You have to feel sorry for vultures. For animal campaigners they are a difficult case. Other, more photogenic, slightly less sinister creatures may gain the world’s sympathy at the drop of a hat, but raising money to save the world’s most proficient scavenger is a different matter.
As far as the Asian vulture is concerned, however, the situation is now urgent. Asian vultures may be ugly, but soon, if current trends continue, their unprepossessing appearance will be consigned to history.
The route from Churchgate to Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus is sprinkled with memorials to sentinels of Mumbai history. Only, nobody cares
Sipping my masala chai one morning, I suddenly realized that the Khada Parsi statue, literally the Standing Parsi standing not far from where I live, had a name: Shet Cursetjee Manockjee, whose statue had been erected in his memory in the 1860s.
A newspaper report said a group of Parsis were hoping to have the iconic statue, after a thorough scrub-down and a restoration, to a new location—Parsi Colony, Five Gardens. Wedged at the point where the Byculla flyover splits to go in two directions, the statue was one among several public monuments to historical figures who feature prominently in the city’s history, the report said.
That’s where my dusty journey began, to find the other sentinels of our streets, and to see if they were faring better than my Khada Parsi.
“We tend to hurry up erecting statues in the memory of great personalities but end up demeaning them by our negligence,” says writer and city historian Sharada Dwivedi, also a member of the heritage committee.
BY Rakshande Italia
If I cherished one special day during the year, besides my birthday, it was the New Year - not Jan. 1, but a day in August when members of my tiny Zoroastrian community in Mumbai, India, celebrated the beginning of their calendar year.
Colloquially referred as Parsi New Year, the day was extra-special as community members, the Parsis, party all day long. One prime reason that this day was special is that unlike the scores of Hindu festivals, which are an all-year-round affair, our community celebrates only two others in the year. Navroze, a celebration of spring equinox, and Khodadsal, the birthday of our prophet Zarathusthtra.
You see, our forefathers landed in India in the eighth century after fleeing the Arab invasion in Persia, refusing to leave their Zoroastrian religion, which is said to be one of the world’s oldest monotheistic religions, founded around 1200 B.C.
Today, there are only 150,000 Zoroastrians left worldwide. While India houses the largest population - 65,000 - the Greater Toronto Area comes in second with 6,000. Toronto is unique because Zoroastrians from India, Pakistan and Iran come together here, sharing the same religion even as they have different customs, cultures and languages.
On Aug. 20, Toronto’s Zoroastrians will celebrate the new year, congregating in two community centres in the GTA - one at Bayview and Steeles avenues and another in Oakville. The evening starts with a Jashan, a prayer ceremony, ending late but only after a sumptuous meal and loads of entertainment.
In India, the community doesn’t congregate together as it does here, but there’s a set pattern to the celebration.
IN 1865, Jamsetji Nusserwanji Tata - a one-time opium trader and scion of a sparkling line of Parsee priests, Zoroastrians who had fled to western India from persecution in Iran - attended a lecture in Manchester given by Thomas Carlyle.
Carlyle, a cantankerous Scot, was known for his historical and philosophical essays, but he also put his mind to the budding field of political economy.
“The nation which has the steel will have the gold,” Carlyle told the lecture hall, and burnt a deep impression on the visiting Indian merchant.
Jamsetji Tata took Carlyle’s idea and, after opening up textile mills, he in time emerged as India’s mightiest industrialist.
Today, the company he founded is a goliath. Tata Group is the world’s fifth largest steelmaker and sees itself as a symbol of the re-emergence of the Indian economy.
Continue reading the entire article here
As the sun is about to set, a group of pale tall men in spotless white can be found on the beach, the sacred Zorastrian belt knotted around their waists. They stand at the edge, bend down and immerse both their hands into the water, which they then raise to their forehead, touching it briefly. Thereafter, they untie their sacred belts which they lift briefly to their brows, only to retie them. Then they turn their faces towards the setting sun and utter just three words: Humata, Hakhata, Havershta.
