Latest news with #Parsiana
Hindustan Times
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
The editor who turned a stodgy journal into a whippersnapper on the end of ‘Parsiana'
MUMBAI: Come October, 'Parsiana' will 'go gentle into that good night'. Unheeding of its legion of admirers who now 'rage, rage against the dying of the light' aka its imminent closure. For 52 years, this doughty community magazine has served the dwindling Indian Parsi population and its spreading diaspora. Mirror, path-guider, trend-tracker, back-patter, call-outer -- and therefore as much hackle-raiser as praise-getter. But as with our qaum, age and ill-health have caught up with its intrepid editor, Jehangir Patel -- and his team too. He rues, 'I'm 80. So is one of our senior editors; our managing editor is 65.' Premature deaths also rang the knell. Earlier this year, its multi-talented senior editor Farrokh Jijina succumbed at 65 to an illness unbeknownst even to his friends, let alone those he'd mentored at the informative Khaki Tours. How much could the remaining handful do? Sadly, there are few waiting and willing to be groomed. 'We brought in active journalism, going after social issues that were usually not aired,' says Jehangir Patel, reminiscing about his early years as editor of 'Parsiana'. The community journal will fold in October. (Anshuman Poyrekar/HT Photo) (Hindustan Times) Groom Jehangir certainly did. 'Parsiana' stood out as much for its taut writing and tight editing. In the '70s, he'd returned my contribution saying, 'It lacks structure.' I tease him about it today, but back then I was outraged at being rejected by this little start-up when I was already writing cover stories for the nationally acclaimed 'Illustrated Weekly' of Khushwant Singh! But there's a parallel. Just as that legendary editor had unrecognizably transformed A S Raman's dull, godmen-adulating 'Weekly', Jehangir Patel had shaken up the Hatches-Matches-Despatches Parsi genre, and turned Dr Pestonji Warden's plodding journal into a whippersnapper. Mumbai, India - Sept. 25, 2023:Cover page of Parsiana on November 1964 at Parsi Lying Hospital, Fort, in Mumbai, India, on Friday, September 25, 2025. (Photo by Anshuman Poyrekar/ Hindustan Times) (Hindustan Times) Well-meaning Pestonji was a distant relative; his time divided between his medical practice and sandalwood business, with forays into theatre. He'd started 'Parsiana' in 1964 out of a sense of community duty, but when the Yale-returned Jehangir casually mentioned to him his own plan of starting a monthly community publication, an avenue opened for both. Ownership was transferred in 1973 for a token one rupee. What was the parental reaction to a son with an Ivy League degree in Political Science making this leap into the unknown with a niche Parsi publication? His father -- who considered journalism 'okay only as a hobby' -- had passed on in 1971. His elegant mother -- from the fabled Adenwala family -- 'was fine with whatever I chose as long as it kept me happy -- and gainfully occupied.' Mumbai, India - Oct. 31, 2024:Cover page of Parsiana on August 1973 at Parsi Lying Hospital, Fort, in Mumbai, India, on Thursday, October 31, 2024. (Photo by Anshuman Poyrekar/ Hindustan Times) (Hindustan Times) The Yale man infused his new passion with what he'd learnt from his 'side hustles' at the 'San Francisco Examiner' and 'Hartford Times'. His idealism attracted a bright and bushy-tailed team. His good friend Manjula Padmanabhan, still to become a formidable name in the arts, regularly drew cartoons, gently capturing the community's foibles. For example, two hunched, hook-nosed 'bawas' in typical sadra-pajama with one asking: 'Best community? Which others are there?' What did he do differently? 'Even broadly, Parsi papers dealt with community news, much of it sent in. We brought in active journalism, going after social issues that were usually not aired. It caught people off guard. The orthodox didn't like it. Yes,' he agrees with a laugh. 'They still don't. But many people appreciated this freshness, and supported us. They still do.' 'Parsiana' continued to be the strong, quietly liberal voice in a community where 'progressive' is a slur among those who pride themselves as 'traditionalists'. It remained un-awed by self-anointed saviours. It constantly called out the powerful Bombay Parsi Punchayet on management of the prodigious properties and funds in its remit. Mumbai, India - Sept. 22, 2010:Cover page of Parsiana on October 2010 at Parsi Lying Hospital, Fort, in Mumbai, India, on Tuesday, September 22, 2024. (Photo by Anshuman Poyrekar/ Hindustan Times) (Hindustan Times) What raised the most hackles? 'When we began including mixed marriages in the Milestones column.' 'Parsiana' was roundly chastised for 'publicizing and thereby legitimizing' what is the community's most obsessive -- and corrosive -- concern. Some even wanted their subscriptions refunded. But, Jehangir insists, 'The old bluster against contentious issues is fizzling out in the face of reality. The growing number of such unions, or of those opting for cremation rather than the Towers of Silence, and of priests ready to defy 'ostracism' and perform both these ceremonies is testimony to this.' 'Parsiana' always worked as a low-cost, high values operation, so the usual suspect, cash, isn't responsible for the painful decision to shut down. In fact, 'Parsiana' has always received offers of support to continue. What's rung down the curtain is a shift to other forms of media and related fields. 'Conventional print/ online is no match for the immediate reach and gratification of not just social media or the glamour of entertainment.' Mumbai, India - Sept. 14, 2024:Cover page of Parsiana on September 2024 at Parsi Lying Hospital, Fort, in Mumbai, India, on Monday, September 14, 2024. (Photo by Anshuman Poyrekar/ Hindustan Times) (Hindustan Times) Once-grand Parsi benefactions face the same doomsday scenario. When I'd interviewed him decades ago, he'd dismissed the demand to turn educational institutions into affordable community housing. Has he changed his mind? Emphatically not. He continues to believe that 'schools should stay true to their original mission of providing quality education to the disadvantaged, but with few Parsi takers left, they should be made available to all communities. Service, after all, was at the heart of that unique, visionary charity.' Jehangir Patel still stands by his old memorable quote: 'We made our name as institution builders. We should not now be known as real estate agents.'
