 Basically, what I'm going to be talking about today is two things which we started about 10 years ago. One was for a UNESCO project called Asha the Law of Harmony, a study of environmental rituals and Zoroastrian, environmental heritage and Zoroastrian rituals. We started studying the Yashna and we recorded the first professional recording of the Yashna was done around 2002. That was the same time when we were studying the Kasti and the weaving of the Kasti in Navsari. And there were so many similarities, both linguistic and metaphysical, as well as actual technical similarities. And that's when I decided, because we all have been brought up with this idea of wearing a sacred armor around ourselves as Karan was talking. So I decided, let me put these two things together and try and explain what seems very simple. The Sadra Kasti and the significance of it to us in Zoroastrians wherever we live in the world today. So I came to Zoroastrianism basically because of a UNESCO request that I start this project. And we have to realize that the Parsi Zoroastrians are a people without borders. We are a threatened community. We are very thinly spread and yet we carry within ourselves an ancient heritage which grants us a place in the UNESCO memory of the world program. It was established in 1999 and Dato Habiba Zon of Malaysia introduced it thus, I quote, while at one level people the world over are creating memories, be it sound recordings, film, videotapes, photographs. And the output of the present century alone is probably greater than the total output of all previous centuries put together. Ironically and tragically, it is being lost faster than ever before, unquote. Part of ICH, that's UNESCO term for Intangible Cultural Heritage, memory is both traditional and contemporary. It binds together inheritance with living practices and often is inclusive for much of humanity shares these expressions. One such example can be seen in the first slide, the sacred thread of the Vedic Brahmin, the Janoi and the Zoroastrian Kasti. There are many similarities if you can see the photograph, the Tikka which we have adopted, which is on Dasturji Kotwal, a young Dasturji Kotwal's Navjot ceremony of a young girl. Basically on the central Asian steps, the Indo-European peoples live together and the two branches remain very closely connected even today. The Vedic Hindus and the Iranians are as in neighbors. Prophet Zarathushtra knew then of the sacred cord which binds these two cousin cultures. Legend tells us that when he left home to seek out Ramazda, Lord of Wisdom, all Zarathushtra asked for from his father Purushasper was, as his property, as a share of property was a sacred cord which his father wore as a girdle. According to the Sattar, the first person who set the varying of the sacred thread girdle was Jamshid. The Dadeshtani Dineke explains that while the sacred girdle, a thread girdle quote, was worn before the coming of Zarathusht, it was he who provided the religious formula, the Nirangakasti. The text also describes the partner garment, the sadra or Vahumanikvastra quote, destructive of the power of destruction, obstructive of the way to sin. Over millennia, the sadra kasti have become key symbols of the Zoroastrian faith. They are garments of identity as well as sacred armor, protecting those Zoroastrians. Created when the Bronze Age was progressing, they bind the Zoroastrians to their faith in our post-modern world. You must have seen Ankitil the Peron's book displayed downstairs. This is also from Ankitil the Peron's book, the sadra kasti, and there's the padan over there. This is the young man at the computer on his naujoth day, wearing the same sadra kasti and tying the knot. Why do these two garments give rise to such intense feelings among the Parsis orastrians? The Iranis or Zathustis are neither as judgmental or strict about their usage. Can this be partly reflective of a particular Parsis refugee ethos? And I see Shaheen looking at me and I'm going to aim this at you. A refugee ethos perhaps encourages a sense of identity and social responsibility, helping individuals feel part of one or different from other communities. For a tiny minority group, it is not just the cultural manifestation itself, similar in fact to their Hindu neighbors, but rather the wealth of skill and knowledge that it transmits that adds a great importance to these garments. In Parsis orastrian history, change has been a constant. Language and dress adapted to assimilate into India, food habits changed, and a complex layered identity developed. Indian externally for a long time, a subcast in the caste system, replete as you see on the slide, with external manifestations such as nose rings and heavy jewellery, these layers became more complex and more schizophrenic when the community embraced Western cultural norms. This is a Parsi woman of India with her Western shoes and a little parasol and a Western blouse, but her Sadra shows right up to her knee. And of course she's wearing the Parsisari with the sore over her head. This last picture has come out very recently. It's Sunita Arapurwala's Parsis. She's found this young girl Aisha Billimoria at the oval every morning, very fascinating because of the color of her hair. And this picture, I think these three pictures show you how the Sadra remains hidden or exposed, but it's still present always. These changes in dress were always external. Between, beneath the layers, physical and metaphorical, a core armor remained, a simple white muslin Sadra or Sudre, religious undershirt with the Kasti or sacred thread. These garments remained beneath, just as a core identity remained, unaffected by external shifts in location, language, and across centuries of time. The Sadra Kasti then, I put forth, seems to provide the self-definition of a community. This need for an inner identity is a valid response for a refugee group then and continues to be a valid response in our homogenizing modern world. As globalization increases, it is by examining the traditions of the past that many communities are trying to fashion their cultural identity for a future. The next slide links past and present. There's a picture from Susa of Spinning, and we have Urna Banji Spinning in 2013 in Navsari, or many of you have seen her at her spinning. Spinning and weaving are part of humankind's most ancient skills. This site is still common in Navsari, but weaving is also a metaphor as old as Arathushra's Gathas. I quote from Yashna 28.3, O Asha unto thee shall I wield hymns, and unto Vahumana as near before, and unto Mazda Aura as well. The poetic fabric of the Gathas forms a bedrock of Zoroastrianism. As we know throughout classical literature, there have been famous weavers recounting the stories of their civilizations in their tapestries, be it Homer's Penelope and Helen, or as Oscar Yeho points out, Fridosi in Ishanami. So in the Gathas, Arathushra weaves harmony and devotion, not just for man, but for the entire cosmos. The prophet and his followers promise to work together to strengthen a divine fabric. Therefore, at the heart of Zoroastrianism lies a doctrine of interdependence and unity of man and creation. Man's choice of the path of Asha, Vedicrita, makes him a fellow worker or humkar with the beneficent spirit. Zoroastrianism, as Karan says, places great responsibility on man. In his actions lie a salvation. Zoroastrianism has been called the religion of action. Since for the Zoroastrian, each human has a ruwan translated as soul, but whose literal meaning the chooser conveys its significance more accurately. Complete freedom is given to the individual. Yashna 30, year with your years, the highest truths I preach and with ill-human minds, weigh them with care before you choose which of the true paths to tread, deciding man by man, each for each. Zoroastrianism's entire teachings can be compressed as we all know into three commandments, humakta hukta hurvarashtha, good thoughts, good words, good deeds. But good deeds are most important, and that is why the knot of the kasti is made at the word shothenanam to work or action. The Zoroastrian therefore, guards himself up every day to be a soldier of the Lord, the best service to God, being service to his creation. While today in the 21st century, we are still struggling to achieve human rights, in the Bronze Age, Zarathustra had already spoken of the rights of plants and animals, of reverence and nurture of all life. The law of Asha is essential for balance and well-being. The rituals of the religion, be it the daily kasti of the individual or the prehistoric Yashna, performed by highly trained priests, are both concerned with the creation of a protective shield to preserve life from destructive evil. Yashna, sanskrityagna from the avastha root yaj, sanskrityag, meaning to invoke worship praise, is the act of sacrifice performed to help strengthen the world of Asha and spiritually energize all the seven creations. This paper then examines the circular nature of both these rituals. The kasti tied around the body creates a daily circle of protection, the yashna, growing water from the well, before dawn, binding together through prayer, all the seven creations, before the circle is completed by the water being poured back into the well, now spiritually energized, strengthens each new day. The links of the liturgical ceremony and the daily ritual of the kasti are seen in the pelvi texts as axe-binding man in the cosmos. An individual starts his day with kasti prayers facing the sunlight, just as the yashna awakens the fire of mental and physical illumination, driving back the negatives of darkness, disorder, and ignorance. In the yashna ceremony, all the 72 haas or chapters are chanted. It includes the home ceremony and ultimately the priest representing man gives back to nature, strengthened, purified, and consecrated water. Besides references to the yashna and the pelvi texts of the 19th, 10th century A.C., such as Dinkar, Bundeshthan, that Dathisthani, Dinak and Shais, Lasais, the Greek's Herodotus and Strabo also speak about it. These two pictures, again, both books are downstairs. One is from Thomas Hyde, 1700s, the yashna and the priest with the barsom, and this is Ankitil de Peron's very accurate description of what you will see in photographs is the same even today. Unlike the Hindu yagna, the Zorasana yashna can only be performed between sunrise and noon in Havange, performed on behalf of and in aid of all creation, two priests start the day by helping increase righteousness. Sarathushtra, it is believed, composed a definite liturgy for it. The texts together form the stotayashna, words of praise and worship, unchanged across millennia. The recitation of the 72 chapters or haas of the text, whole linguistic significance for the Kasti ritual. The knife there you see is the kaplor, that which you cut with. We have an ivory knife later, which I'll be talking about. There's water, there's fire. Ha comes from the avasthan haiti, meaning chapter or section. It comes from the root ha to cut. The 72 threads which are woven together to make up the Kasti are cut with an ivory knife by a priest when the weaving is