These three words belong to a four thousand year old language. When the sun finally sinks into the sea and its last rays disappear from the horizon, these pale faced men in white gowns turn towards the east three times, three times towards the south and three times towards the west. This they follow by dipping their hands in the sea again, touching their foreheads as they recite sacred texts under their breath. After the completion of the ritual, they disappear into the streets of the throbbing city, which is Bombay.
By Bachi Karkaria
As an Indian Parsi Zoroastrian, I’m proud to belong to a tiny minority widely admired for its material success and its philanthropy.
But I feel a closing sense of siege. The vicissitudes of modern life are threatening our group’s ethnic identity and ancient ways.
The vulture, our main accomplice in death for nearly 4,000 years, excites a largely morbid curiosity about our sect. Parsis are descended from Zoroastrians who, 1,200 years ago, fled religious persecution in Persia after the Muslim conquest and emigrated to the Indian subcontinent. Zoroastrianism reveres all elements, especially fire, so we don’t cremate our dead, or pollute the earth with burial.
Many young boys being trained as priests will instead follow other careers
Like most 12-year-old boys, Rayan Dastoor watches movies, goes to school and surfs the Internet for the latest tunes by Linkin Park. But Rayan also spends five hours a day in prayer sessions and religious studies. His homework includes memorizing sacred scriptures in the ancient Persian language.
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Sheherazad Pavri, 12, is the youngest ordained priest at the Dadar School. He plans to become an accountant. |
Rayan is one of 30 boys enrolled in Dadar Athornan Madressa, a boarding school for future Zoroastrian priests. The school, in Mumbai, India, is one of only two worldwide. Graduates, known as “mobeds,” or priests, serve Zoroastrian communities from Atlanta to Pakistan.
By age 14, when Rayan and his classmates are ordained as priests, they will face declining congregations and an uncertain future. Zoroastrianism, a monotheistic faith thousands of years older than Islam or Christianity, was once the dominant religion across west Asia. But with interfaith marriages on the rise and orthodox priests unwilling to allow conversions to the faith, Zoroastrians have dwindled to 200,000 worldwide.
Nearly 25,000 live in North America, scattered from Toronto to Los Angeles. Most are Parsis, descendants of Zoroastrians who fled persecution in Iran and landed on the shores of India 1,000 years ago. Following the three tenets of their religion — good thoughts, good words and good deeds — the few thousand faithful rebuilt what was left of their ancient traditions.
After arriving in India, Parsis began training their priests at a young age, according to Kersey Antia, a mobed in Chicago. Having lost their traditions under Arab and Greek rulers, rote memorization of the few remaining texts was “all we had to offer our priests,” Antia said.
by Farrukh Dhondy
I can’t remember which teacher it was who ventured to tell us about the Battle of Thermopylae all those years ago. Three hundred Spartans held the pass at the aforesaid place against the invading hordes of the Persian Emperor Xerxes. The 300 of the title faced a million Persians. Our class was told that this was one of the episodes of history in which the valiant — who shall taste of death but once — fought against the cowardly, deceitful, callous weight of Persian numbers and I cheered for the Spartans.
All over the world the populations of countries such as India, outside the ambit of Western power, go to the movies and cheer for the cowboys — until they realise that they are the Indians. The pull of myths that serve the West is stronger than any historical self awareness, unless it is mediated by ideological powers that forbid Western films and control the minds of the young — as I imagine happens in Iran or in Al Qaeda training camps.
Microphones, Planes, and Stereotypes: Those behind the Making of ‘300′
By Touraj Daryaee and Warren Soward, California State University, Fullerton
I have been following reactions to the movie ‘300′ and to my article which appeared on Payvand and in the Orange County Register. Of course each of these venues has their own constituency and so reactions have been somewhat different, to say the least. I am still quite disturbed by the intentions of the film. In fact, it is these scholarly pursuits that make me dig a bit deeper, past the slogans and moralistic hyperbolae. I see now that the reason that I reacted to ‘300′ needs some explanation, in order that our friends understand why this is not just a movie.
