Category Archives: Miscellaneous

2022 After Mother’s Day Transformational Special

2022 After Mother’s Day Transformational Special




 & Former WZCC Global Vice President

Dr. Karishma Koka – Founder BaHumata

Mobed Zarrir Bhandara – Head Priest ZAC

Join And Share With Love And Light From Meher

This Special Transformational Show Is Dedicated To My GrandDaughter Arianna

 Join Us Early To Get A Special Glimpse Of The Star Of The Show – Arianna

 This Magical Experience Is Focused On How To Use Your Sight To Build Insight

 How To Inform To Transform Not Deform

 How To Live A Life Of Inspiration Without Facing Indoctrination

 ~Meher Amalsad~

This Special Show Will Be Supported By Global Zarthushti Youth Ambassadors From

United States, Canada, India, United Kingdom, Pakistan, Iran, New Zealand,

Germany, Hong Kong, United Arab Emirates, And Australia

Join Zoom Meeting

Meeting ID: 846 1396 6546
Passcode: ARIANNA


Meher Amalsad is an Engineer, Educator, Inventor, Professional Speaker and published Author of Bread for the Head ™

This gift book is filled with thoughts, ideas and affirmations that inspires the heart, motivates the mind and transforms the soul, with prime focus on Parenting, Unconditional Love, Spiritual Consciousness, Success, and Excellence. This work which is rooted in ‘ROLE MODELING rather than RULE MODELING’ has been used by corporations, schools, children, parents, teachers, hospitals, wellness centers as well as healing and rehabilitation centers.

His work has been showcased to over hundred million people across the globe through his numerous appearances on Radio, Television, Cable, and Satellite Talk Shows nationwide.

His philosophies are simple yet applicable in each and every aspect of life.

His purpose is to help others excel academically, discover and maximize their true passions, and become their authentic best selves.

His work is focused on EMPOWERING PEOPLE to create a footprint of success, in them.

Meher has served as the Founding Chair of the North American And World Zoroastrian Youth Congresses since 1985.

He is also the Founding Chair Of The Helping Hands Zoroastrian Youth Committee Of FEZANA, which got transitioned into ZYNA after 7-Years.

Meher has worked as a Program Manager for Hughes Aircraft Company, which is one of the top Aerospace Defense Companies in the world.

Presently, he is serving as the Mentor And Facilitator For The Global BaHumata Prayer, Leadership And Entrepreneurship Monthly Webinar Series.  

His life’s work has been focused on creating UNITY WITHIN DIVERSITY IN HUMANITY

For More Information About His Transformational Work visit:


Please Reserve Your Time For A Milestone Experience Of Your Life.

On Saturday, May 14, 2022

9:00 AM Pacific Time

12:00 NOON Eastern Time

5:00 PM UK Time

8:30 PM Iran Time

8:00 PM UAE Time 

9:00 PM Pakistan Time

9:30 PM India Time

MIDNIGHT Perth Australia, Singapore And Hong Kong Time


 The Facebook stream will be available at

Worli Crematorium partly operational till 7 May 2022

April 30, 2022

We have been informed today morning that the furnaces at the Worli Crematorium have been taken for urgent maintenance which is likely to last till May 07, 2022.

Patrons intending to utilize the facilities are hereby informed that till such time the furnaces at Worli Crematorium become operational, whilst the last rites will be performed at the Prayer Hall, the mortal remains will have to be consigned to the furnaces Shivaji Park or Dadar or other Crematorium/s.

Alternatively, cremation on wooden pyres at Worli Crematorium will continue to be available.


Prayer Hall Services & Maintenance Trust.

“The Essence of Fatherhood” by Murzban F. Shroff

Murzban F. Shroff is a Mumbai-based writer. He is the author of 4 books: Breathless in Bombay (stories); Waiting for Jonathan Koshy (novel); Fasttrack Fiction (digital shorts), and Third Eye Rising (an Indian collection). His stories have appeared in over 70 literary journals in the U.S. and UK, for which he has received 7 Pushcart Prize nominations. Shroff is also the winner of the John Gilgun Fiction Award, a Commonwealth Writers’ Prize shortlisted author, and a finalist for the Horatio Nelson Fiction Prize. His latest story collection, Third Eye Rising, explores issues such as caste, dowry, child apathy, female exploitation, migrant identities and personal loss, and was featured on the Esquire list of Best Books of 2021.

