| Avesta -- Zoroastrian Archives | Contents | Prev | saga3 | Next | Glossary |
This electronic edition copyright 2003 by Soli Dastur.
Used with permission.
Gujarati has been our language ever since we landed in India more than twelve hundred years ago. Yet Persian continued to be used in Iran and as it was the state language of the kings of Delhi and of their governors at Surat and at other places, many learned men of our community wrote articles in Persian also.
Azerkaivan and his intimate disciples who believed in the Muslim faith, philosophy and practices, and who had left Iran in the seventeenth century and settled in the Punjab, had compiled many books on religion and philosophy in Persian. They tried to explain the Zoroastrian religion in the light of Sufism and other alien philosophies. About a hundred years ago we find Gujarati translations of books by Kheshtab, Jeradest, Afsar, Zuideh Rooh, Makashefateh Kaivani, Jaanee Kaikhushru and others. In 1875 we get an idea of this philosophy in Bag-e-Parsa or the Garden of Purity by Dastur Jamshedji Kamdin of Broach.
Our priests excelled in ceremonial worship. With the march of time they had not moved onwards to the pathway of intellectual religion through knowledge. From amongst the approximately eight hundred Athornans there could be found hardly twenty-five who were capable of guiding the community by their written or spoken word.
In 1875 enthusiastic Zoroastrian theosophists came into prominence. In quest of knowledge these noble men conducted daily classes in their own organization, studied books and, through their own scholarship, were sincerely keen to enlighten the community. They led a simple and honest life. [254] Self-sacrifice was their watch-word. Some chose Brahmacharya, others Hattayoga. I held them in high esteem. Yet, at the same time, I was in honest opposition to their methods of transmitting their knowledge.
Theosophy means the study of religion. Who can be opposed to such divine knowledge? All the religions of the world teach spiritual enlightenment but their founders have differed in their search for its knowledge according to the country, conditions and times in which they have lived. The Theosophical Society founded by Madame Blavatsky and Colonel Olcott to spread spiritual knowledge was in essence purely Hindu and Buddhistic. If our theosophists would look at it in its true perspective, appreciate it or even have complete faith in it and reveal it in its true aspect, I would have no objection. But these good people believed and tried to make others believe that theosophy alone was right and that alone was the truth and without it all else was incomplete and indefinite. They even tried to explain Zoroastrianism in that light. This attitude I could not conform to. I would not accept their assertion of possessing the sole miraculous master-key that could unlock and unravel the secret doctrines of all religions. From about the middle of the last century there was a controversy raging between the conservative section of the community and those who were known as reformists. Members of the former group whose staunch supporter was 'Mansukh', time and again accused the reformists of being bent upon suppressing ceremonials and of changing the Zoroastrian religion to a 'religion of convenience', and under the influence of Christianity, trying to convert it into a 'protestant faith'. Dadabhoy Naoroji, Khurshedji Cama and other learned reformists were labelled as Parsi Protestants. Parsi theosophists, supporting the conservatives, claimed that they had saved the community in the nick of time from being ruined by [255] Parsi reformists who, in the mode of Christianity, were trying to introduce reforms such as praying in a language that could be understood and the like. Before going to America to study, my protest was that, suppose for the sake of argument, the reformists were attracting the Zoroastrian religion towards a Christian-Zoroastrian faith,. Parsi theosophists were drawing it towards a Hindu-Zoroastrian or Buddhist-Zoroastrian religion.
Prior to my departure they had published many large and small booklets like the one entitled 'Zoroastrianism in the Light of Theosophy'. Later, another book, 'Zoroastrianism in the Light of Vishnuism' was published by Swami Govindachariya of Mysore.
Recently a Hindu professor of the Punjab has written 'The Vedic Origin of Zoroastrianism'. In this book its author states that Avesta, known as the sacred language of the Parsis, is a dialect of Sanskrit or of one of its offshoots. The suffix 'Ved' meaning 'to know' is used in its various forms in the Gathas. Arising out of this the learned writer states: 'Zarathushtra prays to Ahura Mazda and asks: "When will get the knowledge of the Vedic religion ?" On the basis of similar ridiculous explanations the author informs us that the Zoroastrian religion of the Parsees is an offspring of the Rig Veda!
All I had to say to my theosophist co-religionists was that just as we did not want a Christian-Zoroastrian religion we did not want either a Hindu-Zoroastrian or a Buddhist-Zoroastrian religion. We needed a pure Zoroastrian religion, a Mazda-Zoroastrian faith. These earlier thoughts of mine were strengthened by my contact with Professor Jackson and other scholars and through my four years' study of languages and of [256] the different philosophies of the West at Columbia University.
One of the lectures I had delivered at Bombay was on a comparative study of the Zoroastrian and Hindu philosophies. In that I had mentioned that the religion that is found in the books after the Gathas is mainly the ancient Indo-Iranian religion prior to Zarathushtra. There is a striking similarity between that and the old Vedic religion. But the advanced philosophy of the later religions born of the Upanishads, the Brahmas etc., and the Zoroastrian philosophy are poles apart. Avesta, Pahlavi and Pazend literature recognize a Personal God. Parsi theosophists, finding such a form of God incomplete, have attributed to the term 'Zarvaneh Akerneh' — 'Limitless time' — the meaning of 'Impersonal God', placing Him above Ahura Mazda. This concept was Hindu in essence.
The philosophy of reincarnation and other principles are the heritage of later Hindu religions and it is absolutely fruitless to attempt to search for their parallels in Zoroastrianism. I declared that the far-fetched endeavours of Parsi theosophists to attribute those teachings to the Zoroastrian religion are false and do not reflect sound scholarship.
Later, when I delivered this lecture in Karachi, I explained at length how the ideals of the Hindu and Iranian elders of the Indo-Iranian era were identical but in later years when they were separated and settled in India and Iran their way of living differed in every detail.
In Iran a married life was deemed equally sacred for laymen and for priests. The man who took upon himself the responsibility of a married life was dearer to Ahura Mazda than he who remained single. Celibacy in priesthood never found a place in the four thousand year old history [257] of Zoroastrianism. The life of renunciation and freedom from worldly cares, prevalent in the third and fourth of the four Ashrams of the Hindus, never found a foothold in Iran. It has never been an Iranian belief that this world of desire is a complete illusion. To renounce the world in an endeavour to be free of its ties and temptations has never been extolled in Iran. With many such examples, as an unbiased student, I depicted the advance of Hindu religion and philosophy towards renunciation of worldly life and that of Iran as a step towards social progress.
Dependent upon the Hindu philosophy of the Avatars of gods and goddesses, Parsi theosophists declared that Zarathushtra was no ordinary human being but an Avatar of the Ameshaspenta. I announced that this teaching was completely unfounded and alien and that Prophet Zarathushtra was a man of practical common sense. From this arose a controversy that I had insulted our Prophet by calling him a common man. After some time, during the Zoroastrian Conference, when the orthodox Parsi papers of Bombay waged war against me, many misrepresentations were propagated on the basis of the above. As a result, for a number of years, I had to print and distribute amongst the entire community of the subcontinent three small booklets explaining my statements. Some important passages from one of those booklets are quoted below in order to throw light on the diversities in the Zoroastrian and Hindu philosophies.
"Whereas the Zoroastrian religion lays emphasis on man's achievements in conquering the apparent evils that exist in the world, the philosophy of the Upanishads and the Vedas, on the whole, gives utmost importance to gaining freedom from the fetters of the cycles of birth and death by breaking through the darkness of ignorance and [258] attaining the bliss of Nirvana through knowledge of God — "Brahmagnan"
At the conclusion of the lecture the members of the audience were invited to express their opinions if they wished to. A learned Hindu gentleman thanked the speaker and said: 'I differ from the views of the lecturer on one point. The speaker has stated that the Hindu philosophy lays greater emphasis on knowledge than on action. I feel that no work can be done without knowledge. The scholarly talk that we have heard today IS the outcome of his laborious study. The invaluable Bhagvad Gita of the Hindus preaches the pathway of action together with other pathways.'
In reply I stated: 'Our learned friend has very rightly pointed out that knowledge must precede action. Besides, every student also knows that the Bhagvad Gita holds in high esteem the value of action. What must be remembered is that when the Hindu religion is referred to in general, the philosophy contained in the Bhagvad Gita alone or in any single book is not considered individually but it is known by the main ideals embodied in all. It is for this reason that we hear learned men say time and again that the religion of Iran preaches optimism while that of Hinduism and Buddhism is pessimistic. It paints a sad, despairing picture of life. We know that this is true regarding the philosophy of the Vedantas, Upanishads and the Buddhist religion, but not of the ancient Vedic religion. When the forefathers of the Parsis and the Hindus lived together, many of their ideas about life were similar. As scholars rightly reveal, the Hindus of the Vedic period were as optimistic as their Iranian brothers. They were lovers of life and workers in this world of joy and sorrow. Times have changed since then. When two brothers who have grown up together having common ideals part and do not continue contact with each other, each goes his [259] own way, imbibing the customs and cultures of the lands he adopts. Thus these two sister communities who at one time had a common philosophy, living in different countries amidst different environments, began to cultivate completely contrasting ideologies. On the whole, Hindus started shedding the older values, began to meditate more than to act and, instead of living in the world and fighting evil forces and cultivating nobler qualities, preferred to renounce the world and to seek refuge in retirement. The Hindu was athirst for the knowledge that could win for him the salvation of his own soul rather than work for the uplift of mankind. He became pessimistic, believing in a philosophy of despair whose final reflection can be seen in the great Buddha who preached that life was a curse, existence was evil and happiness can only be found in relinquishing worldly ties. To quote Professor Olden berg, 'The one-time perfectly practical Vedic religion turned into a philosophy of despair and hopelessness'.
"A Zarthosti did not go into seclusion in search of salvation. To subdue his senses and his emotions he did not relinquish life and become a yogi. He did not withdraw into isolation contemplating or meditating upon the knowledge that could gain freedom for his soul. He did not fast or perform penance or torture his body in order to conquer illusion and ignorance. On the contrary, he tried to put into practice the philosophy of life that his beloved Prophet Zarathushtra had taught. To fight against evil, to do deeds, to fashion his character midst the every-day experiences of joy and sorrow, goodness and evil, to perform such actions that could lighten man's burden in this world ere he thought of the next, to destroy Satan’s sway and to establish Ahura Mazda's kingdom on earth, was his mission in life. His age-old philosophy of life did not alter as did that of his [260] Hindu Aryan brother. On the contrary it strengthened through the grandeur of the teachings of the religion of Zarathushtra. This teaching did not underestimate the importance of this world. It did not concentrate merely on the life to be at the sacrifice of the necessary comforts and pleasures of this life. It did not preach the philosophy of pessimism, nor did it aim at enlightening a handful of Mahatmas or philosophers only. The aim of the Zoroastrian teaching was to help the entire family of man to enjoy the benefits of a good life and to exert its influence on the day to day practical life of men. Asho Zarathushtra revealed in himself the finest qualities of practical, common sense, emanating from his own sublime religion.
