Parsi Surnames.........unusual and enlightening.....and........?....
While most surnames in India reflect caste and lineage, the Parsis had a
delightfully modern streak — having landed without caste, history and
context, theyy created identities through professions and urban streets.
Our family moved to Bombay (now Mumbai) from Rawalpindi in 1947. We came
as
refugees but the family soon settled and by 1953 my father had restarted
playing golf at the Willingdon Club. I was eight years old and would walk
18
holes with him every Saturday and Sunday. The three Parsi gentlemen who
made
up his regular four-ball were uncles Poonawala, Coorlawala and
Colabawala.
Very soon they had rechristened my father Pindiwala.
Uncle Colabawala did not live in Colaba but in a penthouse on Malabar
Hill.
May be his ancestors had lived in Colaba. I used to spend hours searching
the telephone directory to find Parsi surnames and building up stories
around their families.
There was prohibition in Bombay those days. So to get liquor you had to
find
Mr Dalal, who would introduce you to Mr Daruwala, who in turn would get
bottles delivered to your home by Mr Batliwala who would be accompanied
by
Mr Sodawaterbottleopenerwalla (the longest Parsi surname I have come
across).
Other surnames whose ancestors were in the beverages trade were Mr
Fountainwala, Mr Ginwala, Mr Rumwala, Mr Sodawala and Mr Jhunjhunwala.
We used to have two delightful Siamese kittens in our flat and these were
gifted to my mother by her friend Mrs Billimoria. My mother spent hours
knitting cardigans for them, with wool she bought from the Unwala family.
My uncle ran the air force canteen in Cotton Green and his partner, yes
you
guessed it, was Mr Canteenwala. They had this fantastic cook, Mr
Bhajiwala.
Their mild and meek manager, Mr Jeejeebhoy, nodded his head and agreed
with
everything everybody said.
My grandfather was the Sheriff of Bombay. I think the first and only Sikh
to
hold this position. Being Sheriff it was only natural that he had Mr
Bandookwala and Mr Golimarwala as his constant companions.
Grandfather had many Parsi friends who were in politics. There was this
squeaky clean khadi-clad Mr Ghandy, and the not so clean Mr Kalaghandy —
<who was invariably being hounded by Mr Kotwal. But he never left home
without his friends
Mr Barrister, Mr Vakil, Mr Lawyer and their munshi Mr Mehnty.
My grandfather built Hotel Waldorf on Arthur Bunder Road in Colaba. So
for
this he naturally used the services of
Mr Contactor and Mr Mistry. He never went to the conservative
moneylenders
when short of money, but borrowed it from his Parsi friend Mr Readymoney.
Our neighbour and family physician was Dr Adi Doctor — he was only half a
doctor. He lived withh his in laws Mr and Mrs Pochkhanawala. My sister
swears they ate only poached eggs for breakfast.
I remember going to Dr Doctor’s sister’s wedding. She married Mr
Screwala.
What he did for a living, I do not know to this day. If you are in Mumbai
maybe you can track him down in the yellow or pink pages.
Jokes apart, there is a lesson for all of us here: imagine if we could
christen our politicians through democratic vote: Jinnahwalla,
Nikarwalla,
Icequeen, Motawalla! It would really be able to keep everyone in check,
where individuals and media didn't only control your public profile but
also
your public identity.
The Parsis have taught us that if you take serious interest in satire,
you
can change the world!
Comedyman
My name today is Comedymanifestowalla!
Courtesy : Cyrus Bulsara