A father is one who raises you by example. Through his deeds and actions he inspires your journey and imparts certain values that help you navigate your own life.

When my father Fali passed away – he transited sweetly, gently, my mother and I beside him on the bed, where he had spent his last days expressing his gratitude to the Lord and to us for the care we bestowed – several people showed up. Among them were some we hadn’t seen in years: people who had wronged or slighted us, now profuse with apologies. A good man has passed, they said, a man who had never hurt a soul, who only exuded kindness, goodness, and humility. They hoped that my father’s soul would forgive them. Looking at their faces, it was evident that Dad’s passing had woken something in them.

What mattered to us, his family, was that he passed away peacefully. Not a spasm of pain did we see in his eyes. Nor discomfort, nor confusion, nor panic. Nor the fear of a final blow telling him he’d be wrenched from his loved ones. It was a death chosen for the few.

The thing about my father was that he believed in the essential goodness of humankind. He kept himself free of negative thoughts: anger, bitterness, hostility, and cynicism had no place in his mind. He refused to doubt his fellow humans. For to doubt them would be to doubt the Lord’s design, something that was unacceptable to him.

A few incidents sit vividly in my mind. Reflecting on them makes me realize I was born to a man from whom I had much to learn.

My father was born into a poor family, where life was a struggle, marked by scarcity and hardship. So he took up the first job that came his way – in a nationalized bank – where he rose over the years to become a manager. For some reason, he would turn down further promotions, refusing to make his way up the corporate ladder. At the time, this irked me, made me suspicious. Does he lack the confidence? I wondered. This was in my early days, when luxuries and the trappings of success mattered greatly to me. With all the impatience of youth, I believed our family was worse off than others, that we had been deprived of our rightful dues.

One day my father explained to me his reasons for refusing the promotions. The entire top layer was corrupt, he said. They were all on the take: for sanctioning bad loans, for waiving bad debts, for cooking up biased evaluations. It was a system that fed on itself, and those who fell in line made tons of money. Dad said he didn’t need that. He had what he wanted: a loving wife, a nice home, kids he hoped would follow some of his ways.

But our cousin K didn’t see it that way. K, young and ambitious, had gotten his job at the bank thanks to Dad, but unlike Dad, K was unburdened by scruples. Cousin K rose rapidly up the corporate ladder by cozying up to the right people. Then, seated in a position of power, he made his demands: in cash or in kind. If his clients relented, it was because they saw in him a banker who asked no questions, who raised no objections; instead, he fast-tracked their projects and got them approvals, loans, and credit.

Making money hand over fist, K surrendered to the good life. He threw lavish parties, he drank the best of whiskies. At family get-togethers, he would strut around, boasting about eating at the best of restaurants, about buying the latest of gadgets, about choosing premium holiday destinations for his family. The elders would listen intently, for it would be K who would have brought the food and whiskey. What they didn’t know was that it would be some poor client of the bank who was footing the bill. On such occasions, K would make it a point to gibe at Dad for his lack of enterprise, and Dad, much to our distress, would not retaliate. He thought himself to be more fortunate than K.

Some of K’s clients would complain to Dad. “Please, sir; he is unceasing in his demands. Ask him to go easy on us.”

Dad would plead helplessness. He couldn’t tell K anything, because, by then, K had far surpassed him. He wielded great authority and could take independent decisions without consulting his bosses. Besides, K had become the management’s cash cow. Through him they saw their fortunes rise.

Whenever clients would talk about K’s demands, Dad would lapse into silence, and we knew he was mourning K’s downfall. According to Dad, “K, poor man, was misled by his frailties and trapped by his greed.” Dad would look pained when he said these words.

Over time, K’s greed increased. He started asking clients to deliver consignments of food to his doorstep: kilos of kingfish, tiger prawns, crabs, and lobsters. Every month, a new gadget would enliven K’s home, and once every year his house would be painted at some poor client’s expense.

His flamboyant lifestyle started showing in his appearance. His body bloated up, his cheeks puffed out, his eyes appeared small and shrewd. He had health problems, too, which he never discussed, but which saw him rush for his tablets after every meal.

Undeterred, K declared a new goal: his son, now eighteen, would go overseas for his education. Of course, K wouldn’t pay for it. He simply sent word into the market: he could sanction bank loans for unviable projects.

The son was bright; he secured admission into an American university.

