OF CABBAGES AND KINGS | Why Many Parsis Celebrate Navroz, Or Their New Year, Thrice Every Year! | Farrukh Dhondy
I’ll tell you gentle reader, when I’ve recounted two memories of India’s Independence Day: It was 1962. I lived with my sister and two maiden aunts in Pune. My grandmother, my spinster aunts’ mum, had died long since, but they in their inimitable compassion had brought my grandmother’s elder sister from Bombay to pass her old age in their household
“Sitting in the yard we fantasised
About the shapes of floating clouds
Imagining they were things disguised
Or creatures covered by white shrouds
You asked me for my favourite shape
I said my favourite shape was you
It wasn’t a joke, a verbal escape
It was an honest answer -- and happened to be true!”
From Moo Barracks, by Bachchoo
On Friday the 15th of august my cup overflows -- no, gentle reader, not with generous presents of white wine, but literally scores of WhatsApp and email communications on two “scores” -- the first being the anniversary of Indian Independence and the second which coincides with it, albeit only for the next three years, the Parsi New Year.
Why just three years and not forever? I’ll tell you gentle reader, when I’ve recounted two memories of India’s Independence Day: It was 1962. I lived with my sister and two maiden aunts in Pune. My grandmother, my spinster aunts’ mum, had died long since, but they in their inimitable compassion had brought my grandmother’s elder sister from Bombay to pass her old age in their household.
This grand-aunt of mine was called Aalaan (the “n” being the Indian nasal sound and not “n” as in knot) masi (Gujerotic for “mum’s sister”). She was a troublesome old personage having lived most of her life in Parsi housing estates endowed by the rich of our community in Bombay. My aunts’ house was a divided bungalow of five rooms, which followed one another and one had to pass through successive ones to get to the next one -- so not much privacy.
The big wardrobe with the dressing mirror for a door was in my aunts’ bedroom where Aalaan masi was also accommodated. On that day, 15th August 1962, my sister Zareen stood in front of the mirror and tidied her blouse and festive sari. It was early morning. Aalaan masi was curious.
“So whose wedding is it, you’re going to this morning?” she asked in Gujarati.
“It’s not a wedding”, Zareen replied. “I have to give a speech in college for Independence Day. So have to dress up.”
“What’s Independence Day?” Aalaan masi asked.
“The anniversary of the day the British left India”, Zareen said.
“What???” Aalaan masi was astounded. “The British have gone??? Nobody told me!”
The innocence of fifteen years?
In school, whenever we sang the national anthem, which in the official version ends with Jaya jaya jaya jaya hey, there would inevitably be a few voices which would continue with the first syllable of the words with which Tagore concluded his composition, which was “Bha…!” From Bharata bhagya vidaata.
Incidentally, the orchestral conductor Malcolm Sargent once remarked that the Indian national anthem ended with the most unusual and inconclusive cadence. Perhaps including Tagore’s last phrase in the anthem would have been a more conclusive ending?
And so, to the other messages of goodwill and good wishes that arrived on 15th August wishing me happy Parsi New Year. Lots of “Navroz Mubaraks” from cousins, friends, nephews, nieces, etc on the WhatsApp group and then some.
The concurrence between this “Parsi New Year” and India’s Independence Day won’t last forever, but only till 2028, which is the next leap year. In 2029, “Navroz” will be celebrated on the 14th of August and then in 2033, it will occur on the 12th of August, and so on, receding one day relative to the Gregorian calendar every four years.
Absurd? Most definitely. But why?
The Parsi Zoroastrians in ancient Persia, apart from inventing God and trousers, celebrated New Year, very astro-logically on the day of the vernal equinox – 20th or 21st of March. The New Year was called Jamshedji Navroz.
Then in 641 AD Persia was invaded by the recently-converted-to-Islam Arabs. They defeated the Persian armies of Yezdigard III and established Islam as the state religion, imposing a tax on those Zoroastrians who refused to convert.
Perhaps a century later a whole population of resisting Zoroastrians fled Persia and sought refuge in Gujarat, India. As aliens in Hindu India, it must have been natural for the priesthood of this community, now collectively called “Parsis” as they originated in “Pars” -- Persia -- to assume its leadership in religious, ceremonial and communal matters.
Then around the year 1254 AD, some leader of this priesthood neglected to add the extra day in the leap year. The celebration of the New Year amongst the whole community shifted to the 19th of March, and in the next four years to the 18th, and so on.
By my calculation around 1574 AD, this celebration of New Year coincided with January 1st, but only for four years. It then moved on to December 31st. In my boyhood I remember it was moving through the middle of September. To coincide again with Jamshedji Navroz, the moveable New Year will have to traverse 148 days. Multiply that by four to get 148 leap years and Parsi New Year will be restored to the vernal equinox in the year 2617 AD.
A sect of the Parsis known as the “Faslis”, recognising the absurdity of the miscalculation, abandoned the itinerant New Year and restored the celebration to the vernal equinox.
My cousin’s Parsi family are, very sensibly, of this persuasion. My parents’ families were not. But what the hell -- three New Years each year means three bouts of celebration? Cheers!
