-By Sherry M. Cama

Every Parsi baug has that one family where the volume level is slightly higher, the opinions are stronger and the neighbours remain permanently entertained. In one such colony, that honour belongs to the illustrious Noshirwan family. Now, from the outside, the Noshirwans appear perfectly respectable. Their doorbell plays an enthusiastic version of ‘Chhaiye Hamey Jarthosti’, their balcony proudly displays plastic flowers from 1998 and their shoe rack contains enough footwear to supply a small army.

But inside that flat, especially during Navroz preparations, a delicate geopolitical crisis is always simmering. At the centre of this domestic drama stands Pendi-Perin Noshirwan, the formidable mother-in-law, so named for her well-upholstered personality and equally generous opinions. She believes firmly in two things – One, that she knows everything; and, Two, that everyone else is doing everything wrong.

Her long-suffering husband, Becharo-Behram has long ago accepted his role in life as silent furniture. A gentle soul who once attempted to voice his opinion about the correct consistency of ravo, Behram has not attempted it again, since 2005. Their son, Faselo-Firoze, lives in a permanent state of emotional crossfire – with, his mother, the indestructible Pendi-Perin on one side and on the other, his wife – Naataku-Natasha.

Now Natasha is everything modern Parsi mothers claim to want in a daughter-in-law – she’s beautiful, fair, highly educated, financially independent and… extremely articulate. The problem is that she is also extremely articulate. Especially when arguing. Which she does with next-level commitment. And aapro Faselo-Firoze, who still cannot believe that such a glamorous and career-oriented woman agreed to marry him, spends most of his time nodding nervously and trying to avoid eye contact with either party.

Navroz morning begins at 6:30 am, with Pendi-Perin already marching around the kitchen like a field general! “Firoze! Why are you standing there like a decorative flower pot? Go get the fish from the Machhi Bajaar!” Natasha appears within moments, holding a laptop. “Mumma! Please don’t shout at him. He is trying!”

Pendi-Perin snorts. “Trying? Trying what? To breathe?” Behram quietly moves to the balcony to water plants that do not require watering. Meanwhile Natasha is reviewing her Navroz guest list. “Arre Firoze, why have you invited twenty-two people? Our dining table seats eight!” Firoze clears his throat: “They are mostly relatives.” Natasha stares. “Mostly?” Before Firoze can clarify, the doorbell rings.

In comes the Baug’s unofficial news agency – Nosy-Daisy, whose only aim in life is gathering information, blowing it out of proportion and redistributing it across the colony faster than Wi-Fi. Behind her lurks her perpetually suspicious husband, Shakilo-Sharukh, who looks at everyone as though they might be secretly stealing his slippers.

“Navroz Mubarak!” Daisy announces while scanning the house like a crime investigator. “What’s happening? Why is Natasha looking upset? Why is Firoze sweating? Why is Behram watering the plant since twenty minutes?” Before anyone can respond, disaster strikes – the front door opens again and out shoots Rakharto-Rocky, Natasha’s beloved pet Golden Retriever, who specialises in running away given the slightest opportunity, much to envy of Behram.

“Rockyyyyyy!” Natasha screams. He vanishes into the baug garden. Natasha turns toward Firoze. “You cannot handle even one dog!” Firoze opens his mouth to respond but Mumma Perin jumps in. “Of course he cannot handle a dog. I raised him to be a gentleman, not a dog catcher.” Within minutes the entire building is searching for Rocky. Nosy-Daisy is giving running commentary to five neighbours on the phone: “Rocky missing from Noshirwan residence again. Possible emotional tension between vahu-and-saasu.” Shakilo-Sharukh suspects Rocky may have been kidnapped by a maid from the neighbouring building, who he suspects has been robbing his milk-packets in the mornings.

Behram goes back to watering the plants. Eventually Rocky is found happily chewing a child’s cricket ball near the parking lot. Back upstairs, tempers are slightly calmer. But the tension returns when Natasha notices something alarming. “Mumma! Why is there sugar in the masala daar?!?” Pendi-Perin gasps: “Because that is how it should be!” Natasha looks horrified. “This daar is to be had with pulao – it’s not dessert!” Firoze immediately begins drinking raspberry soda to avoid participation. Nosy-Daisy whispers loudly to Sharukh: “This is how wars start.”

As the afternoon progresses, relatives begin arriving. There is Late-Latif Lancy who is two hours late but still complains the food is cold. Diet-Dolly, who insists she is ‘off carbs’ secretly finishes half the lagan-nu-custard; and Philosopher-Percy begins explaining the spiritual symbolism of Mori Daar, until everyone moves away quietly.

Despite the chaos, something slowly changes. The house fills with laughter. The table fills with food. Even Pendi-Perin softens slightly when Natasha arranges the Navroz table beautifully with flowers and silver bowls. Firoze cautiously pours raspberry soda for everyone. Behram finally speaks: “The masala ni daar is quite tasty!” Everyone freezes. But instead of arguing, Natasha smiles: “Thank you, Pappa.” Pendi-Perin nods grudgingly. And for one brief, miraculous moment, peace settles over the Noshirwan household.

Firoze looks around at the noisy, chaotic, slightly argumentative family and sighs happily. Because that is the strange magic of Navroz. All year long Parsis may argue about everything from parking spaces to dog discipline to the correct amount of fudna in the choi. But when Navroz arrives, the quarrels soften. The laughter returns. Even Nosy-Daisy forgets to gossip for five full minutes! And Faselo-Firoze finally relaxes, safe between the two women who run his life.

Just then Rocky quietly jumps onto a chair and steals another Marghi-nu-farchu! Natasha pretends not to notice. Perin pretends not to notice. Behram definitely notices but wisely says nothing. Because on Navroz, even the Noshirwans know one important rule – in a Parsi family, love is always louder than the arguments… even if Rocky runs away again tomorrow!