Skip to main content

LIFE IN A PARSI COLONY

LIFE IN A PARSI COLONY

Forget 'Life in a Metro'. 'Life in a Parsi Colony' should be made into a movie!

In Mumbai, you will unarguably find the largest concentration of Parsis in the community's many 'baugs', or exclusive residential areas where despite the illusionary calm there is, very often, simmering strife, racy rumours are perennially rife, and there is many a shrieking wife…

Parsi women of a certain vintage are blessed with a booming voice box that often entertains an entire block with its blasting blah-blah, and it is not unusual for family quibbles and complaints to be broadcast aloud - not so much by design as by default because, 'dikra', what do you do when manic 'mumma' loses volume control?

Then, in the 'baugs', you also have any number of aunties in their nightgowns, regally rechristened as 'gowns', and worn throughout the day, often even on errands in and around the baug, expanding their ample lungs and expending admirable vocal energy not just within their homes but beyond as well. It is not unusual to see them standing at their windows, which, incidentally, in the 'baugs', is a revered tradition, engaging in loud words with one another ("kem chey, soo karech, aaje su randhiyu" - a sort of standard polite talk that centres around what each one is doing/cooking), as well as hollering at sundry hawkers and summoning them at their beckoning.

The hawkers who populate the Parsi 'baugs' make for an interesting exhibit in themselves - and should Madame Tussaud's ever decide to cast them in wax, they would be infinitely more interesting than Shah Rukh Khan in a 'Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge' jacket or Amitabh Bachchan in his latest toupee.

Parsi colonies are home to some really eccentric and exotic types, and we don't just mean the folk who live there but those humble minions who bring them their daily sustenance right to their doorstep.

The 'baugs' have a great network of hawkers of all hue, right from the early morning milkman (in the days before the Parsi Dairy Farm family fallout and lockout, their 'bhaiyyas' in blue were a hallmark). Then, there is the ubiquitous 'pauwalla' or bread man, who brings warm bakery 'paus' in a wooden trunk strapped on to a cycle, and goes from flat to flat slicing up one little round mound after another, based on personal preference: thick slice, thin slice, 'karak pau', 'naram pau'. Parsis love their 'pau', and seldom eat the more wholesome/wholegrain 'chappati'. The 'pauwalla' is, hence, not just a very welcome visitor but almost an extension of the family, winding up as he does on the doorstep every day, sometimes morning and evening, and although generally from Uttar Pradesh or Bihar, like the 'doodhwalla', he invariably speaks perfect 'Parsi Gujarati', perhaps even down to all the colloquial cusswords if you cared to find out. Once a year, he unfailingly disappears on an extended visit to his hometown in some interior hinterland, leaving behind a nephew, who, rather quickly, becomes as familiar with the families he helps feed.

The Parsis may not be many things, but they are a friendly lot who almost immediately and instantly appropriate virtually every stranger as "aapro" something-or-the-other - and this is a particularly baug thing. So there's "aapro doodhwallo", "aapro pauwallo" "aapro goswallo"…

Ah! The goswallo is, perhaps, the most wanted of them all. For a true-blue Parsi non-vegetarianism is a virtue that cannot be eschewed, and, indeed, must be diligently chewed (bones and all) meal upon meal. So the meat and fish vendors are pounced upon by hasty housewives keen to complete their culinary chores.

Not surprisingly, then, in most 'baugs' the smells that assail you upon arrival will be overpoweringly fishy and fleshy, especially in the forenoon, as kitchens emanate the odours of fish, fowl or four-legged beast being basted and broiled.

With younger wives working and having no time to cook, the 'dabbawallas' come in handy. Or, else, there's RTI that sends in the tiffin, with its printed menus circulated at the start of every month.

Other than food, fun is on most people's minds. Friendly football/volleyball/throwball matches are routinely played, as are tricks of all kinds - generally in good humour, although not always so!

Life in the 'baugs' is not entirely without controversy and cacophony. But, overall, it's a blessed existence. Where else in Mumbai will you get airy environs enhanced by the genteel grace that the Parsi colonies emanate, and for many non-Parsis these are much-envied havens of solitude and seclusion. For most Parsis they are a way of life, as, for the better part, no matter where they roam, at the end of the day, one or another 'baug' is invariably home.

BAUG STEREOTYPES

* The 'Maijees'

They wear 'gowns' (nightgowns) through the day, both in and out of the house, sometimes changing them as often as three times before finally going to sleep in them. They virtually live their lives on their windowsills, vicariously watching what goes on, with whom, where, and what-have-you!

* The 'Bawajis'

They wear their 'lehgas' (loose and flapping above the ankles), with their 'sudreh-kusti' on top, and if someone arrives at the door, or they need to step out, a hasty shirt is slipped on. They generally took voluntary retirement eons ago and take an avid interest in world affairs, such as oomphy Hollywood actresses (old and new) and female tennis stars (Maria Sharapova, Anna Kournikova, but with the exception of Martina Navratilova!).

* The 'Cutlets'

They range in age from 16 to 60 and generally ride aimlessly on motorbikes around the baugs. They check out women all the time, greet each other affectionately with a volley of abuses, and are about as bright as dead meat. Hence, the nickname: "Cutlets"'!