Yes, Zack Snyder’s ‘300′ is just a movie, based on a graphic novel, a form of comic book, by Frank Miller. But let’s talk about some of the people involved in making the film. Who is Frank Miller? Oh, he writes comic books. Do you accept the premise that one’s political ideology and worldview affects her or his creative work? If you say no, there is no need for you to read another word of this article and please either get an education or just head to the beach. Otherwise, if you feel that intent might be important, let’s see how Mr. Miller, Mr. Snyder, and their consultants see the world and the “others,” i.e., the people of the Middle East.
Excerpt from a longer article here
Mary Boyce, Emeritus Professor of Iranian Studies at the University of London, has confirmed the external validity of Bat Ye’or’s analytical approach in her description of how jihad and dhimmitude (without the latter being specifically identified as such) transformed Zoroastrian society in an analogous manner. Boyce has written definitive assessments of those Zoroastrian communities which survived the devastating jihad conquests of the mid 7th through early 8th centuries 20. The Zoroastrians experienced an ongoing, inexorable decline over the next millennium due to constant sociopolitical and economic pressures exerted by their Muslim rulers, and neighbor. Boyce describes these complementary phenomena based on an historical analysis, and her personal observations living in the (central Iranian) Yezd area during the 1960s:
“Either a few Moslems settled on the outskirts of a Zoroastrian village, or one or two Zoroastrian families adopted Islam. Once the dominant faith had made a breach, it pressed in remorselessly, like a rising tide. More Moslems came, and soon a small mosque was built, which attracted yet others. As long as Zoroastrians remained in the majority, their lives were tolerable; but once the Moslems became the more numerous, a petty but pervasive harassment was apt to develop. This was partly verbal, with taunts about fire-worship, and comments on how few Zoroastrians there were in the world, and how many Moslems, who must therefore posses the truth; and also on how many material advantages lay with Islam. The harassment was often also physical; boys fought, and gangs of youth waylaid and bullied individual Zoroastrians.
Apropos of absolutely nothing at all, I would like to say that whereas the Parsis laid the foundation of Mumbai and gave it some of its most beautiful buildings and colonies, the Gujaratis gave us thalipith, watana shak, methi dhokla and thepla — and frankly I do not know which is the greater contribution.
Apropos of absolutely nothing at all, I would like to say that now that Urmilla Matondkar’s posters are all over town, modelling for a shop called Millionairess, it means her leading lady roles are well and truly over.
Apropos of absolutely nothing at all, I would like to say that no places of worship, not even churches, emanate such a sense of serenity and quietude the way Parsi Fire Temples do.
It’s been said that the movie “300″ draws certain analogies about the US and its fight for freedom. People say that the Spartan’s fight with the Persian armies is a lot like the American struggle against the government of Iran, and the fight to bring democracy to a tyrannical state. While this writer would have to agree that there are lots of analogies to be drawn from the story, they are very different from the ones currently being proposed.
Every thinking person knows that there really isn’t a separation of church from state. Religious beliefs naturally shape opinions and become ideas that eventuate in action - no one is immune. Look at our present political situation with the US Republicans exerting overwhelming pressure on the government and shaping its policy based on their religious beliefs. Will people living a thousand years from now know that the foreign policy of the most powerful nation on earth was formed by biblical prophecies? Or will they only study the political meanderings of a growing empire?
Mehlli Bhagalia and his wife, Perin, tend a small flame in their home in Carlsbad. Bhagalia said the flame, safe in the fireplace, has been consecrated by the couple’s prayers and is only extinguished when the couple go away. Just as the cross and the star of David are symbols of Christianity and Judaism, the fire is a symbol of divine light or wisdom for those of the Zoroastrian religion.
“In India there are consecrated fires that have been burning for over 1,300 years,” said Bhagalia, who prays before the sacred flame or the sun several times each day and wears a special prayer girdle of wool called a kusti.
This article appeared in the Boston Globe. I cannot seem to find the online direct link. However, read on…
As screaming children raced around the hall in joyous play, adult workers readied food in the kitchen, while others set up chairs and tables. The holiday dinner of the Zoroastrian Association of the Greater Boston Area, held in a borrowed church basement in Arlington last month, mingled fellowship and family.