"Let us examine the above questions and answers in the light of the opinions of some of our well-known scholars. Professor Max Muller was a devotee of Hindu literature from the time he translated the Upanishads three decades ago right up to the end of his life. Devout Hindus knew him as 'Max Muller Bhat' which was to assign to him the sacred appellation of 'The Enlightened Muller'. Hindu pundits and scholars said that apart from a literary translation he was able to cull the essence latent in its philosophy and enter into the true spirit of the Hindu religion. Comparing the ideology of work in the Zoroastrian religion and in the philosophy of the Upanishads he writes on page 190 of his book entitled 'Theosophy or Psychological Religion': "The opinion cherished by the writers of the Upanishads that knowledge and faith are superior to good deeds and that the man who meditates attains a higher level of immortality than the man of action, is contrary to the Avesta". After explaining at length under what circumstances Zoroastrian and Hindu ancestors began to differ about the philosophies of life and religion after their separation, Reverend Fugel, whose writings Herbert Spencer, Gladstone, Professor Max Muller [261] and others hold in high esteem, states on pages 89-91 of his book, 'Zend Avesta and Ancient Religions, that India put a high premium on the pessimistic and secluded life of the sanyasin. Iran manifested effort and perseverance. Thus in India the meaning of virtue and religion became synonymous with relinquishing life, enduring physical torture, seeking for serenity, surrendering life and its joys and desiring naught save Nirvana or Oneness with God. Therefore Hindu philosophy expounded that this world was an illusion, life and existence were a curse, the body and nature were sinful and impure, that nothing but Brahma existed. In Iran man's source of sustenance springs from his desire to work and endeavour. Hence its religion is not the relinquishing of life, of meditation, of fostering seclusion and becoming a sadhu and enduring fasting and sacrifice. Zarathushtra has laid great emphasis on action and daily continuous effort and has declared that these qualities were most appreciated and effective in the eyes of Ahura Mazda. Personal and political reasons gave birth to the renouncing of life, and becoming a sadhu or a sanyasin, meditating and looking at life from a pessimistic angle in India. In Iran, together with the belief in one God, the existence of the dual forces of good and evil were taught. To accept the existence of evil in this world and to wage war against it was man's bounden duty. There, religion and virtue meant: 'Help thyself; work for the good of mankind; be industrious and fight courageously against physical, mental, social and spiritual evils.' Thus, the philosophical religion of the worshipper of Brahma believing in one God is such that it upholds one principle only, preaches the existence of a single ideal in the world and considers a rife of seclusion as the quintessence of virtue. The Zoroastrian religion, believing in one God, is a practical religion. It is founded on the principle of the co-existence of two forces in the universe, and its [262] essence is practical morality and industrious alertness. The Hindus became desperate in the face of physical and social difficulties; they lost courage; they gave up the struggle against evil and took refuge in renunciation and Nirvana. They declared life to be a curse and creation a wretched dream. The teaching of hopelessness in India turned into a philosophy of fighting evil and conquering it, in Iran. The Hindu philosophy ends in Nirvana; the Parsi believes in the final victory of Soshyosh (Resurrection) and the defeat of all evil".
Another great philosophic religion founded in India is known as the Buddhist religion. Its teachings also are completely contradictory to those of the Zoroastrian, Christian, Jewish and Islamic faiths. A single sentence comparing it to the Zoroastrian religion is quoted below:
Professor Jackson, on page 2 of his book, Zoroaster, the Prophet of Ancient Iran (1901) writes: 'The ideal of the Buddhist religion is to relinquish life, to teach serenity and seclusion, while the teaching of Zarathushtra is a life-long struggle, the manifestation of activity and reform'.
Dr. Martin, in explaining why work is given the greatest significance in Zoroastrian religion states on page 72 of the 5th number of the 14th Volume of 'The Gospel of Zoroastrianism is Universal Religion': "What a vast difference there is between the teaching of the Brahma religion of those times, of concentration, meditation and fasting and of this teaching of 'Arise and work'. Also the optimistic philosophy of conquering evil taught by Zarathushtra and the pessimistic philosophy of Buddha to be free of the ties of existence !"
[263] We have seen how, the erstwhile sister nations whose aspirations, philosophies and religious beliefs were similar, changed in their mode of thinking after they had drifted apart, and how much in opposition grew their philosophy of life. On the whole a Hindu seeks the knowledge that can free him from the world of desire and illusion. Lack of knowledge and ignorance lead him to believe that he is a being apart from Brahma. What appears to him as separate entities is due to the veil of ignorance that divides him from God. He believes that Divine Wisdom will unveil this curtain and he will realise that this world is an illusion. God alone exists. To achieve this knowledge is his greatest ambition.
"A Zoroastrian does not consider this life as maya or an illusion. If he considers himself apart from Ahura Mazda, he does not believe this is due to his ignorance. The link that binds him to Ahura Mazda is similar to that which binds a father to his son. The son enjoys the same independent existence that the father enjoys. The Zoroastrian faith gives the self or the ego the greatest importance. In this temporal world a good Zoroastrian lives an independent, individual existence. Even so, in the other world, his individuality will not be merged like a spark in the radiance or effulgence of Ahura Mazda. It will not lose its identity, but in the heavenly abode of his spiritual Father he will continue to serve in the spiritual world. The final word of the Zoroastrian faith is not knowledge but action. Asho Zarathushtra teaches him that thought is great but action is greater. The ultimate aim of the Zoroastrian is not only to seek the salvation of his own soul through knowledge, but through the spiritual knowledge, bequeathed by his great prophet, he has to strengthen himself for the victory of the spirit and the conquest over evil. He has to live in the world and work for the welfare of humanity. If [264] he were to meditate with folded arms and attain the highest spiritual enlightenment but fail to cultivate the quality of diligence and work hard for the welfare of this temporal world, he is not the beloved of Ahura Mazda.
"The Zoroastrian religion and after it Judaism, Christianity and Islam teach about a Personal God. They inform us that existence is created from non-existence and that man is born but once into this world. They teach that the final end is the Resurrection when the world will be perfected. These four great religions of the world expound the above-mentioned precepts. Later, a completely different concept of religion is born in India. It places an imaginary Impersonal Energy over the Personal God conceived by those four religions. In place of the teaching that the universe has been created by an Omnipotent Being as a separate entity apart from the Almighty, it preaches that as sparks fly out of a fire, the universes have emanated as parts or divisions of God Himself.
"Thus are they divided into opposing camps of thought regarding the philosophy of life hereafter. Since the time of Pythagoras, the Indian philosophy of reincarnation has reached the West where it has spread in some circles to a larger or lesser extent, and the mystics and sufis — the esoteric seekers — propagated the theory in the East. At present our Parsi theosophists are enamoured of it and try to explain our religion in the light of reincarnation.
"Reincarnation and other allied opinions are quite contrary to Zoroastrianism and there is not to be found the slightest direct or indirect suggestion of it in the existing literature nor is there the least mention of it in any of the indices of the Denkard, Vijikard-e-dini and the Persian Rivayats which give the contents of the destroyed Nashks. These gentlemen affirm as incomplete the existing [265] Zoroastrian religion which contains no reference to reincarnation. Therefore, lured by the teachings of alien religions they proclaim such doctrines as emanating from Zarathushtra. They believe that such teachings are flawless and declare that as time passes the West will accept these ideas and at that time we shall have to lower our heads in shame in acknowledging that such teachings are not found in our religion. Hence these people with foresight and forethought, apply the principles of the Vedantic and Buddhist religions and try to lend support to our religion. The fact is that the masses are not aware of the original philosophies and main principles which distinguish one religion from another and therefore no voice is raised against the deeds of these gentlemen. Those who are in opposition to them are branded as trying to do away with ceremonies. to disrupt ancient beliefs and customs etc. and thus the common people are easily led astray.
"It is improper to deem the Zoroastrian religion incomplete and in the attempt to turn it into a philosophic faith, to attach a layer of borrowed philosophy to its pure precepts. With the purpose of giving such a direction I used the words quoted in the beginning. The learned Samuel Lang refers to the beauty of the practical facets of Zoroastrianism in his book, A Modern Zoroastrian on pages 207, 213, 214, in these words: 'This balanced, practical knowledge or, as Mathew Arnold terms it, 'The quality of scientific intelligence', is the hallmark of the Zoroastrian religion. For, in the final analysis, the practical side of a religion is more important than philosophical ideologies. Examining it from that standpoint the Zoroastrian religion qualifies as being the finest of all religions." "In the Avestan proclamation of faith a devout Zarthosti claims his religion as 'Majistecha, Vahistecha, [266] Shreshtecha' — 'the grandest the best and the highest of all religions." In justification of this and also to show how wrong it was for certain people to try to initiate the philosophies of alien faiths into the unadulterated teachings of the Zoroastrian faith, I used the above-quoted words. While speaking about the philosophy of Plato and Aristotle, learned men affirm that Aristotle's philosophy is more practical than that of Plato. Similarly I gave my opinion that eminent Ulemas have supported the statements quoted above regarding Asho Zarathushtra's great religion. Just as the genius Aristotle is naturally often termed commonplace because of his practical philosophy, I had justly applied the same epithet to our revered prophet due to this kind of quality prevalent in his enlightened religion. In doing so I had also applied the word 'common sense' in relationship to this quality of practicality.
"Each man loves his own religion; yet all must revere the religion of others. But that reverence should not turn into a desire to introduce the ideals of those faiths into our own faith. I have thought it necessary to quote at length the opinions of the above scholars merely to show this and to explain how exalted is the Zoroastrian religion without the borrowed philosophies of other religions. As far as it is only a question of ethics and honest living, the people of all religions are united and can work hand in hand on a common platform. But when the question arises of differentiating the religions, of recognizing their distinctive philosophies, then we can justly differ from each other. Similarly, so long as our Parsi theosophists work to radiate the light of virtue and goodness, we can work side by side with them. Even if they would themselves believe in some philosophy particularly dear to them and stop at that, we could be tolerant and let them carryon. But when they go further and strive at any cost to [267] admit those philosophies into our faith and declare that those are the teachings of Zarathushtra, we cannot but differ from them. Each man chooses his own philosophy according to his own mental make-up and temperament. Sacred, ancient literature is to be studied with the understanding that they are historical documents and we have no right to add to it any opinion or philosophy of our own choice and to present them as original teachings. That is not true scholarship. The controversies regarding questions of religion have begun from the time of Gayomard and will continue till the coming of Sosyosh. Yet it is necessary to avoid embittering those controversies and exciting people to fanaticism."
We shall end this chapter by quoting the late poet Narmadashanker regarding the opposing ideals of 'a passionate zeal for life or strenuous activity' and a longing for the passive life of renunciation.
"Hindu society has been established since very ancient times. Although there have been many changes in religious and practical thinking within the three great eras beginning from Manu and coming up to Yuddhishter, yet between renunciation of the world and living in harmony with it, the nation has given prime importance to renunciation — has believed in it and has cultivated it. It remained thus for a long time. After this, came the period of the active Buddhists and the passive Brahmans. Both sects believed implicitly in renunciation. From the commencement of the Vikram Savant era to the twentieth century, Shanker, Vaishnav and Jain religions, with all their followers and Kabir, Nanak, sadhus and sanyansis, and yogis together with all their various sects, have given to renunciation a place of prime importance. The Hindus have believed through the ages in the philosophy of renouncing the world rather than in a life of active service." (Vishvanath M. Bhat. Narmad
Mandvi — page 508).
[268]
Khurshedji Cama had the good fortune to know that his desire to establish a seat for a Dastur (High Priest) for the Zoroastrians of north-west India had been fulfilled, but he did not live to witness the final nomination of its first Dastur. He died just a month before that auspicious occasion.