complete. These threads then symbolize the 72 haas or chapters of the yashna. The yashna has cosmological significance too, evoking the whole story of creation. At the end of time in Zoroastrian cosmology, the power of Avramazda will defeat evil. At the Frasokareti, all will be made wonderful. Thus this ritual advances time to infinite perfection. The natural items consecrated by the yashna include the leaf of the date palm, the avoingam, the surji kotwal, sorry, I'll never get it correct, the twig of the pomegranate tree or urvaram, the fresh milk of a goat jivam, the sacred bread darun, and goshtho, which we argued about yesterday, which is now basically clarified butter or ghee, and of course home, the twig of the home plant. The consecrated water or zore and fire in the Afarganu fed with sandalwood and incense are essential for this complex ritual. Fire temples often have date palms growing on their premises as the trees needed in many rituals. The word awongan comes from the Avastan Aivi, Sanskrit abhi, roundabout and yongoha, yong, to put on, means putting on a bond or tie. Therefore the main idea is unification. The same word is used in the Avastah awongan to symbolize the kasti. Just as the kasti unites into a circle of harmony, all those who wear it, the strips of the leaf of the date palm unite the barsam, signifying the unity of all nature. You can see him actually tying the thread over here. The principle ritual in the yashna is the preparation and celebration of the home. The home sacrifice has been seen as the sacrifice of a god dying in order to preserve creation. In this part of the yashna, the havinim or metal or stone mortar is used and the twigs of the home are pounded with a pestle. When struck, these ritual apparatus make a deep ringing sound, which it is believed exercises evil. The marui, the moon-faced metallic stands are also called barsamdan. Since the barsam twigs are placed on them, the barsam comes from the avyastan bharisman, avastharoos bares sanskrit bharat to grow. The barsam, a symbol of God's vegetable creation, is placed on the marui. As it is believed, the moon aids fertility, so it symbolically increases growth. As the ceremony develops, as you've seen, a strip of the leaf of the date palm is tied to the barsam. When the priest recites a yathavario mantra, each time he utters the word shothenanaam, he ties the palm cord into a reef knot. And finally, with the cutting of the loose ends of the date palm cord, he recites a dedication to the Lord of Wisdom. The nirangikasti is very similar. Shiaslashias confirms, and I quote, the priest washes the twigs, ties them together with a kastik, or girdle formed of six thread-like ribbons split out of the leaflet of a date palm. This girdle is secured with a right-handed and left-handed knot exactly as the kasti, or sacred girdle, is secured around the waist. The one who recites the kasti holds his hands together, contemplating Avramazda's glory, and at the word shothenanaam or action, a loose reef knot is tied, concentrating on good thoughts, good words, good deeds. The double knot is completed behind as the last word of the prayer is uttered. So the Yashna ceremony continues with the darun being prepared, the pounding of the home, the ritual gesture of striking the pestle against the mortar, is a driving away of Ariman. Similarly in the nirangikasti, the person bows, raises the kasti to his forehead at the name of Avramazda, but dashes the string sharply downwards to his left when mentioning Ariman, quote, may Avramazda be Lord and Ariman unprevailing, keeping far away smitten and defeated, unquote. The Yashna ceremony energizes the Zoroastrian belief and Asha. Both the physical and environment and spiritual state are energized daily in a complex ritual, but the Yashna is very complex. Its holistic vision needed to be explained not just in a long liturgical ritual, but to every Zoroastrian in his daily routine. Every man or woman who walks the path of truth has to realize that each aspect of being has a spiritual co-worthy of protection. It is this daily protection, sorry, that the kasti ritual provides as sacred armor. Each Zoroastrian is a soldier of truth, not wearing battle armor, but sacred armor in defense of harmony and against evil. This armor accompanies a Zoroastrian in all life-cycle rituals. The Agharni, eighth month ceremony for pregnancy, birth and post-birth ceremonies each have a definite role for the sacred garments. The maturity of a child, Yad Jhangir, the maturity of a child is celebrated at the Naujot or new birth into life as a Zoroastrian. From this time onwards, each child takes on responsibility for his or her thoughts, words, and deeds for the rest of life. In a celebration, secondary only to marriage, the initiate undergoes an ahaan, a ritual bath of purification, choose pomegranate leaves symbolic of immortality, taste, tarot, bull's urine, which cleanses from within. There are lots of stories about this. The silva says the divo, the lamp, the fire are all secondary. The main center of the ceremony is the putting on of the sacred garments. The priest leads the child as they recite the dinno kalmoa confession of faith. As they recite the anuvar, the atyavaryo, at the word shothen anam, the priest ceremoniously makes the celebrant wear the sacred sadra. Thus, invested with the garment of the good mind, the main ceremony begins. Child and priest in ritual pivand recite aloud the kasti bastan or avramazda khudai prayer. Upon the words manashni, gavashni, gunashni, the priest and child make two interconnected loops. According to oral tradition, this gestures to remind the initiate of the two interdependent worlds, physical and spiritual. Upon the words nothra avramazdao, the priest and circling the kasti twice around the child's waist makes two reef knots. The avangon is complete. Finally, the fravarane or declaration of faith is recited. When holding onto the sacred girdle, the child declares jasme avangamazda, his allegiance to the Zoroastrian din. Marriage is a sacrament when new sacred garments are worn by the bride and groom to signify the new life they're entering upon together. So they symbolically put on new kastis. A special sadra, you can't see it here, unfortunately, hand stitched by the bride or her mother, richly decorated recently with handmade lace is proudly worn by the girl under her white wedding sari. Henceforth, husband and wife are soldiers marching together on the path of truth. Finally, at death, the sacred armor is a human's only material accompaniment into the spiritual world. Either at the dakhma or at the aramka, after the final nahan bath of purification, the body is dressed only in old sadras if you don't believe in wasting anything, after which kasti prayers are recited by family members. A family member then ties an old kasti around the body. In this way, the sacred armor protects the material body for one last time. Just as the yashna has intricate symbolic details accompanying its ritual, the sadra kasti too are invested with deep symbolism. The sadra is a loose white muslin tunic with very short sleeves. The dhadhisthani dinik emphasizes it must be, quote, perfectly pure white and single with one fold because vahumana, the good mind, which is innermost, is also the one creature who was first. The sadra is made of cotton fiber, unquote. The sadra is made of cotton fiber, represents the plant world. The nine parts of the sadra symbolically represent the 9,000 years allegorically, the time span of this world. Thank you, Khudeste, I've used your picture. The most important part of the sadra is the gireban, literally that which preserves the not all loyalty to the religion. Also known as the kisei kerefe, the purse of righteousness. It is in the form of a one square inch bag of purse which rests just here above the heart. It indicates that a man should fill his purse not just with money, but also with righteousness. Over the years, a sadra has undergone a metamorphosis worn originally as a symbol of identity. It was clearly visible, particularly in women's clothing in India. Today, except on religious occasions, it is absolutely hidden. It has been reduced considerably in length. Many women in particular have eliminated the sleeves. It is often tucked or folded, but the gireban remains. And each Zoroastrian child is taught how he or she must fill the pocket of good deeds with at least one good deed daily towards fellow man or fellow creation. The word kasti, now I turn to that, may come from the palvikust direction or side, or that which points out the right way. Combining with the sudre, sudrastha, to create both the good path and direction finder, these garments tell us Zoroastrian how to proceed on the path of life. Wearing the kasti, according to the Dajisthani Dinek becomes, quote, a token and sign of worship. Of great assistance is this belt, which is called the kustik, that which is tied on the middle of the body, unquote. It helps, quote, keep thought word indeed confined from sin. It protects all creation, quote, for the destroyer faced the barricade and rampart of the girdle of good works, quote. The star-studded girdle terrifies demons and fiends. One is to gird it in the neighborhood of the heart and in the middle of the body, quote. So also the place of the sacred thread girdle is between, below and above, unquote. The moderation and balance that the kasti brings is highlighted because this makes it the area of harmony between lower and upper. The six strands are supposed to symbolize the six gambars or seasonal festivals, according to the Dajisthani Dinek. The 12 threads in each strand symbolize the 12 months, as well as some say the 12 words of the Hashem Vau Mantra. The 24 threads in each string symbolize the 24 kardaks or sections of the Visperad. And the 72 threads, as I said, symbolize the 72 haas of the Yashna. Oral tradition, surprisingly or unsurprisingly, recorded from the weavers are very similar to the sacred texts. The weavers tell us the kasti has two layers with a hollow middle. The layers represent earth and sky. The hollow part is this atmosphere, which we must protect. After weaving the kasti is turned inside out with a very complex process, symbolizing that we have come into this world for the sake of the other world, we have to go back with our work complete. The kasti basically shows us that we should walk the middle path. The four reef knots remember the creator who is one, Zoroastrianism the true religion, Zarathushra the prophet sent by God, and the wearer who must perform good deeds. The Sardar speaks of the knots in this way. Quote, the first knot is that which preserves constancy. The second gives attestation that it is a good religion of the Mazda worshippers. The third knot gives attestation to the mission of the just Zarathushra spittama. The fourth knot is that which gives assurance that I should think, do and speak of good, speak of good, do good. The kasti is made up of lambs wool or white camels here. This is a picture from Iran. Dr. Mehrbano Bhaktiari is sitting with a weaver and the hair, the wool is at the bottom over here. It represents the animal world as white wool is considered an