Old school: JB Petit High School. (TOI photo: Rizwan Mithawala)

When the Bharda High School building was established in the 19th century, its neo-classical facade looked out on the vast expanse of the Bombay esplanade. Sea breeze streamed through the louvered windows of its grand hall, up the majestic central staircase and through the wrought iron grilles crowning its wooden doorways. “You could see all the way to Jer Mahal from here,” says conservation architect Vikas Dilawari, referring to the heritage building that houses Kyani and Company at Metro junction.

The landscape around Bharda has changed in a myriad ways since then— the esplanade has been diced into maidans and the sea has been beaten back by reclamations and tetrapods— but within the school’s walls, an army of painters, masons and carpenters are trying to turn back the clock. Wooden doors are being scraped of paint, marble floors are being polished and its “Bhau-Daji-Lad-Museum-style” staircase —sporting Hindu deities—is being painstakingly restored. “Instead of the usual ‘spit and polish’ repairs, we decided to hire a conservation architect and do a perfect job,” explains trustee Muncherji Cama, adding that a well and stables were discovered during the restoration process because it was once the home of a Bhatia trader.

Like Bharda, a number of Mumbai’s schools are celebrating their history and taking pride in their built heritage. The Byramjee Jejeebhoy Parsi Charitable Institution (BJPCI), a Muscular Gothic structure on Charni Road, has kept Dilawari on its rolls as a maintenance architect for 26 years, while Cathedral and John Connon School’s three colonial-style buildings in Fort— designed by the Royal Bombay Yacht Club’s John Adams—were restored by urban conservationist Brinda Somaya in the 1990s.

At JB Petit High School in Fort, the school’s 156-year-old history is mapped on a colourful bulletin board in a child’s imagination. There’s a smiling Miss Prescott with button eyes and a blue-and-white pinafore, who got the land to start the school for Indian girls in 1867, and a moustachioed Premchand Roychand—sporting an orange turban—who gave the school a generous grant in 1875. And nostalgic selfies with the marble bust of the school’s namesake, philanthropist Jehangir Bomanji Petit, who prevented its takeover by another educational institute, are mandatory for outgoing batches.

JB’s original two-storey stone building—now woefully inadequate for the school’s expanding needs—still exists with its Gothic pillars, arches, cantilevered wooden staircase and eagle perched atop the pediment. Today, the trustees and parent body want to “modernise the campus” by demolishing the later concrete additions and building a contemporary structure. But the school is so attached to its heritage block that they’ve hired conservation architect, Abha Narain Lambah, to ensure that the new structure doesn’t clash with the old. “The heritage committee recently issued a no objection certificate saying, ‘The new structure is a contemporary addition but is respectful and sensitive to the historic building’,” says Lambah.

At BJPCI, Dilawari’s interventions have been sporadic depending on when funds are available. He’s scrubbed the stone arches and pillars free of paint, repaired the school’s piece de resistance, which is a cantilevered stone-cum-wood staircase and restored the stained glass gracing the library’s rose window. Perhaps his most ambitious project was re-creating Athena, the Greek virgin goddess of reason, arts and literature, atop the central pediment. “Only one trustee, who was a former student, remembered the statue, which disappeared many decades ago, and so the new design was based on his recollection,” says principal Pavana Anchees.

Few Mumbai buildings have crowning features—CST boasts a statue of Progress and the BMC building has the Primus in indis–making the BJPCI part of an elite club.

Restoring a school presents unique challenges because classes can’t be stopped indefinitely. Architects must work during the summer holidays and steer clear of construction work during exam season. Raising funds for sensitive restorations also poses a challenge. While the restoration work in Bharda and BJPCI is being funded by the schools’ trusts, JB has set up a fundraising committee. In fact, the principal, Benaifer P Kutar, was told that since JB is a girls’ school—and women don’t control the purse strings in a household—financing the project would be problematic. But JB, which was one of the first schools in the city to admit Indian girls, has a history of defying the odds. “Our girls will meet the challenge,” the principal retorts.

Jam-e-Jamshed, issue of February 7, 2010

Living  Legends – II

Jam-e-Jamshed: Asia’s second oldest newspaper

Jam-e-Jamshed is Asia’s second oldest newspaper. Ten years after the first newspaper in Asia, Bombay Samachar, was launched in Mumbai (which interestingly still comes out from the same place where it was started), an influential Parsi family, the Marzbans, started a Gujarati newspaper titled Jam-e-Jamshed mainly for the Parsi community.  It was first published as a weekly on 12th March 1832 from its own distinctive red brick building at Ballard Pier near the Mumbai Docks. In 1853, it was converted into a daily.

