By Behram Bharucha

National Egg Day is arriving on 3^rd June, but honestly, for Parsis, every day, since the existence of poultry, has been National Eedu Day! Eedu for Parsis is beyond food – it is emotion, it is therapy, it is tradition. Doctors prescribe vitamins. Parsis prescribe eedu. Somewhere inside every Parsi fridge sits one sacred tray of eeda, protected with more care than family gold and LIC papers.

In fact, most Parsi children don’t grow up with as much education as they do with ‘Eedu’cation. By age six, little Pervez Pudinawala and Freny Framji have already mastered twelve egg preparations and can emotionally identify the difference between akuri and bharuchi akuri, or charvel eedu (scrambled eggs) and “that disaster your father made on Sunday!”

For the slightly older, there is the Parsi Eggsistential Crisis… around age forty-five when the cardiologist says, “Look at your cholesterol! Please reduce Eeda.” To which, the average Parsi reacts as though personally betrayed by his very own guardian angels: “Reduce eggs?? Then what should I eat? Furniture?!”

Of course, every Parsi home has one egg-obsessed relative. In Rustom Uncle’s house, breakfast starts with Akuri on toast, lunch offers kheema-per-eedu, tea-time includes egg-chutney pattice and dinner ends with salli-per-eedu… “because protein is important.” Even their pet-dog, Poopsie, looks permanently confused and slightly cholesterol-heavy.

When it comes to the legendary Parsi creativity with eggs, no other community comes close! Coz no one has looked at every food item and thought, “How do I put eedu on this?” Be it wafers, left over veggies, cold-cut meats, or anything really! Put an eedu on it and it’s suddenly exciting. (Case in point: Plain bhaji versus bhaji-per-eedu!) In fact, once Perin aunty also attempted chocolate soufflé-per-eedu and declared it experi‘mental’ continental!

Then comes the great yolk controversy. Few topics divide Parsis more dangerously than how an eedu should be cooked. Some want yolk flowing artistically like monsoon flooding at Tardeo. (In fact, it is said that a broken yolk on a sunny side up or ‘aakhi-daar nu eedu’ invites the wrath of seven generations of ancestors!). Others insist it must be cooked till it qualifies as a heritage monument. Both groups silently judge each other’s upbringing and ‘eedu’cation!

Parsis abroad are another category altogether. A Parsi can migrate to New Jersey, settle in Toronto, buy property in London and acquire an Australian accent, but emotionally remains headquartered in an Irani café. At least once a month, some homesick Bawaji wakes up in a cold sweat at 3:00 am, desperately craving akuri-with-brun. Within minutes, the family WhatsApp group is activated, recipes are exchanged across three continents, and an emergency egg-operation is underway!

Then there is the modern fitness-obsessed Parsi – the community’s newest endangered species. Every morning he wakes up with a different egg philosophy depending on which Instagram fitness guru he followed before falling asleep last night. Monday: “Only egg whites. Pure protein.” Wednesday: “Nai re nai! Yolk is where the nutrition is!” Friday: “I now consume only ethically raised, spiritually fulfilled, Himalayan free-range eeda blessed by Tibetan monks.” Meanwhile, Mehru Mamaiji quietly fries four eggs in enough butter to lubricate a Boeing 747 and mutters, “At your age, your grandfather ate six eeda daily and chased trams! Stop behaving like National Geographic!” Yes Mamaiji, but grandpa also walked from Grant Road to Colaba!

And why do Parsis never cook small quantities? Nobody knows. If four people are eating, enough eeda must be prepared for at least twelve! Every Parsi household behaves as though an unexpected delegation of starving relatives from Navsari could arrive at any moment. “Make extra for safety,” says the family matriarch. Safety from what remains one of humanity’s greatest mysteries. In fact, if you ever want to shock a Parsi family, simply walk into their home and casually announce: “I don’t eat eggs.”

And then there are Parsi mothers. No matter what your age, career or emotional condition, they firmly believe eggs can solve everything. Exam stress? “Have eedu!” Break-up? “Have eedu!” Job loss? “Have double eedu!” Nuclear war? “At least eat properly before radiation starts.”

And somehow, despite sushi, quinoa, avocado toast and all modern food trends entering our lives, us Parsis always return loyally to eedu. Because eedu represents everything Parsis love: comfort, warmth, overfeeding, family arguments, butter and emotional blackmail through food. If UNESCO ever studies the Parsi community, they will conclude we survived centuries of migration, invasion and chaos mainly because somebody kept serving us Eeda at regular intervals!

So, this National Egg Day, let us celebrate the lovely eedu – the one ingredient that has held our community together stronger than WhatsApp gossip and free Ghambars! Because long after trends disappear and diets change, somewhere in a Parsi kitchen, one tiny frying pan will continue sizzling proudly. And from inside the house, a voice will inevitably shout: “Arre baba, somebody please tell Soli not to finish all the akuri before the guests arrive!”