emblem of innocence and purity. This reminds us Zoroastrian of the purity always has to observe. Wool being a good absorbent is believed to capture positive vibrations caused by prayer, myth and weaving techniques fit in because you cannot use cotton in a hot climate to weave, it breaks too often. And when a kasti is broken, you cannot wear it because except for the reef knots, a kasti cannot have any knotting nor can it be stitched. The kasti loom or saal, this is Navsari, has was always a very important part of the Zoroastrian household. While richer homes had kastis made to order, the finer the better. In the late 19th and early 20th century, Parsi schools across India, be it the Sir J.J.'s primary school, Malesar Navsari or Gamadia School Bombay, Hail Sadra and Kasti making classes. Many Parsi's in Gujarat recall the Gandhian Barjorjee Framji Bharucha of Navsari, who in the 1930s and 40s ran, I quote, BFB classes in Kasti and Sadra making. And I'm quoting from K.T. Surabji Patel, a lady who you will see soon. BFB classes treated Kasti weaving and Sadra making as developmental activities and were precursors of the cottage industry movement of India. We learned Kasti weaving at Parsi school, the BFB Mahila Vishram classes in Motta Falya Navsari or Udyog, Udyog means development. K.T. died very recently, but till she died, she made her living by weaving kastis. Today, there's a resurgence of pride in the ability to weave a kasti. It is a craft, I hope thanks to Parazore, recognized again for its skill and dexterity across the weaving fraternity. Please understand, when you complain about buying a kasti for 800 rupees, it is one of the most difficult weaves because the weaver has to make a narrow, long hollow tube varying from three to six yards in length with just half an inch in width of 72 threads. The average Kasti being four and a half yards is called a Mapani Kasti, measured Kasti. In India, only lambswool is used and it's now imported from Australia by the BPP in shrink proof bundles called Farah. Earlier, women from the priestly class alone wove Kastis due to diminishing boundaries between the Athornans and Bedins. All women weave Kastis now, if they can, for economic benefit. So, the spinning or un-kartwanu, I'll explain, actually it goes backwards, this is the wool, this is the chattat day, with the two chattat days and then you go on to what she's holding in her hand, the big spindle, the chattat dough. The spinning or un-kartwanu is the first step in making the Kasti. Most women start the process with a little prayer. It is spun into fine yarn with the help of a chattat day or drop spindle. Two spindles of the yarn are twisted together to form a yarn called Dari. And the process of double plying is known as valdewanu and it's done on the chattat dough or the bigger spindle. Even today, you will see women effortlessly spinning and chatting away with their neighbors in Navsari. Some women only specialize in providing yarn to the weaver. According to a very admirable old custom, the spinner gives the weaver enough yarn for two Kastis. The weaver in turn, after weaving, gives one Kasti back to the spinner and keeps one for her own sale so no money is exchanged in making the sacred thread. This is a very interesting group of photos taken by Hemant of Mahata. This is Keti Saurabhji Patel starting her weaving in the Navsari Old People's home. She's showing you the wool. She's sitting on the loom. She's using the kateli. Just look at the intricacy with which she's weaving the things together and this is the final Kasti. The actual process is carried out on the loom or jantar. This long loom which you have seen is called the Junnu jantar or old jantar and it's still used in Iran as you saw weaving while sitting on the floor. In India, it was modified, parses like their comforts and a stool added so it became the Ghoduwali jantar or the rideable jantar which allowed a weaver to sit comfortably. Used in India even today, it has been gradually replaced by a modern adaptation from around 1930s, the new jantar which is flexible, next picture please and can be folded into smaller homes of the 20th century. This is in Delhi when we held a demonstration of Kasti weaving at the India International Center and this is Arnav from Navsari showing you the new jantar which she'd carried with her and it completely folds into a small bit. The 72 warp threads are stretched in a continuous circle for weaving and kept in tension by pulleys. An additional adjustable pulley or gargari is hung on the warp to help the process of weaving. The actual process is rhythmic. The naru or veft is passed with one hand, the yarn beaten with a kateli and only after years of practice can a weaver master the exact hook or force required while weaving. This is the gargari, the two types of pulleys and this is the kateli. At the end of the weaving the kasti is removed in a complete loop. It's handed over to a priest. To consecrate the kasti, the priest recites a nirang and at the Yathavaryo Mantra's word shothenanam he cuts the kasti into two parts. Next please. On completing the arnavar, he recites in bhaj. It's a pressed voice. The brief paaz and formula sarosha shatagi, tan farman and completes the bhaj. While for the cutting of the loop the priest used an ivory knife and those weavers who sent the kasti to a priest usually prayed a small token fee or sagan. Today this practice has disappeared. The weavers cut it themselves and then the kasti is turned inside out with the help of this very thin needle. It's an extremely difficult task. It's unbelievable because they have to pass this needle through the entire six yards and if the needle touches even one of the threads the entire kasti has to be discarded. It's the most difficult thing you can ever imagine. This the kasti otulvano is the most difficult part and finally if any thread is loose the kasti has to be discarded. This symbolically shows how our work in this world affects our spiritual progress and requires focused attention. Most women heave a great sigh of relief when the needle comes out at the other end because they know the kasti is ready for completion. Next please. The loose threads are large as we have read in the pelvitex are divided and plaited to create a tubular finish and the final stages of washing and the kasti is placed on a muslin cloth with a small vessel containing smoldering coal and a pinch of sulphur which bleaches the kasti is known as dhupvano. It is then wound pressed and ready to become the girdle of faith. Parsis as stated at the beginning were people without borders. Today hardly any community has been spared the positive and negative impacts of a global society. Paradoxically globalization and migration to economically greener pastures seems to be leading to a need to preserve identity. It is a perplexing time. The Baman years had predicted this exact word a perplexing time when I quote there will be only one in a hundred in a thousand in a myriad who believes when earth will rain more noxious creatures and water when the waters of rivers and springs will diminish there will be no increase. At this time quote those noble great and charitable will part from their own original place and family and the earth of spendamal opens its mouth wide and suffering death and destitution becomes severe unquote but spent our earth can be protected. It will find hope in quote he who in that perplexing time wears a sacred thread girdle on the waist and celebrates religious rights with the sacred tweaks. As in the microcosm so in the cosmic world mental and physical darkness can be overcome by the protective use of sacred armor. I'll just finish. In the modern world it seems fashionable to discard rituals and symbols as unnecessary for spiritual growth. The threads of continuity that kept the Zoroastrian faith intact from the Bronze Age are being very lightly discarded. Yet those who continue to keep the faith recite the Nirangikasti of protection will with this and the strength of the Yashna sacrifice restore Asha the law of harmony. They are promised a happy reward. Yashna 46 who so through Asha fully doth achieve the renovation of our life on earth which is Zarathustra's task Aura's will. He gains eternal life as his reward. He shall inherit all that earth confers Mazda most wise has thus to me revealed. When one studies how the Kastiyan sadra link with the entire process of protecting all creation the true significance of the simple daily ritual becomes apparent. A hidden garment has become a metaphor for an in us self that remains unaffected by external change. It is this search for a core identity which prompts young Zoroastrians to accept or reject the sacred armor. Perhaps an understanding of its symbolic and technical intricacies will bring a new respect for the weavers and priests who have so quietly woven together the warp and wift of the Zoroastrian community. Thank you. Good afternoon. I'd like to begin by thanking the organizers and the sponsors for giving us all the possibility to be here together for these past two days. And I'd like to thank all of you for sticking it out this far. You're almost there. As the only Persian speaking former Soviet country since gaining independence in 1991 Tajikistan has drawn heavily on symbols of Iranian culture in its attempt to build a distinct national identity. The 10th century poet Rudaki and his empire building patron Esmael Salmani have been held up as founding fathers of the Tajik nation. A third historical figure claimed by Tajiks is Zarathustra, considered the originator of the ancient Zoroastrian religion. It has now been 10 years since UNESCO accepted a proposal from Tajik president Imam Ali Rahman to declare 2003 the 3,000th year of Zoroastrian culture. It is interesting to ponder the esteemed organization's decision to affirm a date which continues to be so hotly contested by scholars as well as, at least by implication, the dubious notion that the modern state of Tajikistan holds some special claim to the heritage of Zoroastrianism. Since neither the time nor the place of Zoroaster's life can be resolved here, we will instead focus on the way Zoroastrianism has been used in contemporary efforts to construct a Tajik national identity. The term Tajik itself has unclear origins and has undergone many semantic transformations over time. It is used today primarily to distinguish the Persian speakers of Central Asia from the Turkic speaking majority, but this usage owes much to the rather forced efforts of Soviet idealists in the 1920s to create distinct national identities out of what were in many cases very heterogeneous and often multilingual populations. As an elderly informant told Soviet sociologist O.A. Sukharova during the 1950s, quote, before 1926, no one ever asked us whether we were Tajiks or Uzbeks, unquote. In fact, Central Asian urban centers were historically cosmopolitan and multilingual and linguistic identity was often contextual rather than absolute. For example, Persian was usually the prestige language of choice for literary as well as administrative purposes even though much of the population did not speak it as a native tongue. And while Iranian