A new year naturally turns the mind to the future, especially for those looking back on a long and storied past, and Zoroastrians are peering at a horizon that they may never reach. A practice of not accepting converts has helped whittle the ranks of this ancient religion to fewer than 200,000 worldwide. Assimilation further robs the community of its distinctiveness, a fact in plain view at the dinner, where partygoers whose faith predated Jesus by a millennium nonetheless decorated an artificial Christmas tree.
“Both my boys are married outside [to] non-Zoroastrians,” said Sarosh Sukhia , a Pakistan-born Virginian who attended the party during a family visit to Boston. “They’ll keep an adherence to the name, and I’ll try to teach them the prayers.”
Parsis have a certain love affair with their two wheelers, which only they can fathom. They’ll proudly spend hours lovingly washing and polishing their prized possessions and God help you if you mistakenly crash into them. Rustom Patel is no different. The 28-year-old, eight times National Champion is just back from Taiwan, where he stood third in the ‘Scoolympic CTMSA Taiwan’ 06′, becoming the first Indian to do so. With more than 275 trophies lying proudly in his house, Rustom is no stranger to the world of bike racing. A resident of Rustam Baug, Byculla,Rustom started out when he was only six; today he’s one of the best bikers in India.
The below posted article is something that we completely detest. People with no intellectual prowess to actually research and educate the readers are now columnists in newspapers.
The only reason we carry this article is because we want the world to know how wrong the article is. Please read it with a pinch of salt and if you also disagree as I do, write to the columnist at ninpa2003@yahoo.com and give him a piece of your mind.
Some Christmas ‘magi’ may have done a disappearing act
By Nin Privitera OBSERVER Community Columnist
12/10/2006 - It’s that wonderful time of the year again when many of us celebrate the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. In case you had forgotten, that is the origin of the holiday, not the birthday of Sam Walton.
At least, that’s what Christmas used to be about before retail gross sales from Wal-Mart superceded the divine birth of the Son of Man; the one who changed time, space, and eternity.
One of the more intriguing legends surrounding the birth of Jesus was the story of the mysterious visitors from the east. Matthew 2:1 simply states that they were magi. Other sources suggests that they were Three Kings. Some believe they were wisemen, which is a difficult concept for us to grasp, being that we are daily witnesses to the vaudeville act that poses for Washington politics today.
Whomever these visitors were, their gifts to the Christ child initiated the tradition that we carry on to this day. Without their bearing gifts to the newborn, who knows how Uncle Bob would ever have the opportunity to fake the thrill of receiving a new tie. ‘‘Ooh, now that’s a smart looking piece of neckwear. You know, I don’t think I have a charging Buffalo Bill smashing into Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs tie.’’
Members of Parsi community fear that the sanctity and ambience of the Kappawala agiary in Tardeo may soon be lost. Reason: An age-old structure in its compound that is the house to the priest of the agiary, four tenants and a lessee may be soon converted into a multi storey building.
“According to our high priests, agiary lands are not meant for housing nor can they be used by the community for generating funds,” said Anahita Desai of the World Alliance of Parsi Irani Zarthoshtis (WAPIZ), a body formed with an aim to protect and preserve the identity and ethnicity of Parsis. WAPIZ has also spearheaded a signature campaign as a protest against the redevelopment of the annexe and has collected more than 400 signatures.
“The ex-trustees of the agiary allowed building one level Kappawala annexe to house the priest when the agiary was built in 1941. Later in 1963 they further allowed one of the community members to construct a first floor, which was given on land lease to the lessee. All this happened due to the builder trustee nexus that time and nobody ever protested but now we would not allow any further redevelopment,” added Desai.
Sweet Dadi, younger brother of Behram is here, all the way from the South of France, St Rapheal, where he now lives
It’s not often that I have house guests. And rarely if ever as welcome as the one I have right now. Sweet Dadi, younger brother of Behram is here, all the way from the South of France, St Rapheal, where he now lives. It’s only his second visit in 40 years, the last being 12 years ago and neither his ‘to do’ list nor he, have changed much. Except that his hair is much longer now, curling over the nape of his neck, like a Victorian monarch. That’s because his wife Monique likes it so, “tres chic, ne c’est pas?”
