Parsi fascination

I first came to Bombay when I was 14 or 15. An uncle worked for an antique store inside the Taj, and lived in a rented flat in Bandra. I remember being fascinated by the journalistic offerings of this city: the film magazines, the tabloids, the society glossies. And I remember reading quite a bit about the Parsis: about their contributions to this city, their religious practicies, their history in India...

Thirty years on, I hold the latest Outlook in my hand, and with it comes a supplement called Mumbai City Limits. The lead article is again about the Parsis. We have the lovable wit Cyrus and the pink-looking model Perizaad Zorabian adorning the cover, and the essay inside covers the ground I am familiar with. The Parsis' numbers are said to be dwindling, but they consistently make for good copy, and the journalistic fascination with the community hasn't faded a bit.

I wonder why the newspapers don't carry articles about, say, the Marwadis, the Iyengars, the Sanketis, the Babburkammes. India is full of castes and communities with their own proud lists of achievers, yet magazine editors zero in only on the Parsis.

Is there something in the Parsis that particularly tickles journalistic curiosity? Is it their attire, their death rituals, their insistence on marriage within the community?

Granted, the Parsis have done exceptionally well in business (the Tatas, the Godrejs, and the Wadias hail from this community of Persian immigrants), law (you have the Sorabjees and the Palkhiwalas, almost always described by the media as 'eminent jurists'), but surely, communities such as the Iyengars can boast an equal number of achievers?

Two recent Tamil films, Anniyan and Hey Ram, lavished attention on the Iyengar lifestyle. The biggest Kannada hit in recent years, Mungaru Male, captures some Kodava rituals. But for magazine editors in Mumbai, Parsis remain all-time favourites.