If the portals of priesthood had been open to laymen, then Darmesteter's 'Parsi Lay Dastur' would have entwined the threads of his destiny with this pious calling through his own choice. If that had come to pass, the Athornan fold would have certainly gained a resplendent reputation. But just as Jabooli Jal was not destined to be the Shah of Iran yet he did become a king-maker, Camaji did not become an Ervad or a Dastur himself, but he certainly was the maker of ervads and dasturs. In the sixties of the last century, from a class of mobeds that had been neglected and taunted as 'Andhiarus, was born a new class of learned mobeds who for the first time in India, taught laymen to respect the religious leader and to regard him in a new light. It goes to Camaji's credit for creating this priestly class which though lacking in material wealth was rich in learning and of sterling qualities. He had endowed them with gifts of money too, but he had bestowed on them the even more precious gift of education. Educating them on philological lines he had sent forth into the world many a bright, young mobed, well-versed in Avesta, Pahlavi, Pazand and Cuneiform. Thus, to the last days of his life, through monetary assistance, through his own innate wisdom and his personal upright character, he had succeeded in persuading them to be staunch upholders of the faith. My link with him was forged at the ebb of his life. During my period of study at the Madressah [269] when I lived at Bombay, I had the opportunity of meeting him many an evening. Wherever there were lectures or sermons or gatherings of savants he would be present and I would also be there. Returning together from the weekly meetings of the Gatha Society or from the Society for Conducting Research into the Zoroastrian Faith I would secure for him a seat in a tram car for Mazagaon and would take leave of him. On many such occasions I had the opportunity of associating with him.
Camaji was a reservoir of tolerance. He viewed all religions and creeds with respect and he was always keen to glean whatever information or knowledge they had to offer. Thus, although his views were not in consonance with the teachings of the Theosophical Society. he would attend lectures or study classes organised under their auspices. His learned disciples like Ervad Sheryarji, Ervad Tehmurasp and others did not approve of this. They argued that a strong-minded scholar like Camaji would be in a position to listen to all and weigh its worth and accept only what was of value, recognizing the real source of things. But those incapable of forming individual opinions on matters of religion or philosophy would be wrongly Influenced by Camaji's presence at such meetings. It was possible that under the mistaken impression that Camaji adhered to the teachings of the societies he frequented, they too would be led to follow in his footsteps and accept their doctrines. Their fear was not entirely unfounded. It has been a long-standing practice to associate the names of famous people with some sect or society and to attempt to give an impression that they are in sympathy with their teachings and thus raise the status of that society. In the history of religion it has often happened that some great scholar or scientist has been an atheist all his life, yet taking undue advantage of the weakened condition of [270] his mind when he is old and feeble, some Christian priests have widely publicised that on his death-bed the deceased had realised the mistake of his life, had repented and with his dying breath had expressed his belief in the existence of God.
By doing so there is immense satisfaction that those of faltering faith would in good time beware of irreligiousness and abstain from it, seeing that such good and wise men who had gone through life disbelieving in God had at long last recognised their error and had repented and ultimately had died with God's name on their lips. All this has been done with pious intentions and with noble ideals, but it is divorced from truth. Camaji attended all religious meetings, respected all their founders, listened to all, but to the end of his life he believed only in the Zoroastrian philosophy regarding material and spiritual life about which he had written and spoken in public.
Khurshedji Cama's life was simple, pure and austere and he had high ideals. All seasons to him were alike. Summer did not drive him away to some sea-side resort or to a hill-station. Work, industry, service — these were his sole physical and mental recreation and relaxation. In thought, word and deed he led an honest life and thus put into practice the precepts of the religion. Yet to the orthodox he was not included within the ranks of the pious. The majority of men evaluate a person's piety not by the uprightness of his thoughts or the purity of his heart, but by the empty outward semblance of his religious practices. But Ahura Mazda's evaluation is based upon a man's innermost thoughts and ideals and upon the purity of his feelings. And from that standpoint Camaji was an ideal 'Nar Asho' — the most righteous man.
[271]
The culmination of the move to appoint me as a Dastur took a whole year. During that period I had given serious thought to the risks and responsibilities involved in a dasturship. Every evening my wife and I enjoyed the exercise of a three-mile walk. Usually we rested in a secluded nook behind the hillock at Bath Island. While we walked or relaxed we talked about my appointment as a dastur which was under consideration. I was to be a dastur and she would become a dastur's wife. So we would make various plans, build up various hopes and formulate various ideals.
'Mobed' is a word of deep significance but it does not command the same respect as the term 'Ervad' by which the first batch of Camaji's educated priests were known. To a certain extent I had already attained some publicity as an ervad. Now I was to become a dastur. Dastur is an elevated position. But the word 'dastur' had become cheap and commercialized in the community. It was an appellation given to white-turbaned men and was freely ridiculed. Should any mobed pass by, laymen joked about him as a jokta, badsha or dastur. He who distributed invitations for a wedding or a navjote was a dastur; he who prepared food for ceremonials was also a dastur; the supervisor of some inn in a small village of twelve or fifteen Zoroastrians was also a dastur; he also taught little children the alphabet and he was of service to laymen in many small ways. The illiterate and the educated alike used the word 'dastur' flippantly and the Parsi press also most unconcernedly carried on this confusion of terminology. If I could raise the status of my priestly class by accepting the dasturship, then I was eager to do so. I was confident that I would be able to do so by [272] my humble services, hence I had accepted the offer. Another reason why I wished to become a Dastur was that a life of study was very dear to me. Our sacred literature has suffered many set-backs due to the scourge of time. There is a great dearth of good literature amongst us — we are completely starved of it. By lectures and by sermons I was eager to render verbal service to my religion, and it was my ardent hope to contribute as much as I could towards the enhancement of Zoroastrian literature. By accepting the dasturship my mind, heart and my whole being longed to offer them~ selves to the service of my priestly class, to its literature and to my community at large. That was the aim of my life, my ideal and my religion.
This was not the first attempt at establishing a dasturship at Karachi. Karachi under British sovereignty is a hundred and twenty-five years old, and since we had obtained a footing here from its very inception, a century and a quarter of Parsi settlement has also been completed. During this period the community had twice nominated its dasturs but they had not lasted. In 1848 the community had elected as its high-priest Ervad Fardoonji Behramji Jamaspashana, who had translated into Gujarati the Persian 'Farajyat Nama' written by the well-known Dastur Darab Pahalan. His dasturship ended within a year. Again in 1871 the Zoroastrians of Karachi had appointed Ervad Kawasji Jamshedji as their dastur. He belonged to the dastur family of the Shahanshai Atashbehram at Surat. This second attempt of the Parsis of Karachi to avail of a dastur failed within four years. Thirty-five years later, I was the third probationary candidate.
The community has made no arrangement for the maintenance of our dasturs of — the subcontinent. Some dasturs have their own clientele in larger or lesser numbers. Such punthakies [273] are able to earn a good income from the prayers and ceremonials performed for the laity who come within their jurisdiction. Those who are not punthakies themselves perform marriage ceremonies, navjotes, fareshtas, jashans, afrinagans, and uthamnas and earn a smaller income than the dasturs of the first category. I was neither a punthaky dastur nor did I wish to earn a livelihood by spending many hours of my days and nights in performing ceremonies. I did not wish to become a ceremonial dastur. As a dastur my desire was to be a student of religion. The kind of arrangement that had been made for my maintenance differed from the traditional practice of our community. The Anjuman had decided to pay me a monthly emolument of Rs. 150/-. It had collected this amount by voluntary monthly or annual donations from members of the community.
My financial standing was unstable. When I had incurred my life's very first debt through the publication of "Goolshan-e-Danesh", my uncle had advised me to beware of the malady of becoming a debtor. But I could not save myself from this weakness. I was unable to repay the debt incurred when I disassociated myself from the dairy. A member of the community had loaned me one thousand five hundred rupees. It was with great difficulty that I was able to pay interest on this amount every month. When I was studying at the Madressah at Bombay. certain organizations paid me a lump sum for lecturing under their auspices. At such times I would repay four or six months' interest in advance, which the gentleman accepted willingly. But once I was not able to pay interest for two months whereupon the loanee in stern terms reprimanded me that such a lapse should not be repeated. As his rate of interest was high, a mobed friend secured the amount for me from a Sindhi gentleman at an interest of four annas lower than his. From that amount I cleared my debt to my [274] coreligionist. But fresh troubles arose with this new creditor. My wife always controlled all house-hold expenditure, so the promissory note was presented under her signature. This was not acceptable to him. He became suspicious because I had not signed it myself. The Sindhi gentleman refused to credit my friend's statements regarding my status and my reputation. When he was told that my library alone at that time was worth Rs. 2000/-, he ridiculed the fact, adding that, should the sheets be sufficiently large someone might even deign to buy them on the worth of their weight; but if the leaves are torn from a book they would be of no use even to the grocer and he would not purchase them! For two years the interest was paid, but as the capital remained unpaid he became impatient. He demanded that the loan be repaid immediately, so my friend brought a wealthy Vora gentleman who loaned money at the rate of 15% interest. This gentleman knew me and held me in high esteem, but he was not prepared to curtail the interest by a pie.
The allowance I was to receive was not sufficient for the upkeep of my family. Every month I bought books worth Rs. 12/- or Rs. 15/-. At short intervals booklets of varying dimensions were being printed and distributed gratis. My life of learning demanded certain unavoidable expenses. To meet these expenses, I had the support of the illustrious family of Tatas, the patrons of literature. I had an admirer in Sir (then Mr.) Ratan Jamshedji Tata, the revered gentleman who valued literature, science, art and craft and who had spent thousands on excavations and discoveries at Patlipatra (Modern Patna). He had declared his willingness to bear the cost of my life of learning. Camaji and Jeevanji had built up hopes. On the strength of this support and thanks to his generosity, I was able to accept the dasturship of Karachi.
[275] On Amerdadsal 19th September 1909, my 35th birthday, I was invested with the dasturship. On the occasion I delivered a lecture before the assembly. The contents of that talk I compiled into a booklet entitled, "Why I accepted the Dasturship" and distributed it amongst the members of the community. To give an idea of my views of that time upon what the duties of a dastur should be, the same is published hereunder:
"When a community advances in education, its outlook on certain matters undergoes a change. Similarly its ideas about what the duties of the priest-class should be also alter. Under such circumstances, if the priestly class also changes with the times, not many difficulties arise. But if the condition of the priest class remains as it was and laymen advance on the strength of their scholarship leaving them behind in the race, then step by step the feelings of respect for that illiterate priestly class abate. Thus when sentiments slacken for the custodians of religion, then ultimately faith itself falters.
"This is the state of affairs of the community at present. When the younger generation notices a lack of respect and independence in the priestly profession they refrain from following that profession. This complaint is prevalent in the advanced countries of the West also. Today highly educated young men do not become priests as they did in days gone by. At present there are complaints in Europe and America that, barring youths of mediocre capability, the intelligent and exceptionally brilliant young men are drifting away from this vocation. Many a young, well-educated mobed graduates from our Madressah every year, but all of them turn away from that vocation and not one seems eager to attain the dasturship. This may be due to more lucrative outlets in other professions, or the lack of prestige, or, possibly, [276] they fear that they may not be able to enjoy the freedom of thought commensurate with their high training. The Kadmis have not yet been successful in persuading any educated young man to accept the leadership of their group. But when a religious leader selfishly claims his own clientele and makes it hereditary, decline sets in. Thus a custom commences whereby capability, character or quality is not evaluated but the right of succession is the only criterion of nomination. This is harmful to the mobed flock itself. Religion suffers and people lose faith. This is also one of the reasons why educated youths do not embrace priesthood. They also deem it safer to remain aloof from this profession for fear of coming into conflict of thought with their uneducated brethren and also because they find that laymen do not distinguish between the work of educated and uneducated priests and appreciate their services accordingly.