* The 'Fatakrees'

Parsi colony girls are, by and large, comely and rather coveted. Making the most of their slinky youth, they strut around in strappy tops, too-tight jeans and preen over their own peaches-and-cream perfection. These fetching firecrackers ('Fatakrees') sizzle briefly (till they catch the eye of some 'Cutlet' and coyly become his side-dish), after which they fizzle into oblivion and their grandmothers' nightgowns.

The 'Chuckoos'

Every 'baug' has a few over-smart sorts who manage to make it big, or, at any rate, pretend that they have. They flaunt, flash and fling in everyone's face the symbols of their come-too-quick success. From their swollen-headed swagger to their several cars that mess up everybody else's parking space, to the lavish money-burning 'navjote' ceremonies of their children, these showoffs ('Chuckoos') reinvent one-upmanship all the time.

Comments

Unknown said…
nice post
Anonymous said…
Tanaz, ran into your blog while browsing for some stuff on Google. It was very interesting read and for a while took me back to my days in a Parsi Colony back in good ol Bombay.
Excellent work. Keep it up.
Anonymous said…
good work!!!! it was very true... Now i r'ber my back old days in India it was fun definately.. n no where what ne one says, that life I swear u njoy it.....
Anonymous said…
Hilarious and very true!! I especially like the description of the baug stereotypes.
Mystic said…
heheehe loved the post!!
it so relates to one of mine!! http://www.chanchal.me/2008/08/chaiya-hame-bawaji.html
Unknown said…
Tanaz,
Your blog reminds me of grade school days in Bombay, I had a school friend who lived in Kusroo Bagh, Parsi Colony, Mumbai, I grew up in Colaba and went to Xavier. Most of my time was spent in Kusroo Bagh. Life went on a tailspin suddently when I finally got back on my feet I was ashamed to contact my friend in Kusroo Bag. I wonder what he is upto, I would like to have some pictures if you could post them here.

Ahmad
Unknown said…
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said…
hey Tanaz are u from the Parsi Colony at andheri West near the fly over??

Regards
Nash
kitchens London said…
Good a different point of view.Will the harassed husbands please speak up.Marriage has become a life sentence for some husbands due to these laws.The tyranny of our traditions is another impediment to a happy life.
carreleur said…
its really nice post thanks for sharing... its really helpful to me thanks a lot.. :)
Anonymous said…
Tanaz , why do parsi population is declining ?
Do post something on this as well.

Besides , this post was fun to read ....and too weird to imagine !!
lol

-K
Anonymous said…
I loved your blog :) (Y) (Y)
Loved your blog...was looking for room in parsi colony , came across this and instantly fell in love with Parsis..
Loved your blog...was looking for room in parsi colony , came across this and instantly fell in love with Parsis..
Great blog you have heere

Popular posts from this blog

BSc IT

So finally even the last semester got over !!! wht can i say three years of full fun n masti all over!! but one gud thing we hav the best memories ever and even when i rite some of them here i am sure each one has a new tale to tell u each one has his own view and may be i may nt remm and put down all wht i feel as i am sure there is much more than jus the things i rite so lets nt waste time and let me begin coll starts i am yet nt sure wht to do enng or bsc . going to coll meeting new ppl having fun first person i talked to was kavita then we start regular coll everyday some new faces everyday some friends leaving n going still enjoying we meet our seniors they hav kept a freshers party for us plead us to come we as freshers r scared so reluctant didnt know wht fun we missing jus a few ppl of abt 15 said yes party was arranged , i had nt been there but i still remm tht day when party was arranged we had no lecs so all of us started to play dum sharas in class nt jus 4-5 but a lot of 2

Why read the Khordeh Avesta when we cannot understand it????

A common question from our youngsters today....... Why do we read the Khordeh Avesta even though we don't understand anything?This is beautiful story - if inspired please forward, else keep it .......can'tsay when it might inspire you! An old Priest lived on a farm in the mountains with his young grandson.Each morning Grandpa was up early sitting at the kitchen table readinghis Khordeh Avesta. His grandson wanted to be just like him and tried to imitate him in every way he could.One day the grandson asked, 'Grandpa! I try to read the Khordeh Avesta just like you but I don't understand it, and what I do understand I forget assoon as I close the book. What good does reading the Khordeh Avesta do?' The Grandfather quietly turned from putting coal in the stove and replied, 'Take this coal basket down to the river and bring me back abasket of water.'The boy did as he was told, but all the water leaked out before he got back to the house. The grandfather laughed a

Hilarious Parsi Surnames

WHAT DO YOU CALL A PARSEE....? Bootlegger? ..... Daruwalla Who is dumb? .... Mooga Those who believe they are Civil Servants? .... Sarkari Who sells branded booze? .... Jinwalla Who is into Astrology? .... Tara Chand \ The best person to repair machines? ... ENGINEER. Who tinkers with a short fuse? .... Tester Who doesn't like rice? .... Naanwalla Those don't like being called Parsis? ... Malloo Who think they are cattle owners? ... Bhes sania A Patriotic Indian Parsi? .... Gandhi One who likes to scare kids' everyday? .... De boo (The Boo) Who is brave? .... Bahadur A religious Parsi? ... Dastur Who believe they are the custodians of Agiyaris? .... Kathiwalla Those that want to be Grocers? .... Kaandawalla A watch repairer? .... Ghadialy Who has a chance at the Guinness Book of World Records? .... SodaWaterBottleOpenerwalla. Who Lives in a castle? .... Killawala A parsi chauffeur? ....