be identical, how could they ensure this without some visual and verbal record serving as a standard? No priests in India have congregated to set standards. A council of high priests formed over a decade ago was disbanded because of disagreements or disinterest among them. And now the very number of high priests has dwindled. Some of their offspring do not opt for the gaadi (seat).
At a conclave comprising priests and concerned persons held on October 8, 2023 (see "Let us start,” pg 26) one mobed noted that all the boiwallas in the atash behrams were over 45 years of age. The number of priests who can perform the higher liturgical ceremonies is only 18. "In 15 years the performance of the pav mahal ceremonies will collapse,” he predicted, unless steps are taken now. Such a grim scenario underlines the necessity to record all the ceremonies so future generations may know how to perform the rituals, and if so inclined, revive them.
In this issue we carry a column by noted writer and one-time community activist Ervad Berjis Desai on a nirangdin ceremony he was present for and observed (see "The ultimate ritual,” pg 18). How could we illustrate the piece, we wondered? Photographing or taking a video of the ceremony is barred. There was, therefore, no visual record available. In our August 1991 issue we faced a similar problem when writing on the afringan ritual (see "An exchange of flowers”). By keeping the community in the dark, the clergy is not only widening the gap between itself and the laity but also doing itself a great disservice.
When the Zoroastrians first came to India they were uncertain as to the manner in which customs and ceremonies were to be performed. After residing in India for several centuries they turned to their fellow clergymen in Iran for guidance. The questions and answers exchanged between priests in the two countries from the 15th to 18th centuries comprise the Rivayats. The Indian Zoroastrian immigrants were fortunate that there were still knowledgeable clergymen in Iran to instruct and guide them; the Iranian clergy even suggested that some priests from India visit Iran for training. As the customs and ceremonies faded in Iran either due to migration, lack of finance, disinterest or the clergy turning to other professions, India became the leading light for observance of Zoroastrian religious customs and practices.
When some Parsis from India migrated to greener pastures elsewhere in the 20th century, they too turned to India for guidance. But as much of the Indian system is heavily influenced by the predominant caste system that permits/restricts entry based on the twin pillars of race and gender, such criteria did not find much favor in the West. Even if Zoroastrians overseas wanted to observe these biases, they would be in violation of the local laws, especially in North America. Hence much of the advice proffered from India had to be mercifully disregarded. By shunning racial and gender discrimination, the North American Zoroastrians evolved into a vibrant and engaged community, pulling much beyond their small and geographically diverse numbers.
When the Zoroastrian migrants landed in India over 1,300 years ago, they too had modified their ceremonies and customs to suit the environment. The legendary Qissa-i Sanjan text lists some of the customs the new migrants reportedly had to adopt in India. With each wave of migration adaptations were made. But if no visual or audio recordings exist of the customs how can one differentiate between what is authentic and/or modified? What guidance and instructions can one transmit to future generations of priests and the laity? The legacy has to continue, from Iran to India to the West and elsewhere. Each country and each Zoroastrian community has to offer continuity. The tradition should not be broken or forgotten.