"Our community is dynamic — it moves forward with the onward march of advancement. It is not a static community — a community that remains inert, inactive. In such a community the position of a dastur is difficult. Problems that our forefathers never dreamt of are being justifiably discussed amongst us; and in such circumstances it is not easy to satisfy a cultured community and to set its footsteps on the path of real reform. In order to be able to do this, there is need for true knowledge, worldly experience, common sense and far-sightedness together with courage and the capability to endure the onslaughts of the conservative section of an easily-excited and sentiment-ridden community.
'-The orthodox members of the community believe that the duty of a dastur is only to safeguard zealously age-old customs and traditions. These gentlemen place the precepts of religion and [277] practice of its rituals on the same level and firmly declare that these cannot be altered. If some necessary alterations are suggested to suit the clime and conditions, they begin to harbour imaginary fears that the foundations of the faith will be weakened. When such an attitude stretches beyond limits it transforms into blind bigotry. Such a religiosity has never borne good results anywhere. Among the many causes of the downfall of Persia, one was that during the Sasanian period our priest class had become less tolerant. Blind bigotry is not the true test of faith and it is improper to evaluate a community's strength of faith on such findings. .
"This is also one of the important reasons why an educated mobed does not join the priestly fold. When he begins to evaluate things in the light of knowledge, begins to distinguish the true from the false, is able to weed out the unworthy, and the majority of the community has not the vision to accept his freedom of thought, then he does not shoulder the responsibility of such a thankless profession. In this case both parties are at fault. If educated youths shirk the responsibility of a public career, and fear public censure and criticism then there can never be true reforms in the world, Our educated mobeds should understand their responsibility and even at the cost of personal sacrifice and discomfort, they should be prepared to serve the community.
"On the other hand, the orthodox section of our community must realize that, however noble their intention, in the absence of the fore-sight to work in tune with the times and to cling doggedly to false and superstitious customs merely because of tradition and to oppose all attempts to alter them, is not true service to religion.
[278] "The history of various sects in the world reveals that, due to such opposition, the truly capable cannot remain within the church and eradicate its errors. In their role as reformers they are obliged to conduct their work from outside; for, once they consent to join an association, the older members take it for granted that the newcomer must blindly accept all its ideals and objectives. If someone joins such an organization and endeavours to suggest any changes from within he has to endure great hardship and ultimately to abandon it. Hence men of independent thought prefer to remain outside the profession; while others who are educated but lacking in courage suppress their beliefs and, with feeble hearts, work merely to please their patrons.
"Focusing our attention on our social history of the last few decades, it will be noticed that any necessary reforms or changes that have been made have not originated from our leading educated men of religion but from outsiders. Among the many reasons why religious men do not take a lead in such matters is that it is necessary to adhere to the wishes of a large majority of the community. But the wheels of time turn on accomplishing their objectives. Truth rises to the surface from the depths of opposition and is ultimately accepted by all. Yet, day by day for guidance and leadership people are turning away from men of religion regarding such reforms. Consequently their need is not so keenly felt and respect for them is on the ebb.
"People must realize that the duty of a dastur is not the blind guardianship of ancient creeds and customs merely on the strength that "old is gold"; nor is it to pamper popular sentiment. Such an attitude may be simple; it may evoke applause, it may gain cheap renown; but it does not behoove the stature of a dastur who bears upon his shoulders [279] the responsibility of being a true disciple of Zarathushtra. Those who are under the impression that a dastur has no concern with our so-called irreligious educated youth, but only to affiliate with the orthodox and to uphold old ideas, are quite mistaken. This is not true leadership. It is not the path of righteousness preached by Prophet Zarathushtra. Such a mode of working is not beneficial in the long run. The onslaught of education is in full force and today's illiterate will be the enlightened ones of to-morrow. Thus every year a fairly large batch of educated boys and girls is drifting away which our community can ill afford. It is the bounden duty of a true dastur to check our educated youths from becoming irreligious or irresponsive to religion, for which they should be prepared to serve according to changed times and circumstances.
"In our community the word 'reform' has become distasteful and unpalatable. This is to twist the purport of an innocent word. Reform means to form again for the better. Any thinking man must need be an admirer of law and order; but at times, while trying to introduce a reform if some error is committed, people do not have the patience to find out the error and to correct it, but wrongly implicate the word reform. This is a grave fault. According to our religious literature the greatest reformist was Prophet Zarathushtra himself. His religion was a religion of reform. It was a faith that wiped out false practices from a nation and introduced newer and better ways of living. If, with the passage of time and the alteration of dynasties, the true spirit of religion has been lost sight of and undesirable elements have crept in, it is the duty of a true Zoroastrian to remove such misunderstandings and to bring in reforms. These discrepancies might have been born out of centuries of ignorance or through [280] contact with different nations. It is a sacred injunction for a dastur particularly to introduce such sound and necessary reforms.
"This is an unrewarding and thankless task. Long-standing beliefs, however erroneous, have the stamp of longevity, making them so precious to the general public that the mere mention of the slightest change grips them with a genuine fear that religion would be endangered thereby. Severe criticism is leveled against the reformist. But time turns its own tides. Unwarranted and miscalculated reforms die a natural death, whilst true reforms ultimately come to light. They who had previously harassed the reformist for daring to raise a voice against age-old practices, later themselves or their descendents honour his memory. The history of various nations abounds in such examples. An excellent example is that the greatest reformists of the world like Zarathushtra or Jesus or Socrates or Bruno or Galileo have had to lose their lives because they dared to introduce reforms and because their ideas were not in conformity with those of their own times. Yet today enlightened mankind remembers them with love and reverence.
II As a true reformer a dastur has not to introduce reforms merely for self-aggrandisment or just for the sake of doing something new. His is not the role so much of a destroyer as of a coordinator. Despite his breadth of vision he should go forward with care and caution. He should hold before him Zarathushtra's example of tolerance and perseverance. Without support or sympathy of a single soul, and in face of opposition from all quarters, Zarathushtra wandered from place to place, ti11, after ten long years he was able to win his very first disciple. Our beloved prophet had to face [281] untold hardships and hindrances, all kinds of attempts were made to defeat his noble work, yet he did not despair or lose hope. Upholding the aim and ideal of his own sacred mission, he cared not for worldly opposition and suffering. Just as it is necessary for all public-spirited individuals who take part in public life, it is also essential for a dastur to have the qualities of courage and endurance. A dastur will never be able to please people of all sects. Should he be a conservative, he will attract the displeasure of the reformists; even so, should he himself hold more advanced opinions he will be disliked by the orthodox. At the same time a dastur must remember that he is not true to his vocation if he endeavours merely to please a certain section of the community, or to win favour of another; or, fearing the annoyance of some group, abstains from expressing his own opinion. The most important characteristic of a religious leader is independence of thought. Undeterred by seeming benefit, he should not become a parasite or a dependent, but be prepared to endure any opposition arising from following the dictates of his own conscience.
"Each has his own ideas about the obligations of a dastur. Certain people believe that his main duty lies in performing ceremonies or in supervising them. Some lay stress on the purity of his own private conduct, while others evaluate his services by his contribution to literature through the publication of books, or his religious lectures and sermons. A dastur's duty is not encompassed in any single branch of the above, but he has to work through all these channels. Besides, he has to take a leading part in a community's social controversies, he has to establish new organisations that can fulfill the awakening religious, educational and other [282] needs of the community, strengthen existing organisations and he must be prepared to serve the community with enthusiasm in a million other ways. Again when a nation is in the infancy of enlightenment it believes that a religious leader is concerned not so much with this world but with the next world. In other words he is looked upon as a link between this world and the next, one who is able to secure an unearned place in heaven for the laity by the performance of certain ceremonies and by his influence as an agent of the other world. Our community has passed that stage and fully comprehends the compass of the priest's work. Besides, according to the precepts of Zarathushtra, each man is responsible for his own actions. No confessor's influence can gain for him heaven's happiness. To obtain it he has to live a pure and righteous life. The only assistance that the religious leader can render is by his own religious teachings which can show the layman the true path, make him conscious of his duty to himself, to mankind and to his Maker — in other words enlighten him to become a true Zoroastrian. Although a community appoints a dastur to be its religious head, he must understand that the greatest of men even the prophets themselves-felt that their prime duty was to serve mankind. likewise he too must always come forward enthusiastically in the social service of his community.
"Since I have made known to you my views about the obligations of a dastur, you will realize how I regard the responsibility of the honour you have conferred upon me. To be of service to the community, to have the strength to contribute something towards the uplift of the priest class, to be a channel for attracting young, educated mobeds to the vocation, are the ideals that have prompted me to accept this dasturship today. Only
283
the future can tell how far I am able to fulfill my ambitions or how much satisfaction my work will give you. I seek your sympathy and your cooperation in the work that lies ahead and ask only that should my future deeds evoke your displeasure, do not be led away by emotion and assign to them motives of your own imagination but do me justice, and have the largeness of mind to understand that I have acted according to the dictates of my innermost conscience."
[284]
In 1909 two important questions demanded my complete attention. One was the approaching appointment of a high priest and the other was to establish a kind of association that could organize a Zoroastrian Conference to ponder upon and discuss problems pertaining to the progress and betterment of the community. My primary thought was that due to religious and economic conditions our priest class had been divided into many sects after coming to India. The rift between them was so wide that no longer was there any cooperation in the performance of ceremonies or the recitation of prayers amongst the present followers of Zarathushtra.
The Athornan fold had no constitution. There did not exist amongst them a central organization like an integrated Athornan Anjuman. The united, authoritarian Zoroastrian Church had broken down with the fall of the Parsi Empire.
It was my desire and my hope that all the dasturs, mobeds and ervads of all the varied sects could meet on a common platform and ponder upon their own condition. But upon more serious thought it seemed that, however noble the idea of calling a conference of Athornans alone may be, it was impracticable at the present juncture, taking into consideration the rift between the panthaks, the rivalry among the dasturs and other disruptions. So I thought that there would be greater chances of advancement if some impartial scholars, behdins like Khurshedji Cama or Meherwanji Cama who truly loved and revered the group of religious teachers were included in this movement. Many an evening passed in discussing this question while on our daily walks. Finally, on [285] 12th August 1909 I sent the following letter from Karachi to all the dasturs, leading mobeds, educated ervads and some Jay members of the community.
“At present we hear of annual congresses, conferences and conventions being held allover the world to discuss questions of importance to a nation. Thus the representatives of different nations assemble on a common platform to exchange their view-points. Light is thrown on literature, religious tolerance is enhanced, scope is created to cultivate public opinion and many other benefits accrue.
"On this occasion I wish to make a suggestion that, on some such lines, we should call an annual Zoroastrian Conference in different cities, at which some service could be rendered to the community by reading out papers concerning religious questions and social customs of the community. Thus by giving an opportunity to the dasturs, mobeds, ervads, and panthakies of various panthaks to collect their own Anjomans on a common platform, the diversity of opinions regarding religious ceremonials or other problems could be solved in a healthy atmosphere. Our learned dasturs and ervads and our lay scholars with their combined thinking will be able to find a way to improve the condition of our priestly class. Everyone realises the importance of this improvement yet no concrete steps have been taken. Although we recognize and fully realise that our calculation of the calendar year is faulty yet due to sheer carelessness we either bye-pass it or we do not have the courage to alter and improve it, knowing the difficulties involved. Should some representative today express its views upon this, the community would consider it valuable.
