When any festival – big or small – comes along, can a true-blue Bawaji ever be far behind? (With due apologies to Shakespeare – I have this this bad habit of distorting his little gems into my, what I consider, humour. But coming back, even at Parsi nuptials, as soon as the couple answers in the affirmative to the question, “Pasand-e-kardim,” posed by the officiating priest, the bawajis make a bee-line to the watering-hole to moisten their tonsils with a couple of preprandial quick ones and some tit bits.

Soon, a nosy Cowsi, having done some snooping around, comes reporting of good things to follow – like the bhonu! The quality of bhonu should not be strained. The machchi-no-sas, chicken farcha, pulao-daar should droppeth upon the patra beneath, till our sated bawaji has to open up his dugli na bows, and the belt of his pantaloons to accommodate the custard that followeth soon!

“Darabsha! Darabsha! Stop day-dreaming, churn out your usual bakwas quickly. I have some space to fill!” That’s my ma’am editor. Strange how much she sounds like my wife after the boys’ poker evening! “Yes ma’am! Almost done!”

In addition to our Parsi pegs, us Parsis have a legendary reputation of nurturing an incurable sweet tooth! Now that could surely be another reason we partake of all festivities – Indian and otherwise, in addition, of course to our own! Heck! That could also be the reason we celebrate all our occasions twice over – the English day and the Roj Day! The year-end is our favourite – it’s a gala time – from Diwali to New Year, there’s numerous occasions and let’s not forget all those navjotes and lagans that mark the season.

During Diwali, the ‘festival of sweets’, oops, I mean ‘lights’, us Bawas brave all the loud ear-shattering firecrackers for those mava-rich Indian creations – burfis, pedas (pendas to Parsis) and those divine ringlets of joy – jalebies. We have our own version of jalebis in proper Parsi style – thicker, juicier and wider by nine inches… and also the stringy delight ‘sutarfeni’, which nephew’s grandson from Australia calls ‘Parsi noodles’! And then Christmas with it’s signature gingerbread cookies, christmas pudding, plum cake, stollen, yule logs, eggnog, chocolate fudge and the equally in demand indian counterparts – kul-kul, bebinca, nevreo, achappam rose cookies, doldol, i could go on and on!

Nowhere in the world would one find such a rich repertoire of sweets as in the Indian sub-continent! Making sweet dishes is a craft passed down generations. Each state, city, village or community has its sweet speciality – and no true Parsi can resist dipping his digits into gooey, sticky, crunchy, tongue tickling treats!

December is when we proudly add our unique sweet twist to the never-ending sweet saga with Vasanu made of a hundred plus ingredients, rich and expensive Badam Paak and the invigorating Eeda Paak which dominate the breakfast scene.

The wife interjects my sweet dreams, “Darabsha! Here’s a list of things you must bring me by today evening from Crawford Market! And while you’re there, don’t waste time gulping rich foods downed with the famous faloodas. Oh and also pick up a fine, plump turkey. My bro Jamsu is also joining us for dinner.” I cringe. “Also get rum and Port wine to soak the sultanas, currents, apricots, and ginger peels, orange peels, and tutti-frutti. Do not bother about Cognac, I have found it from your hiding place.” Now my mood is truly ruined!

Jamsu is always broke, or rarely in possession of ‘small amounts’ to defray his taxi fare. He only has ‘big notes’. In fact his own club members believe, “Neither a lender be, if Jamsu the borrower be!” But the blighter being my wife’s doting brother, walks into my home with impunity, glugs down my Scotch even as his indulging sis looks on, and he merrily borrows from her his ‘cab fare’. There I go rambling again.

Let’s circle back to New Year’s Eve! Resolutions are made. Broken the very next day! Parsi pegs are quaffed, small eats are gobbled. Dancing on till the wee hours of the morn. Ladies feet are stepped upon. The Auld Lang Syne feeling lingers on as we bid adieu to the year gone by. Jamsu tries to wrangle taxi fare again from his sis and successfully too, as my better-half slips a few extra Rs. 500 notes into  his grubby hands, to his delight and my disdain.

But be that as it may. For now, let’s embrace this ‘sweet’ festive season and look forward to a much deserved, ‘honey-ed and money-ed’ 2025, with more mithais to munch, as we reinforce our reputation as the sweetest bunch! Happy New Year 2025!