Promptly, K threw a spate of parties, where, for the first time, the old aunts and uncles had no advice for the young man who was to set off for foreign shores. What could they say? The boy had such a smart father.

“Look!” said an old uncle to the boy, eventually. “Whatever you do, don’t get an American wife. She will make you do all the housework.”

“He won’t have to worry about that,” said K. “A maid will come in twice a week. What is the point of him having his own apartment if he is going to spend time doing housework?” That was K’s way of informing us that his son had been well provided for.

Around that time, trouble was brewing for K. One of his clients, harried by his demands, filed a complaint with the bank’s vigilance department and sent a copy of the complaint to the Central Bureau of Investigation in Delhi. A colleague of Dad’s who worked in the vigilance department phoned Dad and told him of this development.

That whole evening Dad was pensive. If the CBI team were to find any evidence at K’s home, they would arrest him in the presence of his family and neighbors. Overnight, his reputation would be in shreds; he would become an object of contempt. Worse, he would be arrested on the eve of his son’s departure, and that would demoralize the boy and destroy him.

After much reflection, Dad came to a decision. He called a mutual friend and asked him to warn K about the investigation, requesting the friend not to let K know that it was my father who had helped him.

“Why, Dad?” I asked him. “Why deny yourself the satisfaction of letting K know that it was you who stuck your neck out on his behalf?”

“Because I don’t want to embarrass him,” said Dad. “I don’t want him to feel he has lost the respect of his family. He is in for a hard time, anyway. No point adding to his troubles.”

That was one such instance when I realized the kernel in my father.

Another time was when I had gained representation for my book of short stories from an agent in New York City. The agent was excited and wanted to sell the book at the Frankfurt Book Fair, where the biggest deals were signed.

Earlier that year, there had been a flood in Mumbai, which occurred soon after a major flood in the U.S. My agent was keen that I write out a synopsis of a novel that I could potentially work on, a novel about the Great Mumbai Flood, which had seen my city submerged and paralyzed. That sort of novel would fly with publishers, the agent said. They would pay a heavy advance.

I could not bring myself to work on a prefabricated theme like that and told the agent so. But he was insistent. “You don’t seem to understand,” he said, over the phone from Frankfurt. “There is some serious money at stake here. Just write that damn synopsis and you will never be short of dough. You can write to your heart’s content, thereafter.”

After he hung up, I drafted out an email, expressing in strong words my disapproval of his approach. Before sending it, I showed it to Dad, who read it carefully and then said, “Son, whatever you say, remember: it will reflect on your country. This agent will form an opinion of Indians on the basis of what you write to him.” With that, Dad had transferred a huge responsibility onto me: the fact that I would be carrying forth an impression of my country in every communication I wrote. It was a lesson I would remember lifelong.

Going back farther: to a time when I was struggling to perfect my craft. I would spend long hours at my workplace, writing and rewriting. An average workday would stretch to eighteen hours, and it would be three in the morning by the time I got home.

Walking home in the early hours one morning, I found myself attacked by street dogs. Seeing me alone, they came up snarling and snapping and leapt at me. It took all my shouting skills to keep them at bay.

The next day I set out armed with my grandfather’s old walking stick, a staff of solid teak. When the dogs came up to me, I thought, I could keep them at bay by simply wielding the stick. I was worried, though, that it would take only one of them to slip through my defense and sink his teeth into me. When, later, I shared this story with Dad, he said, “Have you tried carrying some biscuits and feeding them, instead? You might just make some friends….”

I was doubtful of this, as the strays seemed uncontrollably ferocious.

Nevertheless, the next day, I carried some biscuits, which I tossed to the strays as soon as they approached. They stopped in their tracks and snapped them up instantly. I realized how famished they were.

Thereafter, every morning, I would be given a royal escort home, with the dogs prancing alongside and wagging their tails. The stick was back where it belonged: in the closet. Even when I would forget to carry the biscuits, the dogs would be pleased to see me. And their joy at seeing me was consistent and unchanging.

Looking back, I am sure these were the kinds of choices my father would have faced in his lifetime: To be the aggressor or the victim? To attack or be attacked? And each time he would have chosen to opt for kindness over aggression, the biscuit over the stick.

It has been eight years since my father passed away. And yet I remember him daily, many times a day, in fact. Every morning, as soon as my eyes open.