"Moreover, we are not so advanced as we imagine, that there is no scope for improvement. Despite all the talk about being educated, there are many among us who continue superstitious practices like dev, dehrans, pirs and kabirs. Some such organization would be of immense value to resolve many a problem of this sort. Besides, we shall be able to stimulate an interest and arouse a sentiment about religion at places where such conferences are organised. It may be argued that such conferences are necessary for backward societies but not for an advanced community like the Parsis. In response it is well-known how beneficial have proved conferences organised at high levels, in the very advanced countries of Europe and America, where such conferences have been deemed most necessary. Such bodies confer upon not only religious matters but also on various branches of scientific importance. It may also be argued that this is not necessary for a small community like the Parsis and our need can be met through our newspapers and other channels. In reply to that we can only state that in western countries the various small sects of different Christian churches, or the theosophists in our land whose strength is smaller than ours, the Arya Samajists and others hold such meetings which doubtless prove of immense value.
"Upon receipt of replies we shall announce when and under whose chairmanship the first conference will be held."
It was my idea to offer the Chairmanship of the first conference to one who by birth was a behdin but a true dastur in conduct and in wisdom — Ulema Khurshedji Cama. But fate had ordained otherwise and, within a week of publishing my circular, all of a sudden his heart failed and he passed away to meet his Maker. The suggestion to hold a Zoroastrian Conference was [287] welcomed with enthusiasm by a large majority, but in order to make it more effective many people from Bombay advised that the Conference be thrown open to the entire community so that any communal question regarding its improvement could be discussed. Keeping this in mind I circulated another pamphlet at the conclusion of which I added the following:
“At this stage the conference as a body should refrain from announcing the opinion of any one party as its own. Let gentlemen of learning express their own opinions on the strength of their scholarship, each bearing the responsibility of his own opinion. Discussions should be avoided in the beginning and the work carried on in an atmosphere of tolerance and with an open mind."
It was decided to hold the Conference at Bombay on 16th, 17th and 18th April 1910 and both of us went to Bombay a month in advance to make arrangements for it. Eventually I personally met many leading men of the community and won their sympathy for the movement. I persuaded the learned Dastur Darab Sanjana of the Wadiaji Atashbehram to accept the Chairmanship of the ad hoc committee and requested the deputy Dastur Rustom Sanjana to work as the Secretary. Both these gentlemen willingly agreed to take up these responsibilities. At the first meeting of the committee the enthusiastic young advocate, Dhunjishaw Madon and the solicitor Rattanshaw Dadachanji volunteered as Joint Secretaries which the committee accepted with gratitude. The first three meetings of the committee were held under the Chairmanship of Dastur Darab and the work went on smoothly. The Committee circulated a confidential memorandum amongst those who had expressed a desire to read their own papers or those who were appointed to propose resolutions and to second them, which read as follows:
[288] "While placing for adoption before the Conference resolutions relating to the religious, social and educational uplift of the community, particular care should be taken not to offend the feelings of any sect nor to raise questions that would create undue controversy. Only such resolutions that are liable to be adopted fairly unanimously without much argument shall be allowed,"
Up to this time the community had welcomed the preliminary Conference with one accord. Daily and weekly newspapers spared no pains in giving it their whole-hearted support. Yet within a short span of time some imaginary misgivings were afloat about some work that was to be conducted at the Conference, the echoes of some unsound complaints were heard, the wings of unfounded rumours began to flap amidst Parsi circles. It was whispered that the conference was not in reality all that it appeared to be in public. Just as an elephant's tusks differ from its grinders, even so the apparent character of the Conference differed from its secret motives. It was equivocal and ambiguous. It was misleading. It was deceitful. It was scheming to reverse the customs and traditions of the community. In this atomic age just as a mechanized army advances in full force and with lightning speed scatters its enemy, the present-day press that hardly allows breathing time to the reader and attacks morning, noon and night with all the force at its command, is able to enfeeble the opposition. Doubt arises even in the minds of the thinking group; the majority thoughtlessly believes that when so many people write so much so many times, then it is bound to be the truth! Our adventurous, forceful, daily communal newspapers, through eight editorials a week and twelve articles scribbled during the twelve hours between dawn and dusk, completely confused the community. The more conservative members resigned from the committee and the Zoroastrian Conference that had its birth [289] and its existence without any sect or party or opinion, bent only upon making it all-embracing, suddenly came to be regarded as a separate, extreme, reformist party and henceforth took the semblance of what it was not.
Many accusations and condemnations were leveled against the Conference. Not because of any crimes that it had committed but that, finding an opportunity it would do so, was the imaginary basis on which it was unthinkingly deemed guilty. These accusations were of two kinds. The first of those were unidentified and uncircumscribed. Those included far fetched and fiery accusations that stirred the sentiments of the common people and excited their feelings. They presumed that the organizers of the Conference were endeavouring to coat with a veneer of the West, the customs and traditions of the community and were craving to correct the errors of our prophet and to reform his religion. Others were definite and pointed. Among these, the main were that the Conference was trying to seize the Gahambar funds; that it was determined to limit the burning of sandalwood, that it desired to throw open the gateways of the community to non-Zoroastrians; and that it was creating a sentiment of doing away with the age-old custom of the disposal of the dead and were advocating cremation.
The complaint regarding the Gahambar fund was not entirely unfounded. The opinion of the leading organisers of the Conference was that with changing times and circumstances, instead of conserving lacs of rupees for communal dinners on certain days of the year in Bombay and other places, they could be utilized in more beneficial ways to the community. This suggestion was not new. Before going to America I had publicised these views. Besides, this question had been considered in various places [290] at various times, and in certain places to some extent it had been put into practice also. Above all, the most that the Conference could have done about it would have been to try to cultivate communal opinion about it. Hence if there had been some discussion on this question or some suggestive resolution adopted, it would not have endangered the religion in any way.
The question of sandalwood that had arisen was built up on the strength of the opinions expressed at a lecture in Bombay, a month prior to the Conference. In that lecture I had made known that since fire had a sanctity in our religion, it was our prime duty to keep it eternally fragrant and flaming in our Atashkedeh. There is a vast difference between the fragrant fuel that was used in Iran ages ago and is still being used there and in that which we are using since we came to India. We are using extremely expensive items like sandalwood and frankincense most lavishly. This was not done in Iran. Even today, we will not be able to find a piece of sandalwood in the most aristocratic Zoroastrian home of Iran. We are using a much more expensive fuel than the fragrant fuel used there. Each machi costing approximately twenty to twenty-five rupees that we have been offering in the Atashbehram and Atashkedeh at Udvada and other places counts up to more than three thousand machis annually. At times there have been instances when some wealthy lady or gentleman has even offered agar machis costing three hundred rupees. One such machi had been recently offered at Udvada. Taking that as an example I explained that Ahura Mazda does not estimate a man's faith according to the weight and value of sandalwood and frankincense, but he examines only the latent purity and honesty of mind and heart. A pure heart is the noblest offering that can be made to the sacred fire. A piece of sandalwood or agar is but an outward symbol of the [291] gift. A round of applause greeted my expressions and when they were publicised in the press no objection was raised against them. But now, when a jehad had been started against the conference, then forceful articles began to excite and arouse the community and to injure its feelings.
In the first decade of this century, the jooddin question was raised with such force, it created such bitterness and such wide-spread bickering as was unparalleled in the history of the community. A fierce battle of words and of writings was raging between those who were for and against the jooddin question. Its echoes resounded from Karachi to Calcutta and from Kashmir to Cape Comorin. The Parsi community of every village and town had been aroused and excited. If it could be proved that the Conference was being invited only to revive the jooddin question that had just recently abated, then it would become so unpopular in the community that it would be suicidal. And the opposition spared no pains to do so. A large expenditure was to be involved in having the resolutions, reports and agendas of the Conference printed. Sir Rattan Tata who had the betterment of the community at heart. had been approached to help in this direction and he had readily accepted to do so and I had conveyed that information at a committee meeting. Seizing this opportunity members of the opposition deliberately associated the name of Mr. Rattanji Dadabhoy Tata who had a direct link with the jooddin question instead of Sir Rattan Tata, thus stirring up the sentiments of the community. The fact was that when the movement for convening the Conference commenced, he was in Europe and knew nothing about its organization. He had returned just a week prior to the inauguration of the Conference. He had not the haziest idea of the existence of a Conference. In my booklet entitled "The Jooddin Question" published in 1919, I stated that it was as ridiculous to [292] consider Mr. Rattanji Tata as the father of the Zoroastrian Conference as it was to say that the German Kaiser was involved in its establishment and that was the truth. There were some gentlemen who had never been interested in the working of the Conference nor had they attended any of its sessions but had joined it only after an uproar had started against it. He was one of those gentlemen.
Rumour has no established birthplace. It emanates from a single breath yet spreads like tongues of wild fire. It is not immortal yet it is certainly long-lived. It passes down from generation to generation and becoming universal, rumour turns into legend or, at times, it even gets entwined into the pages of history.
The fictitious theory that the Zoroastrian Conference had come into being with the support of Mr. Rattanji Dadabhoy Tata was not buried. Long after the Conference had ceased to exist, when Mr. Tata died, some people could not be rid of this false impression, and in the articles notifying his death they did not fail to comment that he had played a prominent part in organising the Conference. Sir Dinshaw Petit had in the beginning kept aloof from the Conference, telling me that it would not be workable nor would it benefit the community in any way. But when a fierce controversy arose against it and its sessions were being endangered, he expressed his willingness to support it. Within a week he sat at the head at a dinner organized by the Conference and the following year he became its Chairman. Just as the opposition towards the Conference had driven away the orthodox group from us, it had at the same time, brought into our fold many indifferent individuals of more reformist views who had not bothered to concern themselves with communal questions or to take part in any of its movements. Hence, gradually the Conference became a reformist [293] body, although serious, balanced moderates like Jeevanji Mody, Meherwanji Cama and others continued to take an enthusiastic interest in it.
Another accusation against the Conference was that it wished to introduce crematorium in the community. The crematorium question was raised in the community for the first time at the start of the century. A rumour was afloat that a certain gentleman who had gone on vacation to Europe was making arrangements in London to establish a crematorium in Bombay for the use of the community and that he intended to bring with him the necessary wherewithal. Later, when he returned, he belied the rumour and announced that he had no connection whatever with such a movement. The conservative members of the community invited authorative opinions of Zoroastrian scholars on the question. Among other western savants, Professor Jackson had also received one such questionnaire from Bombay which he showed me. It desired enlightenment upon whether according to the precepts of the Zoroastrian religion the dead could be cremated. In Bombay this question had raised quite a bitter controversy for some time. At the initial stages of organising the Conference the leading sympathisers of crematorium had not become its members, and, but for a few exceptions, they were not present at its first annual meeting even as spectators. In the light of this, the blame leveled against the Conference of wanting to dispose dead bodies by cremating had no foundation.
Besides such accusations against the Conference of contriving to disrupt religious customs and practices, the indictment of insulting the prophet by calling him an ordinary man was leveled against me with full force. At the same time an anonymous booklet was published attacking the custom of certain observances by women during their menses. Later the name of the author came
[294]
to light as that of an elderly layman. Another leaflet was also published stating that the expense incurred at funerals was a wastage and that the ceremonies performed did not in any way benefit the deceased. All this was like adding fuel to fire. The organizers of the Conference were not even aware of these nor were they in any way responsible for them; yet daily impassioned articles to the effect that they are the originators of all these troubles and that everything was being done under their direction created a great deal of excitement in the community. In such an inflammatory atmosphere the work of the Conference was inaugurated.