languages such as Sogdian dominated Central Asia in ancient times, they were members of the East Iranian linguistic branch whereas Tajiki originated from a West Iranian language, Persian, which was brought to the region during the early Islamic period or perhaps a bit earlier. The oldest Iranian languages surviving in Tajikistan today such as Yagnabi or the Pamiri tongues are not mutually intelligible with Tajiki even though their speakers are often referred to as Tajiks. On the other hand, in neighboring countries such as Uzbekistan and Afghanistan, the term Tajik tends to refer to native speakers of Persian although some Persian speaking groups such as Hazaras are not considered Tajiks. Given the ambiguities of identity among Central Asians in the early 20th century, the process of creating a national republic for Tajiks was highly problematic and its final outcome owed more to politics than to linguistic or ethnic realities. When Tajikistan was created first as an autonomous region within Uzbekistan in 1924 and then as a full Soviet republic in 1929, the two largest Tajik speaking cities Samarkand and Bukhara were excluded and remained in Uzbekistan an act that Tajiks refer to as a deliberate cultural beheading. Soviet Tajik ideologs such as Sardin Aini and Babajan Zafurov awkwardly transpose the totality of Persian speaking cultural history not just that of Samarkand and Bukhara but even that of Iran proper onto the soil of the small poor mountainous soil of the Tajik Soviet Socialist Republic with the result that everything from the 10th century Bukhara based Samanid empire to the classical poetry of Shirazi poets Sadian Hafiz became Tajik. Following the Soviet pattern of disregard for historical geography, it is perhaps easier to understand how contemporary Tajik leaders most of whom after all were raised within the Soviet system and our products of it can justify claiming Zoroaster as one of their own. It is probably best to look at Tajik efforts to associate their country with Zoroastrianism in this light that is to say in the sense of their feeling of identification with Iranian-ness in general in a general overarching sense rather than as an anachronistic attempt to claim Zoroaster as a Tajik prophet even though such attempts have sometimes been made. Official initiatives within Tajikistan to associate their country with Zoroastrianism were seen immediately following independence from the Soviet Union in 1991. Within a matter of months, the Tajikistan Academy of Sciences held an event they called the First Avesta World Conference. Several Parsis from India attended and reciprocated by inviting a number of prominent Tajiks to visit Zoroastrian sites in India. In December 1992, a delegation of 40 Tajiks led by Prime Minister Abdul Malik Abdul Adjanov accepted the invitation. Addressing the Indian Merchants Chamber in Bombay, Abdul Adjanov reportedly stated that, quote, I could have taken my first official visit of my minister's cabinet to any country in the world, Europe, Germany, USA. I brought them to India because our Zoroastrian brothers and sisters live here, unquote. Amidst a civil war which raged in Tajikistan throughout the mid-1990s, a second Avesta World Conference was held in 1996. In 2001, a third conference was held, celebrating 10 years of Tajik independence. On the occasion of this third conference, several Tajik scholars and their families underwent the said Rupushi ritual to become Zoroastrians. The first formal Zoroastrian association in Tajikistan, the Anjumanifarhangi-Azar-Hoshtian-Tajikistan, was officially registered in 1998. UK-based Tajik journalist Daryush Rajabyan characterizes this group as, quote, a small circle of Tajik intelligentsia interested in Zoroastrian teachings and principles, unquote. A more explicitly religious organization, which many members of the former association joined, was founded in 2000 by Rudaki Behtin Samadov, under the name Anjumane Mazdayasna. Members of this latter group received instruction from Zoroastrian priests brought in from Sweden, who conducted a number of said Rupushis. Anjumane Mazdayasna's activities included offering classes in Avestan and Pahlavi, organizing Zoroastrian celebrations, such as Mehragan and Sadeh, and running a weekly radio show called Mazdayasna. In 2001, they printed the first edition of the Gathas in the Cyrillic alphabet. Anjumane Mazdayasna's founder, Rudaki Behtin, wrote a play entitled Thus Spake Zarathustra, which was staged in Doshanbe in 2002. Tajik president Emom Ali Rahman, a former Soviet apparatchik whose power has been largely uncontested since the end of the Civil War in 1997, makes frequent mention of Zoroastrianism in his book, Tajiks in the Mirror of History. Quote, my thoughts go back to Zarathustra, he writes wistfully, who created the immortal Avesta, the first prophet of the Tajiks, whose trace on earth has not been erased by the dust of millennia and the ashes left by countless bloody wars, unquote. Rahman asserts that Zoroastrian ethics have influenced him throughout his life. As he writes, from history books and from old Tajik Persian literature, I had already obtained certain knowledge about Zarathustra, not infrequently in those hard times I recited in my mind his call for goodness and thoughts, words and deeds. During the authoritarian regime, when it became common practice that all the works in a collective farm, be it livestock breeding, sowing, harvesting or renovation of the premises, were ordered by the commanding voice of the chairman, the wisdom of Zarathustra's precepts quite often saved me from acting in a manner which otherwise I would have afterwards deeply regretted. At other moments, when I was about to lose my temper and let some rude word escape my lips, the precepts of Zarathustra and some of the other famous sons of the nation would always help me to regain my composure. More than anything in the Zoroastrian religion, I remember the deep reverence for the earth and water and a great respect for farming and cultivation of the land. Later on, when studying the book, the Tajiks, by Babajan Gafurov, especially the chapters of the book devoted to ancient historical events, I was repeatedly impressed by the humanistic essence and wisdom of Zarathustra's teaching, end quote. In a related effort to appropriate the past, Rahman has promoted the Persian New Year, Noruz, which was banned under the Soviets until the 1960s as an indigenous Tajik holiday. His government has constructed a massive Noruz assembly hall in the center of Doshanbe where the celebrations seem to get bigger every year. Noruz is now a week-long national holiday in Tajikistan. The Tajik flag bears an arc of seven stars, which some say are meant to represent the Amishas spentas. And the government-online news agency is called Avesta, as is a major Doshanbe hotel. Inspired by the Tajik government's use of Zoroastrian symbols and constructing a national identity, a number of Zoroastrians from India to North America have heralded what they see as a quote, Zoroastrian revival, unquote, in Tajikistan. Promenam, among these, is Mumbai-based Parsi activist, Mayor Master Moose, who accords to the Tajiks, quote, the lands of Bactria and Balth and Sogdia, which are the lands of the Avesta, unquote. Across the world in Boston, Massachusetts, Iranian Zoroastrian academic Farhang Mech states that, quote, the Tajikese are so proud that Zarathustra was born in Khorazan, a city now located in their country, and rightly considerate part of their identity. For those of you who haven't studied Central Asian Geography, Khorazan is not a city and it's not in Tajikistan. In Vancouver, Canada, another Iranian Zoroastrian, Faribor's Rahnamun, has reported glowingly on a visit to Tajikistan and Uzbekistan in 2006, on the occasion of the year of Aryan civilization, Saleh Tamadone Arya'i, you can see President Rahmanov with his wonderful Aryan symbols from Persepolis, also not in Tajikistan, where he witnessed several Cedripushi ceremonies. Nevertheless, notwithstanding the excitement President Rahman's positive rhetoric has generated among some Zoroastrians, it would be a mistake to read too much into his words. Although he fears political Islam as an opposition force, Rahman has not hesitated to assert his identity as a Sunni Muslim when it suits his purposes, and in 1997 he actually performed the Hajj to Mecca. Any affinity he might feel towards Zoroastrianism would therefore seem to be at best cultural and may in fact be largely political. The political dimension of President Rahman's pro-Zoroastrian stand has not been lost on his Islamist opponents. Rudaki Behtin, the founder of the Anjumane Mazda Yasna who actively encouraged Tajiks to convert to Zoroastrianism was assassinated in June 2001 during a period when the Tajik government was playing up Zoroastrianism as part of the celebrations commemorating 10 years of Tajik independence. His killer, possibly an Islamic radical, was never caught. A few months later, the Tajik Minister of Culture, Abdul Rahim Rahimov, who had spoken publicly in favor of Zoroastrianism on many occasions was also assassinated. Given the timing of these murders, it is difficult not to see them as part of a violent reaction against the Tajik government's attempt to promote Zoroastrian identity as a bulwark against the political Islam that was popular in the country. According to journalist Dariyush Rajabiyan, himself a Tajik and professed Zoroastrian, the assassination of Behtin in particular appears to have had the desired effect since the Anjuman and Mazda Yasna went underground soon afterward. A book published in 2003 by a Tajik cleric entitled The Quintessence of Zoroastrianism denigrated the religion and was enthusiastically supported by Tajikistan's Muslim leadership. Clearly, by this point, efforts to bring about a Zoroastrian revival in Tajikistan had become politicized, swept up amidst tensions between the regime and an opposition which tends to articulate itself in terms of Islam. While familiarity with Zoroastrian concepts can be seen among some of Tajikistan's intellectual elite, few, if any, actually embrace the faith in any practical way, seeing it merely as a part of their pre-Islamic cultural heritage. Among the general population, meanwhile, any consciousness of Zoroastrianism as an element of Tajik identity seems to be mostly absent. Indeed, much to the contrary, Tajikistan seems to be undergoing a steady Islamic revival. When we visited during the month of Ramadan last year, almost everyone we met was quietly keeping the fast. This was observable at all levels of society. Thus, as both a nation-building strategy and as a buttress against political Islam, efforts by the Tajik government to promote Zoroastrianism would appear to have proven a failure. Correspondingly, claims by individual Zoroastrians that their religion is undergoing a revival on Tajikistan are based on anecdotal evidence centering on a small number of individuals and are most probably a case of wishful thinking. This is not to say that discussing the association between Tajikistan and Zoroastrianism is unimportant, but this importance is more historical than contemporary. Recent