Sometimes I lapse into a deep inner silence, thinking how no child can be complete without a parent, it is the parent that completes the child. And how you never really get over the passing of a parent; it is a void that can never be filled. So the best thing you can do to honor them is to live by the code they lived by, tough as that might be.

Help required in study of Pahalvi Language


I’m a student of linguistics in the beginning stages of a Phd centered on the historical grammar of Persian. Included in my program of study is the Pahlavi language, which I am currently painstakingly learning to decipher. I would like to know if the Parsi community of Mumbai can give me the opportunity to access resources pertaining to the Pahlavi language and perhaps give me the chance of glimpsing at the scriptures themselves. I’m staying in Mumbai for the months of May and June for an (unrelated) internship and would be tremendously grateful if my bookish knowledge of Pahlavi could become grounded through interaction with your community.
Thank you for your consideration, and for any possible assistance!
Kirill Fessenko

Karachi urban forest named after late Parsi educator

Deena Mistri served as principal of prestigious BVS Parsi High School

Karachi’s Administrator, Barrister Murtaza Wahab, at the revived urban forest.Image Credit: Karachi Metropolitan Corporation

Karachi: An urban forest near Karachi’s coastline has been revived and named after a late educator from the Parsi community in recognition of her 60 years’ service to educate thousands of students of the city.

Karachi’s Administrator Barrister Murtaza Wahab inaugurated the urban forest in the Clifton area. It has been named after the late Deena Mistri in recognition of her years-long education services in the city. Mistri served as the principal of the prestigious BVS Parsi High School in Karachi for several decades. She was also the recipient of the President’s Pride of Performance Award for her academic services.

Barrister Wahab said on the occasion that Mistri dedicated her life to promoting the cause of education in the city.

He praised the fact that Mistri continued with her educational services for 60 years with the sole purpose of providing the best schooling to generations of kids in Karachi.

He said that it was the third urban forest being launched in the Clifton area for thousands of beach-goers.

He said before its revival, the urban forest had been used as a garbage dump and anti-social elements used to take refuge at the place meant for public recreation.

He said urban spaces and gardens should be maintained in large cities like Karachi to save the citizens from harsh weather and that a tree plantation drive was being conducted to minimise the adverse effects of global warming.

Barrister Wahab added that indigenous and traditional species of trees, including gul mohar, neem, lignum, and banyan would mostly be used to conduct the plantation activity in Karachi. He said conocarpus trees would be removed from the city for their adverse effects on human health.

He expressed gratitude to a famous retail chain of Karachi for joining hands with the Sindh government to revive the urban forest.

Excommunication of Parsi Women: A Legal Analysis

Recently, the Supreme Court of India issued a notice on a plea that challenged the practice of ostracizing Parsi women who chose to marry persons outside the Parsi community. The High Court of Gujarat in the case of Goolrokh Gupta v. Burjor Pardiwala, infamously held that when a Parsi woman marries a non-Parsi person under the Special Marriage Act, 1954, she ceases to be a Parsi unless she obtains declaration from a competent court stating that she has continued to practice her religion even after marriage. Upon the challenge of this judgment by the petitioner, the Supreme Court tagged this case to the Sabarimala review petitions citing the similarity of issues, which then drew attention to the Zoroastrian practice of prohibiting the entry of women who chose to marry persons from other religious faiths into sacred institutions of the Parsi community. This blog post seeks to discuss the test of “essential religious practices” and is a critique of the judgment of the High Court of Gujarat.

Angels of Mumbai: Marzy Parakh

 Hotelier lends helping hand to needy during crisis

Over the past one year alone Marzy Parakh has raised over Rs 2 crore for relief initiatives like distributing ration kits, cooked meals and reimbursing hospital and medicine bills of the needy in various states.
Thirty-year-old hotelier and Worli resident, Marzy Parakh, has been spearheading a drive to help those who are in need since he was 17 years old and has been working tirelessly to help the differently-abled for the past 18 years. Over the past one year alone he raised over Rs 2 crore for relief initiatives like distributing ration kits, cooked meals and reimbursing hospital and medicine bills of the needy in various states.
“We have facilitated masks worth over Rs 7 crore for Mumbai police, BMC and Income Tax officials as well and have facilitated over 3 lakh meals for hospital staff, frontline teams and disadvantaged communities. We have got over 1000 individuals under one roof to form LIVE TO GIVE, a unique Citizens’ movement that enables regular citizens to facilitate help to needy individuals from home,” Parakh said.