[295]
The joyous couple enters into marriage with dreams of a life-long honeymoon but as soon as the threshold is crossed, rumblings of discord are heard. The bride sulks and the groom frowns and the home is founded on disputes and disharmony. Even so, as I crossed the threshold of dasturhood, the majority of the community frowned on me. Daily the suppliant begs forgiveness for 'O em goft, O em kard' — 'for whatever I may have said or whatever I may have done'. In my case, 'O em na goft, O em na kard — 'for whatever I may not have said, and whatever I may not have done', the violent opposition leaders succeeded in branding me guilty in the eyes of the masses. Making capital out of my not being a 'maratab', messages started pouring in from Bombay not to recognize or acknowledge me as a head priest. From all sides I was accused of having presented Zarathushtra as an 'ordinary' man. I was charged with harbouring vain presumptions of reforming the religion of Prophet Zarathushtra. Five people read those messages, fifteen heard them and re-told them to fifty. Soon the rumour spread to five hundred and within the twinkling of an eye five thousand minds had labeled me as a dangerous dastur and an irresponsible reformist.
I knew that I was being vilified without rhyme or reason. In Bombay I had noticed that such false notions about me were prevalent not only amongst the masses. I discovered that even some educated and thinking men and women, and some public personalities considered as the priceless gems of the community, in their innocence, also believed this hearsay. The famous Behramji Malbari voiced such an opinion. Sir Hormusji Wadia reminded me how cautiously the learned Judge of the High [296] Court, Mahadev Govind Ranade had conducted proceedings from the time of the establishment of the Hindu Social Conference. I have always considered it wise to listen respectfully to anyone who levels frank and honest criticism against the conduct of an institution and invite him to join that organization. By doing so, the good critic realizes the difficulties that confront that institution, and perchance his views change. I persuaded Sir Wadia to grace the Conference with his presence and to preside over it. By presiding over the Conference and by attending the meetings of its Working Committee throughout the year, he got acquainted with the true nature of its work and became our sympathetic colleague. I received an extremely well-written anonymous letter in Bombay, full of friendly and sound advice. Very respectfully he had reminded me of Shakespeare's sentence: "Discretion is the better part of valour", thereby incidentally hinting that I was lacking in discretion. This advice, to recognize the sum and substance of a thing, and to work in consonance with the time and tide of events, was golden. But it was not new to me. I was not divorced from it. It was ingrained in me. "Spenamainu", God's ethereal craftsman, had mixed a fair share of common-sense and discretion together with a fairly good memory, imagination, comprehension and the power of composition while moulding the matter of my mind. And I never fail to evaluate its worth and recognize its importance. My wife was not very highly qualified, but the Creator had gifted her mind so lavishly with these two invaluable human qualities that she was capable of solving the most complex problems of everyday living more aptly than could be done by learned professors of logic who, unfortunately, were not endowed with these two incomparable gifts. As I was not wont to writing or speaking in public to explain the injustices done to me, I had to [297] endure them patiently. Among the fine gentlemen who were in the vanguard of our Conference, was a leader who had recently retired from a very high position. He jested that he was not prepared to lose favour with the community to the extent that I was. He added that as many years of life lay ahead of me, there was ample time for me to win back the confidence of the community. But it did not befit a person of his advanced age to incur such severe displeasure of the community; for, should he lose their love and respect at his age, he did not have the time to regain them. Time was in my favour, so I continued to do my humble duty silently.
A mammoth meeting of the opposition party was called at the Faramjee Cowasjee Institute to read out the protests against the Conference that had been collected from various cities of Gujarat by string-pulling from Bombay. At this meeting I was attacked in unrestrained language. A very highly qualified university graduate, well-known for his impetuosity, with the purpose of playing upon the sentiments of his audience, even crossed the limits of common courtesy to say that only a wretched community like the Parsis would tolerate such an insult to their Prophet. Had it been the Muslim community they would have immediately put an end to such a person. Such incitement would not always fall on deaf ears. Some weak-minded men would surely try to act upon it. To write anonymous letters is an unfortunate weakness of our community; hence it was but natural that I started receiving threatening and profane letters. One man had given not only his own name but also the pseudo-names of his father and grandfather; and, pretending to give his residential address, informed me that he had the courage to write to me openly; should I so desire I was free to forward that letter to the Police Commissioner. The letter, besides being full of filthy language, [298] threatened to break my bones should opportunity avail. And all this, he wrote, he was doing as his sacred duty towards his Holy Prophet! I informed my wife that this man who is making a show of giving the names of his family back to two generations and boasting about courting police custody, must not be existing under such a name in the whole wide world. In order to test him I wrote a courteous reply to the given address. After congratulating him for being inspired to write to me because of his staunch fidelity to Asho Zarathushtra, I told him that the spirit of that holy man must have been extremely distressed at the filthy language he had used in the letter — language that ill-became a gentleman, and least of all a Zoroastrian. At the conclusion of my daily worship I would pray to Ahura Mazda that He may bestow greater wisdom on him, and on other co-religionists like him, and to wean them away from the habit of such foul speech. Should there exist a being of the given name, such a reply would have a salutary effect on him, otherwise it would be returned to me by the Dead Letter Office. As expected, not a soul was found to answer to that fictitious name and address, and the postal authorities sent the letter back to me.
At the conclusion of one of my lectures delivered at the hall of the new Atashbehram, about twelve or fifteen young men surrounded me and began to speak against me somewhat insolently. An altercation ensued between them on one side and my wife and party-men on the other. I invited those youths to come the following day to my home and to discuss with me politely and to tell me what they wished to convey. One of the young Joint Secretaries of the Conference did not approve of this. Taking into consideration the violent passion that they had displayed against me, this gentleman thought it unsafe to call them home for a close discussion. If I insisted upon inviting them, [299] this young man persisted he would also like to be present for security purposes. The youths objected to his presence at the meeting. Pacifying the Secretary, an appointment was finally fixed with the young men for the following day. They arrived at the appointed hour, but the Secretary grew restive and came along too. The quarrel started again, but my wife admitted the young men into the house and closed the door upon the enthusiastic Secretary. The argument continued for an hour and a half. The young people brought up the question of having insulted Zarathushtra by calling him an ordinary man; of restricting the burning of sandal-wood; of putting an end to ceremonies and of stopping the recitation of prayers in Avesta. Regarding the rumour about Zarathushtra, I took three-quarters of an hour to explain the underlying philosophy concerning this question. At the end of the explanation many voiced the opinion that if the matter was as I had stated, there was nothing objectionable about it. They said that they had been led away by press reporters. I explained to them very calmly and courteously that it was comprehensible that the illiterate listening to such rumours and reading such exaggerated reports may be led away like sheep without a shepherd; but most regrettable that the educated young men and women of a community that is considered advanced in science, should be steered by sentiment. They should examine and study any controversial question that arises, ponder upon it and then arrive at their own independent opinion about it. Regarding the other questions too, my exposition impressed them favourably. They had arrived as antagonists — they departed as friends.
I had grown accustomed to hearing hissings and booings at whichever gathering I attended or wherever I lectured. Certain people felt obliged to attend on purpose to disturb and to create a commotion. A kind family had placed their carriage at
[300]
our disposal to take us to and bring us back from the Faramji Cowasjee Institute where I was once lecturing. The horse that was attached to the carriage was very strong and sturdy and said to be having five auspicious marks on its body. When the lecture ended my wife and I took our seats in the carriage. Immediately cries of "three cheers" went up from the reformists and in response, the orthodox party to run this down, rent the skies with their hisses. Confused by the inharmonious sounds created by conflicting cries of congratulations and criticism our so-called auspicious horse leaped forward unbridled. The friends who followed were left behind, but fortunately, the horse was brought under control after he had galloped away a great distance without any untoward incident.
[301]
The courageous hero returning victorious from the battlefield. is welcomed by a nation intoxicated with joy. The young and the old, with smiles and with songs, with acclamations of triumph and success, rush to the frontiers of the land to receive the returning hero with due honour and glory. Dancing and singing to the tune of bands and bugles, they leave their homes and hearths and go to greet their valiant saviour. Every street and every home is adorned with flags and garlands, and the victor with wreaths and laurels is driven home in state in the chariot of victory. At every street corner is heard naught but praise of his valour. But the unfortunate one who has been defeated has God alone to greet him. Nature frowns upon him, the sun itself refuses to send out its rays to welcome him and people are ashamed even to look at him. With sheathed weapons and bowed head, in silence and in shame, disgraced and desolate, he sneaks in by the back door.
My co-religionists of Karachi had sent me to Bombay to crown the conference with success. The opposition party left no stone unturned to stop the meetings from being held. Yet we succeeded in holding them. They strained every nerve to break up the meeting but we did not let them break it up. According to schedule, on the third day, midst the commotion caused by conflicting sentiments and despite conflict and confusion, we methodically completed all the items on the agenda and thus the session of the first conference came to a conclusion. They did everything possible to vex and worry us. Sometimes they failed, sometimes they succeeded. They had planned to drown our stage with the help of a hose-pipe that had [302] been provided as a precaution against fire or fumes. That attempt was not successful. A full force of brave soldiers was awaiting at the front entrance to hiss and hoot as we left the hall. Our workers got wind of this and guided us out through a side exit, thus depriving those gentlemen of the pleasure of honouring us with their hisses. However, they derived satisfaction by reporting in the newspapers the following day that we had to make good our escape through the back-door.
Rumours had already reached the realm of my dasturship even before my return to Karachi that I had been disgraced in Bombay and that the Parsi stalwarts of that land had made it incumbent upon me to flee from the Conference Hall by the backdoor. Regarding the Conference, the community at Karachi was divided into various factions. A very strong party was in the opposition. Under the leadership of the Managing Trustee of the Saddar Daremeher, twenty-five people had made an impassioned appeal to the community through handbills, to dethrone me from the seat of the High Priest. A violent storm ensued. Much was spoken and written. Some of it was discreet and judicious — the rest ridiculous. These gentlemen were not satisfied with weighing my worth in the community alone. The leaflets that were printed in Gujarati were freely distributed amongst Hindus, Vohras, Memons and Khojas, while through letters in English they tried to impress upon European officers not to consider me as the High Priest of the Parsis any longer. Such letters were sent to the Commissioner, the Commander-in-Chief of the Army, the Collector, the City Magistrate, the Police Superintendent, the Chairmen of the Chamber of Commerce and the Port Trust, the Collector of Customs and many other heads of similar institutions. Since the conference had been held in Bombay, these men did not forget to [303] apprise the Governor of Bombay also. Just as in trade and commerce, the rise and fall of prices depends upon the good or bad tidings of supply and demand or as the stock market ascends and descends accordingly, it was happening in our community. Should anything favourable appear in the weekly newspapers of Bombay which arrived in Karachi, my admirers would be elated and some of my more enthusiastic supporters — both priests and laymen — would try to defend me through heated arguments, each according to his own light and in his own individual organization. But when daily newspapers came from there, carrying articles and editorials galore, all against me, their enthusiasm would abate and that of the opposition would augment. As arguments kept mounting, Khan Bahadur Sir (then Mr.) Kawasjee Hormusji Katrak and four other leading gentlemen came to me and informed me that they intended calling a meeting of the Anjuman to pass a vote of confidence in me. I thanked them for their kind thought but prevailed upon them not to do anything of the sort. They further argued that it was necessary, not so much for our own community but for those of other communities also and particularly for government officials, to be cognizant of the true feelings of the community. However, these kind gentlemen respected my firm faith that there was no necessity for such a step and desisted from taking further action.
My well-wishers even offered varied advice according to their own understanding. On a sick visit people do not fail to submit all kinds of counsel as an expression of their kind feeling and sympathy. They vie with each other in advising the relatives of the sick person to change the doctor who is treating their patient and to try another in whom they have greater faith; or to alter a given treatment for some other mode of cure. Some even suggest to stop consulting physicians [304] or homeopaths and to seek the guidance of some saint or sadhu. The dear ones of a long-suffering patient are naturally dejected. They are confused with these conflicting warnings and are prepared to try any quackery or deception.