conversions by a few Tajik Muslims aside, Tajikistan does not seem to have any surviving indigenous Zoroastrian community. Though as is the case throughout the Muslim world, some pre-Islamic rituals survive in Tajik villages. The evidence connecting Central Asia, including the territory of modern Tajikistan to the life of Zoroaster and parts of the Avesta is intriguing, though far from clear. Numerous archeological sites in Tajik territory, especially along the upper oxys basin, are claimed by some to be Zoroastrian. So far, the arguments to this effect have been inconclusive, but they certainly merit further investigation. The history of Zoroastrianism is full of unanswered questions, but there is no doubt that the lands and ancestors of the modern Tajiks play some part in it. So a few images. There's the Avesta Hotel. Those who can't read Cyrillic, Mehman Khaneye Avesta. It's not a very nice hotel, I regret to say. It's a Soviet model. There are nicer hotels in Doshanbe now. The Aga Khans is the nicest by far. This is a stamp that was issued in 2001 by the Tajik government, claiming to be Anahita. There's, I think, some discussion about, well, there's certainly a lot of goddess imagery. I'm not an art historian, but there's certainly a lot of goddess imagery to be found in relics discovered in Tajik territory. What the relationship is between Anahita and Nani, possibly other goddesses, not entirely clear, but as far as the Tajik government is concerned, it's Anahita, and she's on a postage stamp. This is one of the Cedric Pushi ceremonies that were performed in the city of Hojand in 2006. And here is a newly, what's the proper word? Newly initiated Nozart Hoshdi receiving instruction. This is the inside of the Nohruz Festival Hall during some of the Nohruz celebrations in the capital of Doshanbe. You can see that there's been a very clear attempt to draw inspiration from Persepolis, a Kemenid royal architecture. And I suppose perhaps I'm not an expert on a Kemenid costumes, but I suppose they're trying to evoke something of that as well. Here you see some girls on a parade float addressed in traditional Tajik outfits with their sabzi for waiting Cezda Bidar. This is a painting by one of the most successful living Tajik artists, Faroq Khojaev. When I say most successful, that is quite a relative term. He's, I don't think he considers himself successful at all, and he's living a rather tough life. Well, it's artists often live a tough life, but he's certainly not getting wealthy off of his work, but he has had some exhibitions in Europe and elsewhere outside of Tajikistan, and he is quite accomplished. We visited his atelier, and we noted that a number of his works have Zoroastrian themes, so I don't know if anybody picked this one out. This one is called Yellow Camel. This is one of the sites I mentioned that is now being trumpeted as a Zoroastrian site. It's in the upper ox's valley in Barakshan on the Tajik side of the river, and the locals refer to this as Galeye Otash Parastan. So obviously this is not something that Zoroastrians call themselves, but it seems to reflect some memory, at least in the local environment, that somehow Zoroastrians were associated with this site. But to my knowledge, and please correct me afterwards, let me know if you have any further information on this, but I'm not aware of any serious scholarly archeological work being done on this or other sites, but it certainly deserves to be done. But in the meantime, until such work is done, and until the results are published, we have very little to go on, except for a very glowing and enthusiastic essays by people saying, well, this is what was here, and this is what it is, and this is what its history is. These things all need to be verified, in my opinion. Here's another site which is claimed from the upper ox's, which is claimed to be a Zoroastrian site. So, yeah, that gives you an idea, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Thank you. Well, it sounds to me like you know a lot more than I do about the realities of Tajiks living in Russia. I haven't been to Russia in over 20 years, so I'm not at all up to date on the situation there, so I can only guess. I mean, my answer doesn't carry any authority in that respect, but I would guess that because they're not in physical danger the way they might be in Tajikistan. My sense is that there was a fair amount of enthusiasm in Tajikistan for this sort of rediscovery of pre-Islamic identity up until these assassinations 10 years ago, and that since then, it's died down quite considerably. So obviously, in an environment where that hasn't happened, where they haven't been through that kind of trauma and aren't living in fear, it could be much closer to what we see amongst the Iranian diaspora of people from Iran. I wouldn't say that it's necessarily always political. I mean, I know lots of Iranian Nozartoshti Ha that are quite serious about the spiritual aspect of Zoroastrianism, and that may be the case for some Tajiks as well. Okay, Professor Grenier, Mike is coming. Just a few words about the archeological issue. You showed that castle Kalaïa Tejparaston. I agree completely that that kind of toponymy is, is, in fact, is quite widespread. In the Upper Zerafshan, we have Kalaï Navrushan, Kalaïe Mugh, the site of Pengekent was actually called Mugh Pengekent, but it of course reflects a perception, a remembrance in Islamic times that Zoroastrianism had been the predominant religion of the region, but it doesn't mean at all that the Kalaïa Tejparaston, for example, was a fire temple. It's just a general reminiscence of a true historical reality, which was the presence of Zoroastrianism in the region until the Islamic conquest up to a date which is difficult to establish. It seems that actually the last written testimonies we have of communities claiming openly to be Zoroastrians comes from Bad Arshan in the 13th century. That's all we can say. As for the last monument you show, the Stepped Terrace, I think I know this monument. It is actually a Buddhist stupa which was atrociously restored and in order, maybe, purposefully, in order to make it look like an Iranian Stepped Fire altar. Mm-hmm, yes. Yeah, I would agree with your clarifications. Thank you. Thank you very much. Any other questions? Yes, please. It would be interesting with cultural roots in India and we have heard over the last two days what a small microscopic community we are with our traditions, rites, rituals, et cetera. When you showed us a photograph of a grown-up woman going through an abjude ceremony, it makes odd in our mind, how is this possible? And so, do you think the movement that is taking place in places like Khajikistan is hijacking Zoroastrianism? That would not be appropriate for me to issue an opinion on that. These are internal community issues that are properly addressed within the community. Okay, thank you. Any other questions? Yes, please, Professor Diyong. A question for Shanaskama, who I can barely see. I'm sure you know that the Zoroastrians are not the only community to wear a kusti. Yes. The Mandians also wear one, at least when they perform rituals, but compared to, sorry. The Mandians also wear the kusti when they perform their rituals, but compared to the Parsi kusti, it's absolutely huge. And I've been told that when the Iranis came to Mumbai in the 19th century, their kustis too were rope-thick. So, when did this very slender technique and model of the kusti, is this an Indian tradition? Would you know anything about the history? Yeah, I'll tell you a little bit. You saw the same loom, and I have a lot of pictures from Iran, because we've studied kusti weaving in Iran also. Basically, the difference is that Iran nowadays uses camel wool. So, it becomes thicker and rougher. Whereas we use, in India, we use a lambswool, okay? But the weaving and the methodology of the old loom, the old sal, is exactly the same. And the finer the kusti, the more difficult it is to weave, so the more expensive it is. Therefore, at a certain time in Iran, kustis were kept hanging outside the agari doors so that people could just wear the kusti to go inside because they couldn't afford to buy a kusti. So, essentially, the finesse has been lost in Iran and has been improved upon in India. That's the sort of thing. Otherwise, the weaving technique is identical. Thank you. Thank you very much. Yes, there is a question up there, and then Ruzi. Yes, just a moment, please, Ruzi. First, we have got someone else. Yes? Hi, I have a kusti-related question as well. You mentioned that previously women from priestly families were the weavers of kustis, but now that is not necessarily the case. A bit of a two-fold question. One, when did that change start occurring and were there any problems with that or was it just kind of a gradual occurrence and it just became generally accepted? And two, I'm curious if there's any kind of either practice-based or prescription-based issues? Why? Is there a problem if a man wanted to become a kusti-weaver? In your knowledge, has there ever been men-kusti-weavers? And I ask this because I'm sure that men have and are involved in perhaps other textile aspects of the culture. So that's where the question is coming from. In fact, historically we do hear that priests initially used to weave the kusti, but there's absolutely no written proof for that. This is just oral tradition. The amazing part for me is that Zoroastrians have always been very... Zoroastrian men have always been very great weavers and both in Iran and the Tanchoi weaver of Gujarat, it's always the men. So how did the women only weave this sacred thread is something which I would really like to explore further. The second question about how did it shift from the Bedin, from the Athornan families to the Bedin, it has been in the last about 30 years because I remember in childhood only women from the Dastur or the Athornan class spinning and weaving. But as education improved and as women went into other fields, there were so few people when we started this research weaving the kusti that we were really worried about how this art would survive, this craft and art would survive. And the person who did the fieldwork from the textiles is a boy, a Parsi boy from the NID, National Institute of Design in Amdabad. So at least if anybody else goes, we said we'll have Ashdina to weave everybody's kusti. But essentially it was a gradual shift and because it became a shift away from the Athornan families, this whole tradition over the last 30 years of giving a Sagan, a small gift to the priest developed because otherwise you wove the kusti, you caught hold of any priest in your household and you said please do the Kapwano and the Otulwano. So that was done. But now over the last 30 years, yes, they did take it across. Over the last five years in fact, the women have stopped going to the priest because there are so few priests left in Nafsari itself and they're also busy, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. So the women themselves cut it. They don't use the ivory knife any longer but the ivory knife is still kept with the priest and the priestly families