In Persian, Jam-e-Jamshed means the jam-goblet of Shah Jamshid. This has two implications. One is the jam of spiritual intoxication – Ishq-e-Hakiki – the love for the Divine and the other is  the jam of the World-Time, in which all the past, present and future can be seen.

The early 19th century was an interesting time for people living in Bombay trying to do business. This was the time when Gujaratis, Parsis and Bohras, the three key trading communities, were slowly establishing themselves in and around Mumbai Port. And with the trade bourse coming up, the emergence of a newspaper was inevitable. The first newspapers coming out from Bombay carried reports primarily revolving around businesses in Europe as well as events that affected the Indian sub-continent.

Jam-e-Jamshed’s primary focus was the Parsi community. K.N. Dastoor writes:  “In those days, Parsi life was entirely unique. They were in Hindustan for more than a thousand years. They were intensely conscious that they were on this holy land of rishis and saints to preserve and protect their religious institutions viz. (1) Sudreh Kushti, (2) Manthra Prayers, (3) Yasna (Kriyakaam), (4) Temples of the Holy Fire, (5) Dokhma, (6) a stringent moral code of truth, charity and repentance (Meher-Patet) loosely called ‘good’ thoughts, words and deeds, and (7) above all Boonak-Paasbaani, the protection of the racial gene.

Jam-e-Jamshed was all for these institutions, actively helping the Parsis to make them an integral part of their day-to-day life. Being a daily, it also functioned like a national newspaper, with all the current news and views on politics and social life but its main function was to remind Parsis constantly about their religious heritage and culture and keep them alive and thundering in the midst of whatever political turmoil happened to be around.

Dastoor argues that Jam-e-Jamshed was mainly responsible for keeping Parsi public opinion on the track of orthodoxy. It fought against the reformist wave which was in vogue during the late 19th and early 20th century and stood against conversion, mixed marriages, and mixed Navjote.

There was opposition from within the community against the orthodox editorial policy of Jam-e-Jamshed and attempts were made to usher in reforms. From the 1940s till about the 1960s, the paper tried to promote reformist ideas, especially with Fram Bulsara as joint editor but this effort provoked stiff opposition from the orthodox.

During the early 20th century, the newspaper reported on the freedom struggle. If Parsis were the first to embrace several aspects of a western lifestyle, they were also among the first and most intensely involved in the freedom struggle. The paper chronicled the struggle for freedom.

By the 1960s, Jam-e-Jamshed’s financial crisis was deepening. Nanabhai Beheramji tried to rescue the situation with a virtual takeover and by gradually tilting back to the orthodox line. Keki Katki, a reputed journalist, worked forJam-e-Jamshed and wrote extensively on religious matters but the paper continued to lose steam. The daily Jam-e Jamshed closed down but it continued as a weekly.

Although the paper was (and is) primarily for the Parsi community, it was not limited to the community. In fact, as the present editor Shernaaz Engineer, a former journalist with the Afternoon Despatch & Courier, said in an interview[1]with Prabhat Sharan of the Deccan Herald about its readership: “The newspaper primarily had a readership from the trading communities. And Parsis, of course, comprised a major chunk. But then another huge chunk of readership came from the Bohra community. Both are business communities. And since Parsis are the original “argumentative Indians” the newspaper also had moorings in carrying extreme views and debates on every topic on the earth. Therefore it had a spectrum of diverse readership from other communities.”

However, Jam-e-Jamshed has moved with the times, literally and symbolically. It has moved out of its red brick building near the Mumbai docks, a move that symbolizes the fact that it has now become a global Parsi community newspaper and, as such, the voice of Parsis worldwide.  But even though more and more Parsis are settling abroad, they want to remain connected with the homeland and a publication like Jam-e-Jamshed meets this need.

It is now published as a weekly in Gujarati and English, in fact, more English than Gujarati – earlier it was 12 pages in Gujarati and four pages in English (the present editor, Shernaaz Engineer, reversed this) and has an online and social media presence.

http://www.thehoot.org/media-watch/regional-media/indias-second-oldest-newspaper-9438