Similarly, my supporters, in their honest endeavour to help me out of my difficulties, were ever eager to proffer some sort of counselor remedy. One kind Behdin gentleman who always recited five or seven various Yashts throughout the day and night, strongly urged me to recite the Gosht Yasht daily so that all my troubles and tribulations may be eradicated. He narrated how his many troubles at various times had been assuaged by the power of that prayer. Having my welfare at heart, in good grace and in the light of his own understanding, he spoke with real feeling and concern, so out or sheer respect I listened to everything in silence. Of course he had not the faintest idea of the contents either of the Gosht or any other Yasht. His sole refuge was his unbounded faith. I did not consider it fair to weaken his faith in any way. I listened patiently to each one who expended advice according to his own intelligence and let him depart with the utmost satisfaction that he had done his duty towards me.
One day a priest, attached to the American Mission, came to visit me. He informed me that since years he had been spreading the holy religion of Jesus Christ in South Africa. At present he was here for a few days en route his return to his own country for a few months' vacation. While glancing through the Daily Gazette — the daily local newspaper — at his hotel, he had read that I was working as the Head Priest of the Parsis in Karachi. My views were very advanced and there was a strong feeling against me in the community regarding my religious principles. As though pitying me, he told me I was not at fault. Western [305] education had broadened my vision, hence it was but natural that the teachings of my religion did not satisfy me. That was not surprising, as there was only one religion in the whole world that could respond to the intellect of learned men and help them to solve the secrets of life in an enlightened manner — and that was the Christian religion. No other faith could assuage the thirst and hunger of the soul. Thus sermonizing, he took out a copy of the New Testament from his bag and handed it to me saying that, that holy book would give me the light as I had hitherto not seen and would show me the true path of life. Accepting the book with gratitude, I informed him that I possessed both the New and the Old Testaments and had studied both. On hearing this he replied that my study must surely be imperfect, as it was impossible for any sane person to study that sacred book carefully and not become its devotee. Very courteously I explained to him that God, His holy angels, the soul's immortality, Resurrection — all these precepts were to be found in Zoroastrianism also. Immediately he interrupted that these must necessarily be incomplete. Christianity, which is God's only perfect religion, is destined to supplant all other religions. In reply I further enlightened him that all the Christian teachings commencing from Angelology right up to Eschatology were well-known as the basis of Zoroastrianism, centuries prior to the birth of Christ. He started laughing and declared my statements to be nonsensical. I immediately brought out two or three books from the cupboard and placed them before him, adding that just as he was an American priest, the universally renowned professor of the Oxford University, Rev. Dr. Lawrence Mills was also an American and albeit a priest. Similarly the learned Professor Jackson of the Columbia University was also an American. I turned the pages of the book and showed him passages in support of my statements. He neither read them nor did he handle them. [306] Rising from his seat hastily, he walked away informing me rather haughtily that he was a busy man and had no time to enter into arguments, Following him to the compound gate I bid him good-bye and sent him on his way.
I did not scorn the sentiments that had been growing against me in the community. I fully realized the seriousness of the situation. Due to my having changed from a conservative to a reformist, I had personal experience of the strong and staunch sentiments of my childhood and youth. My views were not in conformity with those of my critics, yet I respected them. Had knowledge and circumstances not wrought a change of heart and had my ideas remained intact even after reaching reasoning adulthood, I would have welcomed the opposition of the antagonists. I listened to all that was said against me, read everything that was written to run me down. That did not annoy me, nor was I offended by the authors of such lectures and writings.
If anyone wished to seek an explanation, I did not grudge him the time or the opportunity. Those who met me personally usually left as friends. Once a wealthy person wrote to me in an authoritative tone that, complying with the request of the opposition committee, I should resign my dasturship within forty-eight hours otherwise legal steps would be taken against me. This was a novel surprise. I read this queer "notice” in a happy frame of mind. Neither did I disregard it with ill-humour, nor did I assign it to the waste-paper basket. I simply sent the writer a message, requesting him to meet me. He felt awkward to meet me in my home, but should I go to the Parsi Virbaijl School, he was willing to meet me there. We met and discussed matters. He was pleased and we parted friends.
[307] Most of the things that were spoken or written about me were not true — they did me injustice. Yet I refrained from replying to anyone. My supporters were displeased with this attitude. I advised them to let time take its own course. Not pacified by that, they reminded me of the adage 'Silence is consent' and coaxed me saying that my silence created a great deal of misunderstanding and people found reason to believe that I avoided replying because I had no reply. I persuaded them that my work was my answer. There could be no greater conqueror of the questions of my tormentors than my duty and my service.
Besides delivering sermons and speeches I often recited passages in Persian from the Shahnamah. Such passages I would write out for boys and girls and tutor them to recite those with correct intonation at the functions arranged by the Y.M.Z.A. With great enthusiasm I prepared young mobeds to deliver sermons and speeches.
During this period I commenced publishing a monthly magazine entitled 'Asha', containing valuable articles on Zoroastrian ethics, history, philosophy etc. Due to insufficient circulation it faced a deficit and had to be abandoned. Strange as it may seem, amongst the clientele, the number of the orthodox clients was greater than that of reformists.
Every Sunday I conducted a class at the large hall of the Parsi Virbaiji School on Zoroastrian ethics and history. Over fifty young boys and girls attended those classes.
Once a week ten or twelve youths came to my house to study the Avestan language.
[308]
Till the beginning of the last century the system of the priests of our community giving religious instruction to their flock through sermons was unknown; nor did the literate laity spread any such knowledge to the masses through lectures and talks. Those who had been to vernacular schools and learnt to scribble a bit on slates for three or four years and credited as learned, read aloud the Gujarati lithographed narrative of our Iranian forefathers or the Arda Viraf Nama, Jamaspi, Bundahishn and Saddar to the members of their family or to neighbours. For political reasons, at the turn of that century the government made a sort of a start to deliver and to direct sermons and speeches. The officers of the East India Company tried to disseminate teachings that could keep the subjects loyal to the authorities. After Surat came under the jurisdiction of Bombay in 1600, its Governor, Sir Jonnathan Duncan, sanctioned a monthly salary of Rs. 50/- to Dastur Cowasjee Rustomji, the Head Priest of the Shanshais of Surat, instructing him that in order to remain loyal to the government it was incumbent upon him to give religious teachings to the Parsis from time to time, and whenever the government required any explanation regarding the customs and practices of the Parsi community, the same should be supplied. During that period the community had commenced being educated to some degree and a new group of young men who had studied English had been created. Navroji Darabji Chandaru, the active and alert editor of the 'Halkaru' (the Herald) and the 'Chabuk' (the Whip) of Bombay, gave a talk in Gujarati at the Town Hall on 'The Customs and Practices of the Parsis'. Later, when Rev. Wilson waged a jihad against Zoroastrianism, he gave [309] talks refuting the same. From ancient times the pulpit has been an integral part of the Christian Church. Under the direction of Rev. Wilson the youth of our community who had acquired English education, were attracted to Christian Churches to listen to their sermons and were deeply influenced by them. It was their earnest desire that our religious leaders should give similar service. The Rahnumai Mazdayasnan Society, which had been established in 1851, later organized sermons and lectures from time to time. But we did not conduct regular Sunday services or sermons as is done in Christian Churches. The reformist press and the educated youths of the community were constantly calling for them, but no practical steps were taken to cater to their needs.
During my period of study at New York I frequently attended one church or another on Sundays; at times when some good and famous speakers were to deliver sermons, I attended both the morning and afternoon services at different churches. At that time I had made up my mind that on returning to Karachi I would arrange to organize regular prayer meetings at the Daremeher on the four Hamkaras of each month. This hope of mine was fulfilled on my attaining the head-priestship. With the eager cooperation of some 'enthusiastic youths and the sympathy of our leaders, an organization, based on the principles of the world-famous Y.M.C.A. came into existence amongst the Parsis of Karachi and it was called the Y.M.Z.A. With the founding of the association, from its inception, we gave prime importance to congregational prayers and sermons on every Hamkara.
We had taken every precaution that no one should have cause to complain, yet, at its very inauguration, an unexpected cause resulted in an uproar. The noble Khan Bahadur Nusserwanjee Mehta, presented a platform of pure teak to the [310] YMZA at this time. For the convenience of speakers It had railings reaching up to the chest on three sides and it was bounded by planks 9" broad. As soon as this news reached the public, those who were inclined to view every move of mine with suspicion, came to the conclusion that there was some grave mischievous import in this. The lecturing platform was not as innocent as it appeared. They assigned to it the appellation of a pulpit and created an agitation that by admitting a pulpit in the Agyari similar to one in church, I was paving the way to bringing an organ too in the future. Humourous tales were afloat about having a requisition signed, appealing to people to be present at the meeting and to tear down the pulpit. What was even more ridiculous was that the opposition party itself informed the police that there was to be a disturbance in front of the Agyari, hence due arrangements should be made. The Hamkara day arrived with a flourish of trumpets. Excitement had been mounting since days through the press and through people, hence the congregational prayer meeting of the Hamkara was inaugurated midst a large assemblage of the rich and the poor, the young and the old of the community. The opponents had contrived to be present on purpose, but they had the grace neither to disturb the prayer nor disrupt the sermon. Merely to save face, some empty threats were thrown out after our departure. No harm befell the pulpit. Many an honoured man and woman from all walks of life and from every town and city has spoken from that dais and even after thirty years it is in sound condition.
Hardly had the impediment of the pulpit been overcome when a new one arose. We had arranged that, on assembling on the Hamkara day, after performing the ablutions and the kusti with the Srosh Baj, Gehs [gahs], etc., all present should rise and recite the Atash Niyayesh before the sacred fire that had been kindling in the urn which was placed in the lecture [311] hall on a raised dais. The sacred fire was thus brought and placed in the hall on occasions such as Navjotes, Jashans and Uthamnas, hence we followed the usual practice. Yet we were accused of insulting the sacred fire that had been enthroned in the sanctum sanctorum. Those pious gentlemen were not prepared to listen to our arguments. At last, when the aspersions cast against us did not abate, we were obliged to abandon this practice. We decided to recite the prayer in the room adjacent to the sanctuary where the sacred fire was kept. As that room was small, only a few could be accommodated, while the rest had to remain in the hall. Now it was their turn to complain. Their plea was that they derived no inspiration when they had to pray with a wall screening them from the fire. After reciting the Niyayesh, the Doova Nam Sataish and the Tandarosti, I used to recite a short benediction composed by me in Gujarati which lasted for about twenty minutes. The whole meeting did not exceed forty-five minutes, so that no one should have cause to be bored or lose patience. In spite of that as the initial excitement abated and our work could be carried on in peace, the enthusiasm also slackened and the congregation gradually thinned. Some leading men informed me that it was impractical for them to attend fifty-two weeks of the year regularly. My reply to them was that it would suffice if instead of fifty-two times they could be present only twenty-two times or even twelve. Leave aside twelve, they did not bother to turn their steps towards the prayer-ceremony even twice a year. The excuse of some was that they found it tiresome to spend four evenings a month in this way, after a full day's hard work. Many were eager to listen to the sermon, but were not keen to participate in the compulsory congregational prayer that preceded it. As time passed we set aside this obligatory prayer and instead recited eight or ten lines from a chosen Avesta passage together with a short explanation in [312] Gujarati, printed copies of which were distributed in the beginning of each month. That recitation was followed by a short sermon. This took approximately half an hour. For seven years we continued these Hamkara prayer-meetings, despite the very poor participation. But when it became impossible to attract people to those meetings despite all our varied efforts, and in the absence of enthusiastic co-operation of the community, we had to end with a heavy heart this religious movement meant to foster a feeling of devotion.