still use the ivory knife for cutting. There is, yes please, Ruzi Talal. It's down here at the microphone. What was that? Ruzi Talal. Oh, Ruzi. Oh God. This is aimed at shayana, if I may have some more authenticity of a statement that it's a property that stopped her from wearing the kusti because I feel that kustis were in fact, the Zoroastrians themselves stopped wearing the kusti because that was used against them by the Islamic culture of sometimes even using the kusti to harm the Zoroastrians and that is where the tradition of not wearing the kusti in order to hide their identity as a Zoroastrian totally opposed to the parties of India where they were quite proud to be able to show their identity and from that point of view how authentic your statement is there's only the poverty that stopped Iran. It was not only the poverty, definitely poverty and oppression is interlinked and but one of the reasons was because it was just so difficult to obtain kustis at a certain time in Tehran. I'm talking about the late 50s, early 60s. So we do have people who have given us oral documentation about why they did not wear it and why it was hung outside the door and then they would put it on and go inside. The second point is that in India, please remember that when we came to India we were very much, we had to stay very much within the caste system. So at one level while it linked us with the upper caste Brahmin who wore the Janoi, on the other hand it was also a way of differentiating between us and the other and that's what I was talking about in my paper. So the garment was worn outside. It was very obvious that you were a Parsi woman and a Parsi man because you wore the topi, you wore the Jamo or you wore your particular clothes. So there was a definite system of costume which was linked to caste and not just class. It was caste and it's much later that you began putting your caste and sadra away and this is something which you, I mean you still see it outside only during religious occasions especially where women are concerned. So it's part of the different social environment in which the Zathushtis of Iran lived and the different social environment in which the Parsis of India lived. Thank you. We have time for just one last question. Shaheen Bikhrat, yeah? Loud. Right, is that one, yes. In Iran, we have an institution called the Purchistar Foundation in Yazd and it's been going for about 10 years now, 12 years and they did revive Kushdi weaving. They found in Yazd the last carpenter who knew how to make the Kushdi loom and he was the one who actually reintroduced the weaving back to the ladies in whose institution, which we are sponsoring, which we started in fact to teach young Zoroastrian women the skills that were dying out. So I'm pleased to say that the Zoroastrian women of Yazd are also making Kushdis and they are in great demand all over the world including Europe, where a lot of new Zoroastrians are taking up the symbolic equipment as you call it, the defense mechanisms. I would also like to say that they are made of lambs wool, not camels wool these days. I don't know at what time you investigated but it's lambs wool today. And I would also like to further add that the issue of not wearing the Kushdi or the sedra has nothing to do with fear because I for example, and in many of my contemporaries we all had our sedra push it a time in Iran when the Pahlavi dynasty did not pose any reason for us to fear. But even in my mother's time, she was a midwife, she was a nurse, she had to wear a uniform and she said that although she was a daughter of a priest her father gave her his permission to not wear her Kushdi because it simply sometimes came undone or trailed and it was unprofessional for her to have that sort of thing happening. So it was not out of fear, but out of this pragmatism. And just as your ladies in Bombay made today not have to show or want to hide it away, they just wear it but they don't have to show it. In Iran at a certain point it was just a pragmatic decision. It didn't make them any less religious, it didn't make them have any less entitlement to call themselves a Zoroastrian, it was just a matter of habit and pragmatism. So I thought I would like to add that because there has been very little talk about Iranian Zoroastrianism and what is happening in Iran today. So I thought some of you at least might be interested to know that Zoroastrianism is still alive, does still get practiced. Although it is of course not as perhaps as widespread as we would like it to be because there are hardships and difficulties that pressurize people to leave Iran. But nevertheless it is happening and the Kushdi is live and well. Thank you. Thank you very much. Well on this happy note let us thank all our speakers of this afternoon session. Thank you. Well ladies and gentlemen, we've got to the end and I have to say this has been a remarkable couple of days. For me personally I've just witnessed because I haven't been organising this exhibition. I assure you Sarah has done all that with her colleagues and I have only from my desk been organising the conference not like Sarah running around organising it more physically. But I'm very pleased we've got here to the end not because I wanted it to pass but because this is quite an unusual event in the academy. First of all to share a conference between the general public, I'm sorry to call you that, and academics. And as you've seen and heard some very specialised academics. So to have an academic cum lay, so to speak, conference is an unusual thing and SOAS is very fortunate to be able, we are very fortunate to be able to use SOAS for this event and Sarah is involved in organising regular things in Iranian studies like this. But the other thing is it's unusual to have a conference which is entirely plenary. That is it's all that all the sessions are plenary held in one arena rather than hiving off. I've just come back from a conference in Sarajevo where the conference splits up at every opportunity into six, eight panels. And the inevitable result of course is that you missed what you really want to divide your split because you want to go to more than one panel at the same time and I can't do that yet, although I'm working on it. So the first thing I have to do because there is, I shouldn't say an elephant in the room but there is somebody missing. I've rarely been to a conference on Zoroastrianism where John Hinnells has not been present. And unfortunately he wasn't able to come to the conference this week. And he's actually sent a message which if I can find it, I will. Yes. Well, we did try to persuade John to come. It was very difficult for him to come in the end for various reasons. As you know, he doesn't suffer the best of health. But he kindly sent, he did send an abstract and he was intending to come but in the end we agreed he'd send a message to the conference. So this is the message from John Hinnells. By the way, I've known John Hinnells for decades and decades since he was my boss for 10 years at Manchester University. So I have many memories of John and so I'm very pleased to read this message to you. He says, I'm sorry that I can only be with you in spirit today but I've just moved from Cambridge to Oxford to be nearer my family and my books, papers and files are still in storage so I can't get to them to write a paper. I regret this very much because studying historical memory is very important in understanding diasporas and their identities. Migrant's memory of places, people, customs, practices, values, social issues and networks and so on all shape the individual and communal identity. Of course, people have different, different people have different memories maintained through various prisms according to the country of birth and upbringing. For example, Zoroastrians who've migrated from Iran will have different memories from those from Mumbai, Pakistan, East Africa or those brought up in the West. People can vary not only due to a different country of birth but also according to their trajectory of life wherever they may be, according to family ties, different types of education and careers. In short, there's many, many factors affecting people's memories, ties and identity formation. Memories are substantially affected by events and conditions that impact on individuals as they go through life and according to a person's life history and their important relationships, these memories fashion different identities. A balanced analysis will consider these and many other factors that impact because memories aren't fixed or static, affected as they are by one's physical, social and emotional environment. An individual's memory of say Bombay or Yazd will be colored by experiences felt long after the homeland has been left, colored by the people one mixes with and by an individual's own life experiences. The memories which fashion and affect identity are therefore multiple, complex but hugely important. The identities which are formed and interpreted by a history of personal and communal experiences require not only a sophisticated but also the most sensitive study. Thank you, John Hinnells. Well, that's my first duty. I've been given the enviable or unenviable job of winding up or wrapping up but what I'm not going to do is to repeat everything to you. You'll be glad to hear. I went to a conference recently where one of our PhD students had typed up the proceedings of the contents of every single paper and read it out very fast, intercalated with interspersed with his own slightly sarcastic remarks which didn't please the speakers one little bit. I'm not going to do that. A symposium or a conference like this is a bit like a banquet. I mean, we have had 18 courses, some of them longer than others, some of them full length courses and I don't know how you are feeling. Those of you who've eaten all the 18 courses, I'm feeling a bit stuffed, I have to say, in the nicest possible way. We've also been entertained splendidly last night by the Zoroastrian community of London in North London, so physically and intellectually. So what I've got to say isn't to thank everybody, and certainly it's not self-congratulation on the part of Sarah and me and Almut and the others who've been involved, but rather, first of all, to thank you for attending because I have been to conferences where there's been almost no attendance and just the speakers talking to one another. It's very important to have you here, however well or badly you think of us at the end of it all. So thank you for coming and for the energy you've given back to the podium. You notice it when you're up here. An attentive audience like a Zoroast audience gives energy to the speakers. Well, Sarah's been cooking something else downstairs and as you know, there's this massive, if this is a banquet, what is it going on downstairs? It's going to be in the oven for the next few months so you have to come back because I don't think you can take it all in in one go. I certainly couldn't, especially the other night when we speakers saw it, there was a very large crowd of people at the opening. I do hope you can spend time quietly with the exhibition because