Dadi has already done his rounds, walked around Fort, Colaba Causeway, Bori Bunder. He walked into the Town Hall Library to read the papers, and after that into the St Thomas Cathedral at Horniman Circle to cool off under the fan. He has eaten his Thali at the Welcome Hindu Hotel (”not very thiku”), visited the old family apartment - where some other people now live, at Rustom Baug. He was happy to go for a Parsi wedding and enjoyed the Lagan-nu-bhonu, exclaiming with glee, “Ah, ma Rotli”, as the bearer half chucked it onto his patra and speeded away. Some things don’t change. And we don’t want them too, either. We all miss the soap and water jug ritual to clean our fingers after some saas-ni- machhi, as it is!
By Nauzer Bharucha
MUMBAI: Parsis may be one of the most literate and progressive communities in the country. But for the past 350 years, a vast majority of them in Mumbai had no stake in appointing trustees to the powerful apex body–the Bombay Parsi Punchayat (BPP)–that has a corpus of Rs 85 crore, controls 4,500 community flats and holds land in the city worth tens of thousands of crores including the sprawling Towers of Silence property at Malabar Hill.
Now for the first time in nearly 100 years, in a path-breaking move, the Punchayat has moved the Bombay high court, seeking to introduce universal adult franchise, where every community member over 21 years will have the right to cast his vote to appoint a trustee.
Over the past couple of decades, community activists have protested that the BPP has become a small club of elitist and influential people who manage to win elections by influencing just about 2,000 eligible voters. Currently, a Parsi can become a voter only if he donates Rs 25,000 to the Punchayat or gets elected through an electoral college.
[received via email. Author Unknown]
It lies in many things …. It’s like belonging to an exclusive Club worldwide. Birth, the only credential and consideration; nothing, but nothing else works, no sirree ! No waiting lists, no entrance fees, no other eligibilities !
A minuscule community, incurably diasporic, but which nonetheless has woven its way into virtually every corner of the world.
A cousin of mine has a job that entails considerable travel. On one of his trips, he met another well-travelled professional, an American who, on learning my cousin was a Parsee commented, “I can’t believe Parsees are so few in number, worldwide ! … wherever I go in the world, I meet a Parsee !”
Once in Sydney, travelling by bus to the Opera House, I met two elderly ladies who inquired where I was from. “From India,” I responded. “Oh! Are you a Parsee?” pat came the counter query. On noticing my astonished look, the lady explained that she had come to know a few Parsees, from India, in Sydney, and hence the inspired guesswork. But of course, these stray anecdotes can be misleading.
It’s one of the world’s oldest religions, but Zoroastrianism is treated with suspicion by Iran’s Islamic state, writes Robert Tait
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The village of Chak Chak consists of a shrine perched beneath a towering cliff face. Photograph: Robert Tait. |
The boisterous scenes of wine, unveiled women and song confounded the popular stereotype of religious worship in contemporary Iran. In an isolated and awe-inspiring mountain setting, followers of an ancient faith were communing with God in festive and time-honoured fashion.
But when the government VIPs arrived, normal order - as defined by the country’s stringent Islamic laws - was restored. The merriment ended, women were ordered to cover up - and grumbles of discontent (albeit muted and discreet) began.
“This is the only time during the year when we are allowed to do what we want, but even here they don’t leave us alone,” said Giti, 55, reluctantly putting on her headscarf.
She was one of thousands of Zoroastrians gathered at Chak Chak in the central Iranian desert for a five-day pilgrimage that is the biggest annual event in the religion’s calendar.
Isn’t it strange how Rs.200/= seems like such a large amount when you donate it to a fire-temple, but such a small amount when you go shopping?
Isn’t it strange how 2 hours seem so long when you’re at the fire-temple, and how short they seem when you’re watching a good movie?
Isn’t it strange how difficult and boring it is to read one chapter of the Khordeh Avesta, but how easy it is to read 100 pages of a popular novel?
Isn’t it strange how everyone wants front-row-tickets to concerts or games, but do whatever is possible to arrive late and sit at the last row at a Jashan, Navjote or other religious ceremony ?