He added, “We have started a doorstep ration delivery service for especially abled individuals and a unique 24-hour lifesaving service to facilitate and prioritise booking of hospital beds, ambulances, plasma, dialysis and medicines for extreme need and critical cases. We also started a daily call and follow-up service for senior citizens, destitute, abandoned and disadvantaged individuals.”

Parakh’s work isn’t limited to Mumbai. He has been lending a helping to people across Maharashtra and also to other states. “We facilitated tarpaulin sheets for over 800 cyclone impacted families in Raigad and ration kits for over 500 families for flood relief in Assam. We have also undertaken several search and rescue missions for destitute and abandoned individuals including reuniting an abandoned senior citizen from Mumbai with his family in Uttar Pradesh through a 25-day search on social media,” Parakh shared, while speaking about the initiatives he has implemented.

Parakh has also set up a helpline where every citizen can call in for help and offer help. “Live To Give is a platform that enables the common man to make a difference from the comfort of his home. It works like a 24-hour helpline, that is created, monitored and funded by a pool of common citizens who facilitate timely help to individuals, without excessive turn around time, or paperwork. One can reach us at Whatsapp number 9820084060 or email us at,” he said.

Kersi Deboo has been appointed as a member of the National Commission for Minorities

Navsari-based lawyer, amateur historian, trustee in community trusts and reportedly a member of the Bharatiya Janata Party, Kersi Deboo has been appointed as a member of the National Commission for Minorities, according to a union government notification dated November 16, 2021. The appointment is for a period of three years. The previous Zoroastrian representative was Udwada High Priest Dastur Khurshed Dastoor.

Oldest member of Parsi community celebrates her 107th birthday


KARACHI: The geriatric ward at the infirmary of the Bomanshaw Minocher-Homji (BMH) Parsi Medical Relief Association was decorated with pink, white and gold balloons. You could see flowers everywhere as the Parsi community in the city came together here to celebrate the 107th birthday of Dina Homi Sethna, the oldest living Parsi in the world.

The birthday girl herself, sporting a pretty pink sash over her pink party dress, cut her big rectangular chocolate cake though with a little help as everyone around her said “Happy Birthday”. People from outside the Parsi community were also invited to celebrate the momentous occasion. There was Cardinal Joseph Coutts, politicians Mangla Sharma, Ramesh Singh, Anwar Lala and Abdullah Hussain Haroon along with other celebrities from the showbiz and sports world including actor Feroze Khan.

Well-known female rally driver Tushna Patel, who organised the birthday party, was trying to figure out how to fit 107 candles on the cake. She settled for a set of golden alphabet candles that she put together to make up ‘Happy Birthday’. “My daughter is also name Dina, and today it is also her birthday, according to the Parsi calendar,” Tushna shared with Dawn.

“It’s a big honour for our community to have someone among us who is 107 years old. We Parsis are dwindling in numbers so having a 107-year-old member in our community is amazing,” she added.

Dina’s daughter Sunnu and son-in-law Farrokh Golwalla were also there. “My mother is as wane as any other woman,” said Sunnu. “She was born in 1914 and when we were celebrating her 100th birthday in 2014, she was most annoyed to receive cards that congratulated her for completing a century. She returned all the cards that had 100 written on them. She didn’t want anyone to think she was a day older than 70,” the daughter laughed.

“Mother, as not everyone would know her, is an introvert. She keeps mostly to herself. She has also been hard of hearing. Her hearing is almost gone now. Because of this she has been unable to converse confidently,” Sunnu added.

“She is very caring. When she naps in the afternoon, she tells her attendant to also have a shut eye. ‘Tum bhi so jao, baith kay kia kerna hai [you should also catch some sleep while I do the same]’. The lady volunteers, her attendants lovingly call her Maa [Mother]’,” she shared.

About having her mother committed at the home, Sunnu regrettably added: “I have not left her care to them completely. Physically I am unable to lift her or bathe her but mentally and emotionally my good husband and I are 110 per cent engaged with her well being.”

About the facility, Roshan Mehri, chairperson of the managing committee at the BMH Parsi Medical Relief Association, said that it was a pre-Partition hospital to help the local Parsi community, which has now been turned into a kind of nursing home as well as a facility for geriatric persons who are alone and don’t have anybody to look after them or who can’t be looked after at home.

Published in Dawn, November 8th, 2021

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