This endeavour to conduct prayer meetings similar to the Sunday services of Christian churches was in response to a long-felt need amongst the educated section of the community. Then why was it a failure? We could not offer hymns sung to the accompaniment of the organ as is done in churches and the majority orthodox section of the community would not have tolerated it. Apart from that we catered for everything that is offered in churches. Side by side with ancient Avesta and Pazand prayers we supplied translations in current languages. We provided for instructive and informative lectures on religious, ethical, social, economic and other topics together with devotional sermons; yet why did we have to abandon our initial attempt in this direction? Even those who went to pray at the Daremeher every day of the month or those who felt it their duty to be present at least on the four Hamkara days of the month, did not cooperate with us in those congregational prayer meetings. Again, why did some people have individual ceremonies performed in another room of the Daremeher at the same time as our prayers or sermons were being conducted?
The prayers that are conducted in Christian churches are congregational. Therein everyone present sings hymns to the tune of various instruments
[313]
and all recite together the same prayer. This practice has been prevalent amongst them since hundreds of years and the faithful of that religion are accustomed to this. This has become their socio-religious tradition. Our prayer has never been congregational — always individualistic. Every individual devotee opens his own secret heart to Ahura Mazda, His holy angels, Yazads and Farohars. Even on the most auspicious occasions when two to five hundred young and old assemble at the Agyari or Atashbehram, each one chooses his own special prayer, recites it at his own individual speed, in whichever tone and air he prefers, filling the place of worship with murmurings that resound and reverberate. In Jashans or at Uthamna ceremonies the priests recite portions of prayers in unison; barring that all prayer is always individually recited at various places. The flowers and fruits which bloom and blossom in a particular clay and crime, may not flourish in another. Even so the precepts and practices suitable to a certain nation in its own peculiar circumstances and surroundings, may not be in consonance with those of another. Similarly our attempts at fostering religious knowledge and devotion could not stand the strain of continuity.
[314]
Since the last seven decades, certain questions seasoned with a measure of bitterness and bickering, are being discussed repeatedly in our community. No decision is arrived at nor are they finally settled. At break of dawn a question is raised, at noontide it subsides; then once again at eventide it waxes and at night it wanes again, leaving behind the message of its re-birth at another dawn. One such question which is as old as the hills, yet always seems fresh, is the question of praying in a current and comprehensible tongue.
In one of our issues of the 'Rahnuma' of 1926, I had penned an article about this. Passages from the same are quoted below:
"At the dawn of history, a section of the Aryan race departed from its native habitation and spread in the four corners of the globe. From time to time some of its tribes came to a place known as Iran on the map of the world and settled there. History identifies this group as Iranians. When they arrived at their new destination they were already semi-civilized. They brought along with them certain good and bad customs, traditions, and superstitions. Certain deities they accounted as good and others as evil. They worshipped the good spirits and feared and .reviled the evil ones. They revered the former as Yazads and repelled the latter as demons. The prayers which they recited for revering the Yazads and reviling the demons were known as Manthras. The holy word 'Mantra' they had inherited from their ancestors. Their Indian cousins too, took this word with them and on the banks of the Indus, they termed it as Mantra.
[315] In Iran, when Prophet Zarathushtra composed devotional songs in praise of Ahura Mazda, he too called them the Manthras. He did so because, in the Iran of his days, this word seemed most appropriate in the vocabulary of the current language in which songs of divine praise were composed. The mother-tongue of Zarathushtra and his compatriots was Avesta in those days. They spoke and thought in that language, so it was in that same language that Zarathushtra composed his Gathas.
"During their life-time prophets are ground in the mill of hardships, but after their death there is a reaction and they are idolized. Devotion is blind and the devotees of the prophets present them as they were not and as they would not wish to be. Fantastic tales and legends are woven around the memory of their lives till they can barely be recognized. It is given out that not only the religions that they have founded, but also their sacred scriptures have been handed over personally to them by the Creator. And people begin to believe that the language in which those holy books were written did not emanate from the minds of men but that they are celestial, spiritual and divine. A credence is established amongst Hindi Aryans that the Vedas have been written in the celestial and supernatural Vedic language, amongst the Muslims that the Quran is in Allah's sacred Arabic, and the Jews and Christians believe that the Bible is in the sanctified Hebrew language. In Iran, after the death of Zarathushtra, the language in which the words he had uttered and the Manthras that he had composed commenced to be credited as hallowed, holy and heavenly and that the twenty-one nasks had descended directly from Ahura Mazda.
“Asho Zarathushtra had proclaimed that the recollection and recitation of the verses of the Mantras that he had composed were meant to [316] purify thoughts, to guide them, to create a feeling of devotion and to develop man's character. But this spiritual ideal of the Mantras could not be maintained very long after Zarathushtra's death. The child-mind is delighted with miracles and marvels. Even so, the sacred scriptures are evaluated not by the wealth of knowledge and idealism they contain, but by their supposed miraculous potentiality. The Manthras, instead of being the source of spiritual inspiration, became the main-springs of magic and miracles. There was created a conviction that due to the supposed miraculous powers of the vocabulary, the recitation of those verses would wipe away all woes and procure all desires. When the very basis of the Mantras is supernatural, it is impossible to utter them without benefit. And so the belief grew that if an amulet of the Manthras is worn around the neck or a talisman is tied around the wrist, no enemy can attack the wearer and any work in hand is successfully accomplished.
"The Avestan language attained a celestial status, but it could not be saved from the clutches of earthly laws. The history of languages reveals that like all living things, a language also blossoms and withers; it either spreads or is smothered, is enriched or impoverished, gains strength or weakens reaches old age and dies. Avesta retained its status as the state language even in the days of Zarathushtra's disciples, so the comments on the Prophet's works continued to be made in the same language. New literature continued to be created and new prayers continued to be composed. But gradually the tone and texture of that tongue altered. Practically two centuries elapsed before ancient Avesta turned into modern Avesta; but during that length of time, just as Avesta kept losing its place in the rank of languages, the thinking of Zarathushtra's descendents grew increasingly superstitious. In spite of that, even the new literature [317] produced in that ineffectual Avesta continued to be accounted as Mantras and they found a place on an equal footing with Zarathushtra's inspired scriptures.
"Two and a quarter millenniums ago, from the time the sun started to set on the regal glory of Zoroastrian Iran, with the admixture of cultures and communities and the clash of languages, Avesta which was credited to be sacred and believed to be divine, the supposedly immortal language, true to the laws that govern all creation, perished!
"The Avestan language died, but it did not fail to leave behind a heritage. The source from which Avesta was derived was Aryan and its offspring, known as Pahlavi, was also Aryan, but not pure Aryan. It had alien blood in its veins. Avesta was nurtured in the Aryan environment of western Iran, whereas Pahlavi was reared in the alien atmosphere of the neighbouring Semitic nations of eastern Iran. It had assimilated words of day-to-day utility which were Semitic in origin, it followed certain Semitic rules of syntax and moreover it had borrowed the characters of this Aryan language and even structurally had become Semitic.
“Even before the Sasanian dynasty started, Pahlavi had become the current and common language of the people. Avesta was the language of religion, and prayers continued to be recited in that language. But the number of people who could understand Avesta was decreasing decade by decade. With the passage of time the laity became completely ignorant of it, and even the section of the priestly class knowing that ancient language was losing in strength. Those learned Athravans who knew that language, started to translate together with commentaries, the entire Avestan literature into the current language of the country. They began to write essays of varying dimensions on religious subjects for the guidance of [318] the masses. Thus a limited amount of Zoroastrian literature in Pahlavi came into being. In this way everyone prayed in Avesta which was considered sacred, although it was not understood, and they read books written in Pahlavi, the current language in order to gain an insight into those religious teachings and commandments.
"It is a known fact that even those who feel it obligatory to pray in the language in which the prayer has been composed, believing it to be supernatural, at the conclusion of that prayer pour out their heart's secrets to the Creator. Besides, in moments of personal stress and strain, man naturally turns to his Maker, seeking His succour and His strength and pleading for forgiveness and forbearance. All this natural, spontaneous and intimate conversation between man and his Maker can be carried on only through the medium of a language in which he thinks and speaks and performs his daily deeds. It has been so since the world began and it is so even today. Even those who faithfully believe that prayer recited in the Avesta alone is acceptable to God and all other prayer is futile, in their day-to-day living, whenever their hearts are bursting with emotion, their devotion and their gratitude spring forth in Gujarati. And again, after the standard Avesta prayer has been completed, benedictions, appreciations and requisitions are expressed in Gujarati. Man has this innate hunger of the soul and therefore it is impossible even to conceive that a nation that knew how to read and write and speak in Pahlavi was void of this longing. During the Sasanian dynasty, and even for a while after its downfall many such prayers have been composed in the language of the nation and we have inherited them.
"The language of such prayer is known as Pazand. We have seen that an alien Semitic element had found its way into the Pahlavi language. [319] When Pahlavi that is an admixture of Aryan and Semitic languages, is passed through a sieve and the Semitic words sorted out, the remaining Iranian portion of it is this purified Pahlavi or Pazand language. The prefaces to the Niyayeshes and Yashts, the Doova-Nam Setayashni, Patet, Tandarosti, Afrins, the marriage benediction, the Dhupnirang, prayers recited at an Uthamna ceremony etc. are composed in this language. Even after the empire passed out of Zoroastrian hands, this continued. For example, in the Pazand introductory passage to the Khorshed Niyayesh, certain sentences in Arabic have crept in. In fact the faith that Avesta is a supernatural and celestial language not having wavered, these Pazand prayers have not replaced Avesta, but they were prayed as a complement and a completion of the latter and that practice continues to the present day. These new prayers composed in Pazand which was born a thousand years after the prayers composed in Avesta which was considered to be an extraordinary language, are the second phase of Zoroastrian religious literature.
"The life of languages like the lives of men is either long or short. Some enjoy longevity, others are short-lived. Pahlavi was born during the Parthian period, then it was used for four hundred years during the Sasanian dynasty as the state language in the palaces of kings and at court and even after the kingdom was lost it definitely lived for at least three centuries. Pahlavi-Pazand lived for almost one thousand years, which is not a short span. It did not win the honour of being considered spiritual as its forerunner, but it did reach the realms of royalty and was fortunate to live a life of glory and renown. In its Pazand form it found a place beside Avesta prayers, and it also played a part in the religious literature of Mani, the prophet of the non-Zoroastrians of Sasanian Iran. But in this temporal world, the appointed task of [320] Pahlavi-Pazand was over and it passed away to find its niche amongst the dead languages of the world, leaving behind an offspring called Persian.
"As time passed, Persian became the current language, the state language and the language of literature. Translations of Zoroastrian scriptures and articles on various subjects were written in this sweet language. Since Pazand and Persian were very alike it was not deemed necessary to replace the Afrins etc., which were composed in Pazand with Persian translations. But in later ages a fair amount of devotional literature was published in that language. These consist of the Niyayeshes and the Monajats. As was the practice of praying in the current Pazand tongue after the recital of Avesta prayers, it has become a custom to pray in current Persian after the recital of Avesta and Pazand prayers. This custom is prevalent even today to a certain extent.
"From the beginning of the last century, the youth of the community began to study English literature. Many years of the students were spent in acquiring this knowledge. This was the first time that Zoroastrian youths were availing of such high and wide education and spending fifteen or seventeen years of their lives in its pursuit. The new age of religious and social movements had set in, first in the Province of Bengal and later in Bombay. In the middle of the nineteenth century our community too came un