Hindustan Times
4 days ago
- General
- Hindustan Times
How community journals are soldering on against winds of change
MUMBAI: In a city where identities jostle as tightly as commuters on a local train, Mumbai's regional, community-based publications continue to thrive—quiet sentinels of memory, language and belonging. While 'Parsiana', the polished SoBo journal of Zoroastrian life, is perhaps the most well-known with its global readership, it is within the pages of the less celebrated but equally vibrant Marathi, Gujarati and Konkani periodicals that the city's diverse inner lives find an expression. While Urdu journal 'Shayar' folded up after a 93-year run in 2023, 'Kalnirnay' stands out as a rare success. Consider 'Marmik', the Marathi weekly founded in 1960 by Bal Thackeray. Initially conceived as a political cartoon magazine, it quickly transformed into a platform for Marathi pride and grievance—what the late Sena supremo described as 'anxieties of a community pushed to the margins of its own city'. It eventually galvanised a linguistic identity into a political force, showing the mettle of regional publications. But beyond political assertion lies a quieter world of Marathi magazines and journals. 'Society newsletters, temple magazines and monthly cultural journals continue to hum gently,' says Dr Vidyesh Kulkarni, a Pune-based scholar who chronicled these for his doctoral thesis in 1991. He points to titles such as 'Sahyadri', 'Antarpat' and 'Deepstambh', which offer poetry, short fiction, essays on saints and rituals, and commentary on theatre and literature. 'Produced by cultural mandals, these magazines circulate through homes, temples and libraries—carrying the scent of agarbatti and old paper. They are cultural bridges between generations.' However, Kulkarni notes a growing fragmentation. 'There's a tendency I call 'sociocultural meiosis and mitosis' — where every sub-group within a community demands its own platform. In the age of WhatsApp and social media, this proliferation is becoming unsustainable.' Among Marathi publications, 'Kalnirnay' stands out as a rare success. For 53 years, it has had a pan-Maharashtra presence. 'It began as a way to democratise the panchang, but quickly became more than an almanac,' says Shakti Salgaonkar, the current director. 'The back pages featured writers like Durgabai Bhagwat and P L Deshpande. We've included recipes, lifestyle columns, even train timetables.' So deeply woven is 'Kalnirnay' into the Maharashtrian ethos that its jingle is played on the shehnai at weddings and naming ceremonies. Mumbai's Gujarati-speaking communities offer a similarly layered ecosystem. 'Kutchi Patrika', a newsletter for the Kutchi Jain community, has run for over 60 years. 'It's our mainstay for news, obituaries and event updates,' says Kanji Savla Vamik, part of the team that produces and distributes it. 'It's particularly vital to the Kutchi Visa Oswal Jain community, whose ties stretch across the world.' Religious institutions also publish journals — 'Anand Yatra', 'Shree Yamuna Krupa', 'Vallabh Ashray'—distributing discourses, festival calendars, and moral reflections. 'We tried to keep the younger generation connected,' says Hemal Rawani, who edited 'Raghuvansham' till it shut in 2005. 'But it's a losing battle—they don't even want to learn the language.' His lament finds an echo in Hamid Siddiqui who recalls with anguish the folding up of the Urdu 'Shayar' after a 93-year inning. 'Despite being a top-notch literary publication, it was becoming increasingly unsustainable to produce and we had to stop in 2023,' he says, recounting how his family still 'has sack-loads of the mail' from the readers. 'I wonder why none of them came forward to keep 'Shayar' going…' Among Mumbai's Konkani-speaking communities—Catholics, Goud Saraswat Brahmins, and others—journals have long served as spiritual and cultural anchors. Weekly 'Raknno', printed in Roman-script Konkani since 1938 and distributed from Mangalore to Mumbai, blends religious reflection, fiction and news, often touching on migration, memory, and the sea. Closer home, 'Voice of GSB', a monthly GSB Konkani magazine, features articles on festivals, recipes, wedding traditions and proverbs. What binds these publications—across language, caste, and faith—is their intimacy. They are not driven by TRPs or algorithms. Their contributors are often retired teachers, community elders or enthusiastic youth. Their pages, modest in print and design, pulse with lived experience. 'They are guardians of language in a city where English and Hindi often drown out the subtler cadences of mother tongues,' says Dr Kulkarni. 'In their pages, Marathi, Gujarati and Konkani breathe—not as relics, but as living entities that argue, console and dream.' To read them is to walk the bylanes of Matunga, Dadar, Girgaon and Mahim, listening in on the inner life of communities that built this city long before it reached for the skies.
