By SHIRIN MAZDEYASNA, 7/31/2016. After two days of harsh showers and rain in New Delhi, I got access to wifi again and here is my delayed post.
One of my favorite things about moving to New York was the cold winters. Although where I grew up in Iran, Tehran, we had four seasons and cold winters with snow, the temperature never went below twenty fahrenheits. Indeed it was and still is fascinating for my body to experience the temperatures below 0 fahrenheit in New York City. Similarly, last summer in Guangzhou and currently in New Delhi, experiencing the humidity up to 112 fahrenheit is very interesting. Sweating changes its basic meaning and becomes as a process of water flowing from the surface of your skin, all around your body.
During my stay in New Delhi, I’ve explored the city and its different neighborhood through walking around and using the subway, mostly the Yellow Line (north-south bound). As I mentioned in the previous post, India is a left-hand traffic country, and remembering it is crucial in walking in the streets and passing the intersections. Most sidewalks are not usable, so you have to decide which side to walk next to the cars and traffic. The same left-hand rule applies for pedestrians, meaning people walk on their left, which is the exact opposite of what I’m used to. It might not seem like a big deal, but it is essential for smooth transition among the busy streets of Old Delhi where the pedestrians, Auto-Rickshaws, and bikers all flow in the middle of the narrow streets.
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RT-1IydP2x4&w=560&h=315]
Walking around the city has been very helpful for me. You can never know how the neighborhood looks like from the map until you actually go there. You could be in an institutional neighborhood and two minutes later, by a highway that hosts a vast majority of homeless people residing on the sides. I also thought it’s interesting that only in East central of Delhi I spotted cows and monkeys in the streets, whereas the rest of the city is filled with dogs at every corner.
After visiting Raj Ghat, a memorial to Mahatma Gandhi, I walked to Parsi Fire Temple in New Delhi. Need to mention that Raj Ghat is located at a very big and green park, with several lakes and beautiful sceneries of greenery. One of my favorite things about New Delhi is that you could be walking in the busy and crowded streets for a minute and the next minute you could get immersed completely by nature and fantastic variety of trees and flowers.
Back to the Parsi Fire Temple, I had been very excited for this visit, myself being a zoroastrian from Iran. However, my grandmother had warned me that chances are that they wouldn’t let me in the temple, for I need hard evidence of my religion to be able to visit inside the temple. In Iran, we don’t get religion identification cards as you don’t get questioned when entering a temple. Since we have a handful of temples across the country and you are normally recognized in the city and community you live in due to the small size of our population, no one questions you when entering a temple or a religious ceremony. If visitors from other religions, mainly Muslims enter our community, as long as they treat the sacred space and rituals with respect, they are allowed. There are so many ironic points of restriction, religion, and one’s sense of belonging to a community and country both for zoroastrians in Iran and the Parsis in India.
On the other hand for India, when Islam conquered the ancient Persia around 7th century, the residents were given the option to either convert to Islam or leave the country. As the majority converted to Islam, a group of people stayed and bore the hardships (Iran’s Zoroastrians and people like my heritage who were and still are a minority), and a group of them decided to flee to the Indian Subcontinent. The story goes that upon arrival, the king of Gujarat refused to take them in and presented the group with a filled cup of milk, cueing that India already is overflowing with its own population. The king of the Zoroastrians replied back by adding a spoon of sugar to the cup of milk, meaning not only they will not make the cup overflow, but add up to the Hindu communities. Their asylum was accepted upon not converting any Hindus or locals to Zoroastrianism, as well as not mixing into the existing population. Keeping their promise, I can relate to the Parsi community here being so closed and unwelcoming. When I entered the Parsi community here in New Delhi, which consisted of a temple and a guest house, immediately the security came up to me and asked me to leave. Upon explaining that I’m a Zoroastrian and want to visit the temple, he took me to the Parsi Anjuman office inside the guest house. The woman again immediately told me that I can’t visit the temple, and after hearing my answer, she asked for proof. I showed her my photo ID and since my last name is Mazdeyasna, which is another term for Zoroastrianism, I was very confidence that I can visit the temple. The woman called her husband and he instantly shut down my hopes and strictly asked for a identification proof that matches my passport and that the local police can approve. I left feeling very disaffected and downcast and wondered about the relation between Parsis’ strict rules and not opening up to others and their vanishing population.
I was having dinner at a south Indian restaurant in Connaught Place later that day and met someone from Mumbai who informed me that since there is a bigger and more diverse Parsi community in Mumbai, they are more open to other people and religions. Comparing my experience at the Fire Temple to the Bahá’í House of Worship, Lotus Temple, they warmly embrace all religions and races and open the temple to all who intend to pray and meditate.