Isn’t it strange how we need to know about a religious event for 2-3 weeks before the day so we can include it in our agenda, but we can adjust it for other events in the last minute?
Isn’t it strange how difficult it is to learn a fact about our religion & history, but how easy it is to learn, understand, extend and repeat gossip?
Isn’t it strange how we believe everything that magazines and newspapers say, but we question the words in our Khordeh Avesta or Vendidad ?
Isn’t it strange how we send jokes in e-mails and they are forwarded right away, but when we are going to forward messages like these, we think about it twice before we share it with others?
We received this via an email tip. It makes interesting reading. Author Unknown
When my time has come, when my race is run
I want to go that very way of my Fathers and their Sons.
When my breath has left and life is not around
Don’t extinguish me by the Flame or lock me underground.
Cause I don’t want the earth, and I don’t want the Fire
Take me to the mountain tops where the eagle meets the sky.
Where my soul can breathe, and heave a heavy sigh.
As I prepare to meet my maker and look Him in His eye.
Ruby Lilaowala remembers Muktaad, in the Afternoon D.C.
Muktaad are the ten days preceding the Parsi new year which are devoted to intense prayers and elaborate rituals for the departed souls (Mukt-Atmas). Whenever I visit a fire temple and see the daily offerings of flowers, fruits and sweets (Prasad) my mind rewinds to the kitchen of my childhood, which pulsated with gran’s energy, as she prepared everything herself and chose the freshest fruit for her departed husband whose photograph “lived” along with those of our Prophet in the kitchen corner. She was an iconoclast who refused to pay priests (”who hardly knew my husband” she’d say) to pray for her hubby’s soul. She prayed herself, at times wiping a tear prompted perhaps by a happy memory of her loving marriage.
Memories of scent come to mind - the fragrant burning of sandalwood mingled with the perfume of handpicked jasmine, lilies and roses, plus gran’s lace handkerchief saturated with Yardley’s Lavender wafted across the kitchen, radiating through the house. Having first offered the consecrated goodies to her hubby, she’d then extend her nurturing hand to us in the physical world.
As a child, this was my first experience of the seamless relationship between everyday life and the world beyond where everyone’s ancestors live. This relationship contained the secret of the multifaceted nature of existence and the immense possibilities of transformation like the humble flour’s (atta) metamorphosis from wheat, into sweets for the departed souls. An entire world unfolded in the kitchen as these sweets were strictly rationed out to us to avoid wastage, grounded in the knowledge that food is not merely a commodity to satiate hunger but an essential means of harmonising the body and mind by eating pure (saatvic) fruits, vegetables, dry fruits and grains.
Sepia Mutiny the power house Indian group blog points out to a response by a blogger to the NYTimes article.
Amardeep at Sepia Mutiny writes
Perhaps the reluctance by more conservative Parsis to accept intermarriage has to do with exactly the kind of internalized racial thinking the blogger (who is not a Parsi him/herself) is talking about. Personally, I’m rooting for the Parsis; I hope the faction that favors allowing people who’ve intermarried to remain in the community prevails.
This is in response to Strangeloops who opined
The British sought to cultivate an indigenous elite with a vested interest in the preservation of Empire, and further saw Parsis as more ‘white’ (and ‘Aryan’), and thus culturally closer to Europeans. Indeed, the British often referred to Parsis as the ‘Jews of India’ (a somewhat ironic statement given the rich history of several Indian Jewish communities). All this made the transition to an Independent India an awkward and stilted affair for many (but by no means all) Parsis in Bombay and elsewhere. After all, being friendly with the colonial occupiers isn’t necessarily appreciated by a new nationalist elite.
Follow the discussion at Sepia Mutiny.
Original NY Times article here
A centuries old custom has triggered off a bitter debate within Mumbai’s influential Parsi community.
