In "Wholesome, peaceful and pure,” (Parsiana, October 7, 2016) Berjis Desai’s recollections of Parsi life in Navsari are accurate. I would like to add some of my own.
At twilight, the lady of the house, wearing a white mathabanoo (head scarf), would light a small afarganyu with two or three small pieces of burning charcoal ignited red over a kerosene stove, add some shavings of sandalwood called ver and then pray a little before sprinkling some loban (frankincense) on the fire to create thick smoke. The afarganyu would then be carried from room to room with more loban added as required if the smoke died down. This constituted the evening prayers in a Parsi home, but the smoke had a more important task — to drive away flying insects from the house, particularly mosquitoes.
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In Kanga vad mohalla (area) of Navsari, where my ancestral home was located, there were plenty of stray dogs (pictured) who would start barking for no reason at all at dead of night. As the lanes of the mohalla were narrow, the sound of barking was amplified. I do not remember whether pebbles were thrown at them, but I do remember that the dogs produced several litters a year. The ladies of the mohalla would feed them. The puppies were often run over by trucks plying in our lane which was so narrow that there were barely inches to spare on either side. When such a thing happened the Parsi ladies would come out and abuse the truck driver: "Marayré mua, dékhatu nathi ké? Bicharu nallu kutru né akhoo katchree kariyu! (Can’t you see? You have crushed the poor little pup).” The trucks never stopped as the drivers did not want to face the wrath of the Parsi ladies!
Also, around Navratri time (in October), there were troupes of Gheriya dancers. Dressed in colorful clothes and with peacock feathers in their turbans, the dancers would roam over all the mohallas. The main dancer, who was the conductor, held a bundle of many peacock feathers in his hand. Some would commission the Gheriyas to dance in front of their houses. Each dancer had a pair of dandiyas (bamboo sticks), one of them would have cymbals, and another a dhol (drum) which they all synchronized into a beat that could be heard over a long distance so we knew they were coming. My aunt, Dhunmai, would always ask them to dance when I was visiting Navsari during the Diwali holidays. One of them would chant something laudatory along with the drum beat and dancing, and then the rest of them would shout in confirmation "Ha-re-ha-bhai (we all agree).” At the end of their dance routine, they would take their dandiyas and strike them at the entrance repeatedly chanting: "Ardeshir seth ghoray chariya, Ardeshir seth ghoray chariya (Ardeshir seth has mounted a horse),” my name having been given to them beforehand by Dhunmai! My aunt would tip them generously and they would disperse to go to the next house, probably the Kolahs, of achaar (pickle) fame. I loved the Gheriyas, their very catchy drum beat (one long, one short), and was thrilled whenever they came.
Although most houses had chiming clocks, there was the town crier who knew the name of the head of every Parsi family. He would come each night and walk very fast through the streets every hour after 11 p.m. and speak softly near one’s window, for example, "Behramji seth, baar vagya ché (Behramji seth, it is 12 o’clock),” and so on every hour until dawn. One only heard him if one was awake! He was a mystery, for one never saw him, but he invariably turned up some time during the week at day time for a generous bakshish (tip) from my father.
Yes, every Parsi that ever lived had some connection or the other with Navsari!