it has some of the most wonderful treasures there. It is very closely connected to the conference and I only regret that we didn't ask the speakers to mention, as they were going through their papers, just what is down there for you to go and look at soon after you've heard these papers. But let me just run through what you can see. Apart from the more obvious things, that is the large objects and the very physical objects that are presented to you, there are some manuscripts there that you may never see again. That is after the exhibition, I mean. There is, I'll just run through them. These, all of these have been mentioned repeatedly in this conference, but go down and look at the Yasna Sadeh, at the Vee Devdad, at the Khode Avesta, at the Talmud, that is on exhibition downstairs, at the Christian martyrdom texts, at the Ardaviraznaumag, at the Zatushnaume, at the Darbistan-e-Mazahib, at the Pesea Sanjhan, at Henry Lorde's Religion of the Parsees, at the work by Anketi du Péran, translation of the Avesta, and at the many portraits which have, some of them have been up on screen in the course of our conference. Now, I just want to tell you something about how this conference came into being. It's relevant. Sarah and I dreamt up the idea of this conference a number of years ago. I forget how many years ago, but quite a few. Three, about, or more. It was certainly, I'm delighted it's actually happened and so successfully. We are intending to publish an edited volume of conference papers as a book. And from what we've heard, I think it will be a most fascinating book, not least because we deliberately chose not to focus exclusively on history or historiography or on texts. But as you've seen this afternoon on a very wide range of subjects, and of genres. So the book is going to be immensely rich. But I have to ask the speakers, while I've got you all together, please don't publish your papers or post them up online if we're going to publish them because that would kind of be a spoiler. If you have any, please come talk to us if you have already or if you're going to. But we are intending to publish this and we would like your papers in the next few months will be more specific later to you as we write to you. Now looking back, identity, Zoroastrian identity formation through recourse to the past is not a snappy title. But it exactly describes what's on the tin and it may not be the title of the eventual book, but it describes what was going on in Sarah's and in my mind. For my part, I can tell you that it was stimulated by my work on Zoroastrian text. I'll just read you a little bit of this text. Benaume iza de dhanoye sobhan beharda misura yam nokte as jam. In God's name, who is wise the most sublime, my soul sings his delights in every moment. Faravon shokr miguyam shavuruz ke az shokrash merao jaon astafiruz. I thank him night and day in great abundance. My soul exhilarates in thanking him. From dawn to dusk, I say his name alone. He is the eternal sovereign of the world. He is the great, the able one forever. His servant's eye has sight through him forever. His servant's eye has sight through him forever. The writer is saying this of man in general and of himself in particular. This telling phrase, chashme bande bina zus ddayem. And here begins the poem, The Parsis No, as the Qesayah Sanjahn. As I just said, there's a little, a fairly late copy downstairs of the Qesayah Sanjahn. It's a text that relates the sojourn of the Zoroastrians who left Iran together some time after the Muslim conquest of Iran and the fall of Yazdegerd III. It's a, this is a text of 1599, so it's a pre-modern text. It's not an ancient text, not a medieval text even. But it doesn't begin in the 16th century, you see, the time of its composition, nor in the 7th century of the time of the Arab invasion of Iran. It refers to initially, but rather it looks back at the beginning through the eyes of the writer, Bahman Kaikobad Sanjana, as a Sanjana priest of Navsari writing at the end of the 16th century, through the memory of the Poryod Qeshan, the ancient sages to a past that reaches back, way back to the figure of the prophet Zarathustra himself. The text then speaks in the words of Zarathustra. How do we know they're the words of Zarathustra? Because he says they're the words of Zarathustra. Telling of how the world will be afflicted by a series of calamities repeatedly and repeatedly how it will be rescued from calamities by the efforts of the virtuous. These virtuous are specifically the combination of the good sovereign monarch and the righteous priest. So this is the passage, I just, that stimulated my thought to certainly, I shared this with Sarah that I wanted to discuss this with this kind of theme with colleagues at a conference. It begins. Dar al-Yami Qesha Qashtas Bouddha Ashod Zarathustra Raheddin Nomouddha. In King Vishtaspa's days, religion's path was brought to light by Holy Zoroaster. He'd told of things to come in the Avesta. And then there's no quotation in the quotation marks in the text, of course, but it's quite clearly. Oppressive kings will show themselves to you. Three times the good religion will be broken. Each time the faithful will be crushed and wounded. The name of those same kings will be oppressor and hence the noble faith become despairing. So this is the end of a short quotation in the voice of Zoroaster. And then the author resumes, I speak now of religion's work. So listen, how once again the noble faith was weakened. At length King Alexander came upon them. He burnt religion's holy books in public. 300 years this faith was brought down low and tyranny oppressed its faithful people. Then after for a while, the faith found refuge when Ardashir took sovereignty of it. And once again, the noble faith could flourish. It came to be illustrious in the world. Ardaviraaf was posted to God's court in order to describe the world of spirit. And after that, the accursed evil spirit wrought his destruction on this way again. Again, he cast the noble faith to ruin. The faith came into ill repute all round. A time passed when Sharpur came to the throne. He made the good faith full of light again. When Ardubadi Mahrasfand, the faithful, resigned himself like this for the religion, the seven brazen substances were mixed, all molten as they flowed upon his body. He solved the problems of the Zoroastrians. He gave this faith its dignity again. From King Sharpur until King Yazdegerd, the noble faith was honored and respected. By fate, the days of Zoroaster ended. No one could even trace the noble faith. When Zoroaster's thousandth year had come, the limit of the noble faith came too. When kingship went from Yazdegerd the king, the infidels arrived and took his throne. From that time forth Iran was smashed to pieces. Alas, that land of faith now gone to ruin. And at that time, all those who fixed their hearts upon the Zand and Parzand were dispersed. When every layman and Dastur, at once went into hiding for religion's sake, left homes, lands, gardens, villas, palaces, they left all for the sake of their religion. At this point, the author ends his review of the ancient past projected forward from the time of Zoroaster and begins the account of the journey of exile as if we are with him at that time of leaving. And there is a fearful symmetry in this text. And the essay Sanjan is the expression of a kind of revenge upon Islam. Because we have the lines I've just quoted. From that time forth, Iran was smashed to pieces. Alas, that land of faith now gone to ruin, Iran. That's in line 97. But at bait number 307, some 200-odd baits later, we have the line, Daran me dan eslam uftade ke koshteshod be razmeroyzade. Islam had fallen on that battlefield, slain in the battle with the noble prince. Now, I've written about this in the book that I published in 2009, that I see the text, as Jenny said earlier, as a text that justifies by recourse to the past, justifies the present condition of the Zoroastrians being they're in India. Why are they there? Why did they leave Iran? Well, this text explains it's educational, it's educative, it justifies, it legitimates, if you like. But it informs the Parsees of how they got there and it establishes their true identity. It reminds them. What most Parsees don't know, because it's not something that's currently repeated in oral tradition, is that a major part of the text takes place on a battlefield. And interestingly, and as a sort of footnote to something that was being said earlier about Daqiri's Shaanameh, his descriptions of Zoroaster, this text is, to some extent, a kind of pocket Shaanameh, a kind of Shaanameh light, almost for traveling, the traveling of the mind, I suppose. It does imitate the style and the substance of the Shaanameh, not specifically about Shaanameh characters, but about Zoroastrian characters, Parsees characters, but it's in the style of Shaanameh. Now, many of the papers in this conference have shown that tradition uses the past like this to reflect and to reflect upon the present. I don't want to summarize the papers in this conference. And indeed, it's not necessary to summarize to repeat the papers you've heard this afternoon, which are still, the taste of them is still fresh in your mouth. Unless you want me to tell you what Richard just said, I could tell you all again, I've written it all down, or what Shaanameh said. But I think we're familiar with what they have been saying, but I have noticed several ideas recurring in the last two days. And one is the one that we started with, and that is the vision, or the dayena, which was discussed by both Almut and Alberto in their papers. We started on a high, as I said, right at the beginning, three very complex papers, quite specialized papers. And I'm pleased to see it didn't put you off, because we're nearly as full as we started. But one of the important things that they were talking about, as Almut explained, was an image that she explained as possibly representing the Yazata, dayena vangvi, vahishta, the good or the best vision, sitting in incompatible opposition with the Ayasnya dayeva, the Ayasata, the unworshivable spirit, or a vision rather. She even managed to set off the fire alarm with her image of the good dayna, if you recall. She was extremely significant. Alberto's paper made a nice symmetry with Almut's paper, as he stressed that texts form a ritual frame, which is underpinned by a structure of cosmogonic, historical, and daily yasna. I managed to scribble down quickly the overhead that he had on the screen, creating union in the yasna at all three levels from the cosmic through the religious tradition in history to the personal dayena of the individual. In Dasturji Kottwal's paper, we had several illustrations of how ritual acts. Ritual acts as an embodiment and authorization of what he called ritualized vestiges of religious education. We had a brief but lively discussion at the end, and it was unfortunate that we didn't have more time to really discuss the importance of ritual in a more reasonable way. It was rushed, and I'm sorry if you felt unsatisfied at the end of that session, that we hadn't had time to address it. There is a huge