The Parsi community is now divided over how to dispose off their dead. The bodies are kept in a well for vultures to feed on in a tradition called Dokhmenishin dating back to the 16th century. Under community law, the Towers of Silence are forbidden tOnly Khandiyas, the men who carry the bier, are allowed to enter the Towers - a practice that Baria decided to break after her mother died in November last year. “The pall bearers told me that my mother’s body was still inside, nothing had changed. But that if they spoke about it they would lose their jobs,” says she. Baria’s pictures from inside the towers of silence reveal a shocking story of hundreds of dead bodies lying in a heap decomposing inside the well. “The bodies are lying in a heap, decomposing. These were our people, our loved ones. They ate, drank and laughed with us. How can we tolerate them being robbed of their dignity after their death,” says Baria in her defence. In 1998 the Bombay Parsi panchayat asked the experts from BNHS to find out why the vultures had disappeared, but the experts could not enter the premises as many in the community opposed this.o members of the Parsi community. However, many Parsis are now alleging that the Towers are becoming unhygenic and succumbing to decay.
The vultures, who are supposed to eat the bodies, are in fact disappearing and as a result, dead bodies are rotting for years. Recently, photographs that show the inside of the Towers of Silence have surfaced. These photgraphs - though forbidden - are creating ripples in the small community. The woman who took the pictures, Dhan Baria, a resident of Marzban Parsi colony, says that she is not going to keep quiet about the state of the bodies in the Towers
In his day job, Kersey H. Antia is a psychologist who specializes in panic disorders. In his private life, Mr. Antia dons a long white robe, slips a veil over his face and goes to work as a Zoroastrian priest, performing rituals passed down through a patrilineal chain of priests stretching back to ancient Persia.
After a service for the dead in which priests fed sticks of sandalwood and pinches of frankincense into a blazing urn, Mr. Antia surveyed the Zoroastrian faithful of the Midwest — about 80 people in saris, suits and blue jeans.
“We were once at least 40, 50 million — can you imagine?” said Mr. Antia, senior priest at the fire temple here in suburban Chicago. “At one point we had reached the pinnacle of glory of the Persian Empire and had a beautiful religious philosophy that governed the Persian kings.
“Where are we now? Completely wiped out,” he said. “It pains me to say, in 100 years we won’t have many Zoroastrians.”
There is a palpable panic among Zoroastrians today — not only in the United States, but also around the world — that they are fighting the extinction of their faith, a monotheistic religion that most scholars say is at least 3,000 years old.
Zoroastrianism predates Christianity and Islam, and many historians say it influenced those faiths and cross-fertilized Judaism as well, with its doctrines of one God, a dualistic universe of good and evil and a final day of judgment.
While Zoroastrians once dominated an area stretching from what is now Rome and Greece to India and Russia, their global population has dwindled to 190,000 at most, and perhaps as few as 124,000, according to a survey in 2004 by Fezana Journal, published quarterly by the Federation of Zoroastrian Associations of North America. The number is imprecise because of wildly diverging counts in Iran, once known as Persia — the incubator of the faith.
“Survival has become a community obsession,” said Dina McIntyre, an Indian-American lawyer in Chesapeake, Va., who has written and lectured widely on her religion.
The Zoroastrians’ mobility and adaptability has contributed to their demographic crisis. They assimilate and intermarry, virtually disappearing into their adopted cultures. And since the faith encourages opportunities for women, many Zoroastrian women are working professionals who, like many other professional women, have few children or none.
Despite their shrinking numbers, Zoroastrians — who follow the Prophet Zarathustra (Zoroaster in Greek) — are divided over whether to accept intermarried families and converts and what defines a Zoroastrian. An effort to create a global organizing body fell apart two years ago after some priests accused the organizers of embracing “fake converts” and diluting traditions.
“They feel that the religion is not universal and is ethnic in nature, and that it should be kept within the tribe,” said Jehan Bagli, a retired chemist in Toronto who is a priest, or mobed, and president of the North American Mobed Council, which includes about 100 priests. “This is a tendency that to me sometimes appears suicidal. And they are prepared to make that sacrifice.”
In South Africa, the last Zoroastrian priest recently died, and there is no one left to officiate at ceremonies, said Rohinton Rivetna, a Zoroastrian leader in Chicago who, with his wife, Roshan, was a principal mover behind the failed effort to organize a global body. But they have not given up.
“We have to be working together if we are going to survive,” Mr. Rivetna said.