“Thus spake Zarathustra”, my late father would often declare at the dinner table. We looked at one another and asked him just who this person was? His response was: “Always doubt the wisdom you learn. Depend on reason alone.”

As time passed, I used to show off at school by using this short phrase of Nietzsche’s book title. My class-fellow and dear friend Adi Cowasjee recently reminded me of this when I spoke to him over the Parsi population of Lahore. My initial interest in the Parsis of Lahore was because just near our house on Rattigan Road, behind the Central Model School, was the Parsi Temple, known locally as the ‘Parsi Ibadatgah’. There was always a fire burning there and among the priest’s children were Hilla and Behroze, and I mention them because they were my wife’s best friends. That temple is no longer there and the Parsis of Lahore bury their dead instead of leaving them on the Tower of Silence.

The last column I wrote on the Parsis of Lahore many years ago was after I visited their hostel in Gulberg just off M.M. Alam Road. Then only 21 Parsis lived there, though Lahore had almost 34 Parsi families left from a whopping 2,700 in 1947. My friend the late Nosheed Dastoor, who was dealt a raw hand by his colleagues at the Lahore Stock Exchange, showed me around. It was a simple place and the best thing was that he served me ‘Dhansaag’ and the rest of his neighbours joined in. Now the hostel is more than half empty and as the older generation slowly passes away it is possible that Lahore might well be a city with a handful of Parsis … maybe none at all. It is a very sad thought that our city, known always for its diversity, is slowly losing this beautiful colour of its life.

In my college days when I played cricket for Crescent Club in Minto Park, to the West is the Budha (aged) Ravi. Across the old river the Parsi graveyard was a landmark. You cannot see it now. In British days the park was initially named Parade Ground and later got the name Minto Park after Lord Minto, the Governor General of India, between 1807 and 1813. Before the British from Mughal to Sikh days this was called Badami Bagh as it was a huge almond garden. The name now sticks to a nearby truck stand and spare parts market. Not a single almond tree exists in the area. They call it progress. Across the Budha Ravi is where the sole Parsi graveyard exists still. Mind you the original river course curled around the old walled city and the Parsi graveyard of Lahore was across the river. Now it is to the East. Sadly, Lahore no longer has any Tower of Silence and its sole Parsi graveyard has been partially encroached upon and finding it can be a hassle. There is an urgent need to save this very old Parsi graveyard from creeping property ‘developers’.

I remember the priest at Rattigan Road once told me that the most important lesson of Zarathustra was: “Happiness unto him who gives happiness to others.” This got me interested in the subject, especially when I learnt that Zarathustra had spent 10 years of his life alone in a cave just like our Holy Prophet (PBUH) had done. His simple creed professed: Good Thoughts, Good Words, and Good Deeds. That is the way all Parsis are supposed to live. Amazingly, he was the very first to declare that there was only one Almighty.

An earlier column based on my research had located a Sun Temple in ancient Lahore, which was demolished by the Afghan invader Mahmud of Ghazni who, so it is claimed, built a brick mosque in its place. Though the exact location of the temple, and then the brick mosque, remains a mystery, in all probability when another foreign invader Babar razed Lahore to the ground, that small brick mosque was also eliminated from the scene. Loot and piety never go hand in hand.

But let me not digress, delicious that the subject is, and let me concentrate on the Parsis of Lahore. Just 50 years ago Lahore had an array of Parsi families. They were considered among the elite. Let me recollect just a few. On McLeod Road was the Gandhi Wine Shop. The Regal cinema shops facing Temple Road had a French Wine Shop, just as near Globe Cinema in the Lahore cantonment was another. The Parsis virtually had a monopoly on this trade, and their honesty was proverbial. They made sure not a single under-age person was sold this ‘lubricant’. Next to Tollinton Market on The Mall was the Edulji Wine Shop.

In the same tradition Lahore had scores of Parsi doctors, the most famous being Dr Barucha on McLeod Road. On The Mall the famous Parsi Laundry was the finest in the city. In the same tradition at Nila Gumbad was the Parsi Bank, whose signboard was famous in Lahore, which was a woman (not blindfolded) holding up a scale. This was financial justice to be seen. As a famous writer was to say in a column: “Without the Parsis Lahore has lost its brightest jewel.”

But any column worth its salt cannot be complete without mention of two fine Parsis. One of Ardeshir Cowasjee and the other of the Amritsar-born with a slight Lahore up-bringing, Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw. Both lived in separate countries after 1947, and their patriotism just could not be doubted. What got both in trouble was their outspokenness. The Field Marshal upset patriotic Indians when he told a television anchor that the Pakistani soldiers in East Pakistan fought very bravely and deserved to be rewarded for gallantry. He upset Mrs Indira Gandhi when he bluntly told her: “Madam, I do not interfere in your business, so you do not interfere in mine.” Among soldiers he was virtually worshiped.

But our Ardeshir Cowasjee was no less. In the 1965 War he told a BBC TV reporter: “The safest place to hide during an air raid is Lahore Airport, for the Indians are sure to miss.” Once he was invited by the Lahore Gymkhana Club to speak. He sat listening to all the praise and when he got up to deliver his presidential address he started by saying: “Tum sab choor ho, bajri me kam cement dal kar uppar board lagatay ho ‘Mashallah’.” (You are all crooks, you mix less cement in concrete and then put up a board ‘Allah be praised’.)

The elite of the city had packed the club hall. They all stood up in protest. Old man Cowasjee was not one to be scared. He shouted back: “Sharam nahi, abb ankh nikaltey ho” (You are just not ashamed). Then Cowasjee went on and his speech was a sizzler of the truths we just refuse to accept. One line I just cannot forget: “Yay maulvi sab tumhara mal loot lay ga, aur Jinnah ka Pakistan taba kar day ga.”(These mullahs will first empty your pockets and then destroy Jinnah’s Pakistan). Prophetic words. As these honest people dwindle nearing extinction, all we can do is rob them of their graveyard. The Ravi is still not too far yet.

Published in Dawn, March 17th, 2019