literature on the importance in religion of ritual, the significance of ritual. It's extremely complex, and it's a very rewarding subject to study. And of course, their astronism provides some of the richest material for the study of ritual. But we had a lively discussion. I noted Dasturji's phrase that every consultation with God is a dayena. I wrote that, Don. I hope it was you that said that. Maybe it was Alberto. But that every consultation with God is a dayena, is a vision. And therefore, this idea of vision is something terribly important, and I thought that it kept creeping up. Even later on, I'll move on to it in a minute. To Raji's historical paper on how Zoroaster in the Sassanian, Zoroastrians in the Sassanian period reconstructed Zoroaster in terms of the past, and Zoroastrianism in terms of the past, struck me, I was particularly interested in how he explained how the writing down of the tradition in the Written of Esther and the Zand and in the Middle Persian books changed the way in which Zoroastrians could think about their tradition in a change from orality to scriptural to written tradition. And he put the Sassanians into physical and cultural context between the Romans and the Turkic civilizations. In one of the more technical papers of the conference, Professor Antonio Panaino gave us a truly celestial vision of heaven. And this was about as much of the history of science as it was about religion and theology. It certainly had my head spinning and I look forward to reading a fuller written version of the paper. As I did promise you, I wasn't going to, I'm not going to trawl through all of the papers again to remind you, but I want to remind you only of one or two things that, as I say, are repeated patterns. We had a kind of, a slightly different paper from Johan Vivaino. Not the sort of paper you often hear at erinological conferences, which are often methodologically unreflective. That this was methodologically very reflective. And I don't think we should regard this as a cold flannel round the face. I do think it was refreshing to hear this and certainly I myself have thought about these questions. But two of the words that were used frequently in his paper were the observer, that is at the sort of dry end of the spectrum, the academic end, and the participant, the believer, if you like. The paper was entitled, if you remember, the insider and the outsider. I prefer the term observer and participant, but you have to realize that it's not far from observer to observant, observant, and that somebody who is observant is seeing in a different way from somebody who is merely looking on. And I think this gives us something of a clue to the essential difference, dare I say the word essential in postmodernity, but the essential difference between being a mere observer looking on from the outside and being observant, that is participating in. And it's something about the difference between looking to inquire, to find out intellectually, and seeing the vision, that is, and we can use this sense of vision as Diana, which becomes Dane, Dane, which means religion. Nini and Smart was also referred to in that paper and his idea of bracketing off, the phenomenological bracketing off of ideas, phenomenologically, but he also used the idea of religion as Weltanschauung, the Weltanschauung, world view, the way that, but I would prefer, I quite like the idea of the vision of Zoroastrianism and might be a good title for the book actually. So it's also the title of a book I'm doing called The Vision of Rumi at the moment, so perhaps not, if it's gonna be the same publisher, they might get confused. But it's certainly, you see, the idea of vision in an active sense, that a vision is something that you actually create through your actions and through your life, is something that's religiously, spiritually, and of course intellectually very, very interesting and rewarding to study. But it is the case that some of us, and not very many of us, do studies or Zoroastrianism just from our studies and never venture out into the real world? We sit in front of our screens and in front of our manuscripts. There aren't many, many, many ironists who altogether do that because even if, we do go out into the field, whether it's the social field or the archeological field, and we get our feet wet or muddy or dusty at least. But the point is that there is this essential difference between the insider and the outsider, of course, or the observer in the extreme sense, and this was an interesting paper. I was relieved to hear that Johann was still confused, hadn't come to his real conclusions, and he kept telling us that he wasn't happy with his model, which is always reassuring because we weren't happy with it entirely ourselves. But we hope he works it up into a very nice, solid paper, Johann. We had a treat that afternoon in session three, a visually remarkable afternoon, three papers. We started with France Grenet's exploration with us on the screen of this beautiful bacteria and silver plate, and it was interesting to explore with him the different stages of interpretation. So here we were reimagining ourselves back into observers or experiencing this bowl in its original setting and trying to put it into its original context. Most fascinating and intriguing paper and I think persuasive. It's cheeky of me to say that. Sorry. But very persuasive. We were persuaded. Vesta presented us with a cruise around symbology, another visual treat on screen and talking about the various symbols of serastrianism and their history. James gave us a remarkable world tour and we would only expect as much from him to be visiting Raphael Caligula, Dura Europus and Etchmeadzin at least, as well as the whole of Greater Persianate World. And we were also reassured that he was as frustrated at the possibilities as we were by the end of the paper, the dazzling array of possibilities that trying to find the different images of Zoraster in the Zorasterian world. And some of the questions that it raised about the reason for the difficulty of locating the image of Zoraster. Well, some papers that we listened to explored new areas, new fields, new questions. Many of them, most of them actually explored new questions, but some radically new fields really. And I thought Abdi Yong's paper, which was only this morning, so it's probably still again fresh in your memory, was remarkable in that it opens up the idea of the Zorasterian community in Baghdad. And we look forward to seeing his further work on that. Ashq Dalen gave a paper that I think was very much appreciated because it gives a different view of the image of Zoraster looking at him in the Sean army. And he raises some very interesting questions. And once again, I would like to study the texts more closely when we see it in print. Kajesta's paper was an extraordinary course in the banquet where we seemed to be looking at what we wished not to remember. It was, you know, we were talking about, we're talking generally about looking back, but he was raising a subject which is where the Parsis themselves and where scholars have not really drawn, to focus their attention on these things because they are unpleasant and they're disquieting. And it's partly because the Parsis themselves have chosen to construct an image, a particular image of their own community as harmonious and peaceful within India. And we can see that the Kese Sanjan was one of the ways in which they started doing that and it's remained a sort of at the center of that self-image. And again, I look forward to seeing the full version of that paper. Dan's paper on Magian Mystics was again, one of those papers that is quite new to us. It's relatively new subject and promises to open up a new dimension. I've long been fascinated with the Ilmek Shnoom and met Mayor Master Moose once. And so this all begins to make good sense that this is a long tradition. Of course, it's something that pops up like dandelions in a field, suddenly overnight, in all religious traditions, you get these remarkable forms of mysticism or what would you call it, theosophy or Wahdat Ulba Jud is another term for it, but to find it popping up in Zoroastrianism, which has been sometimes called the least mystical of religious traditions. I don't necessarily agree with that, but this is very interesting stuff. Jenny's paper is so recent in your minds that I dare say I don't need to remind you of the wonderful repast we had. That was a very tasty course and we all enjoyed that very much. So thank you, Jenny. And Shenaz, what a wonderful, refreshingly physical paper after all this textual study, but let us remember that textual and textile actually come from the same root. It's no joke, it's true, a text is something woven, not physically, but woven with words. And so this was a truly contextual study. It put a lot of things into context and so we can now think of ourselves as textile scholars as well as textual scholars. I like the idea that sharth and alarm ties the knot. I like the whole paper actually. And as I said, Richard's paper, which is all about the disambiguating, if that's such a word disambiguating, disambiguating the Tajik nation by taking on this Zoroastrian identity. As was said, this is a remarkable development and it raises the question of what do we think of this? Whoa. Somebody I haven't mentioned yet because I want to, it was one of the shorter papers, but for me, one of the, something that I was myself particularly interested in because I'm also working on a mystical poet who goes on a lot about Dosti was Gemshi Choksi's paper on Zoroastrian goodwill in medieval Muslim contexts where he was, I do look forward to the full length paper at Gemshi because this is something I've always thought that we've not given enough attention to. And the reason for it is that this word Dosti, which is often perhaps wrongly translated as love, not necessarily, but so long as you understand that when you use a word like love in a translation, you have to contextualize it. It's not Christian love and it's not Muslim-ish. It is in a Zoroastrian context. In fact, I've dug out a quotation from my own, from a translation I did for my doctoral work in chapter 62 of the Pallavi Reviat and I'll shut up now. This is my conclusion, chairman. From chapter 62, section 32 I think it is in the Pallavi Reviat. There's this paragraph that says it's a list of the great virtues that one should cultivate. And it says 13th moderation, Paimonagi, is he who plans everything according to the right measure. So this is not an epitaph, but an epithet, or this is something that we can say for Sarah for doing so much for us in the last few days and the last few months, nay, the last few years planning this. Moderation is he who plans or she who plans everything according to the right measure so that more and less should not be therein. For the right measure is the completeness of everything, except those things in which there is no need for moderation. Beyantiske Paimonagi and Adnest, Danagi, or Dosti, or Kirbag, knowledge and love and good deeds, no moderation there. On that note, I think we should wrap up and thank you and thank all the speakers.