When you meet me in person, the first thing you'll notice is my enthusiastic smile and the second is my Parsi origin.
It's just prominent in my demeanor i take pride in it. I didn't have to look any further for my final project because i found my heritage the most interesting.
The challenge was thinking out of the box while working in a familiar territory. When it comes to my community, which is small in numbers, the best way to make our voices heard is through our history and our culture.
I wanted people to know more about our community and me.
"Oh man, whoever you are and wherever you have come from, for i know you will come.
I am Cyrus the great, the man who gave the Persians their empire, therefore do not begrudge me this piece of earth that covers my bones"
Following were the words inscribed on stones that covered the remains of one of the most eminent emperors in history. The glorious Persian dynasty that ruled close to quarter of the surface of the earth would one day come to an end but the community will live forever.
They say wars is never wrong, but there are some things that are more wrong.
This was a community that knew nothing about the heat of battle but everything about fire.
Just like they find solace in the rage of the burning light, the Zorastrian's fled their holy land in search of peace.
But the journey would be far from easy.
Yes or no, up or down, the human life is made up of choices.
But the real question is something we often take for granted. To live or to die, and sometimes that choice isn't really in our hands. Driven away from the land they called home, the Zorastrian's set sail as they witnessed their paradise burned down to hell.
Fleeing with everyone they could, they embarked on an unprecedented journey that would script some of the sensational pages of religious history.
The weather was bad and the journey was full of perils. But they persisted as the fire burnt in their hearts. The Zorastrian's held on to their belief to look for a place they belonged to.
They were strangers in a strange land with a strange God and a stranger story.
They had feld from a massacre. Their temples were burned down to the ground, their scripts were reduced to ashes. Their hands were full but their stomachs were empty.
They had lost their families, their friends, their lives. But the fire was still alive.
And somehow nothing else mattered. It's said no matter how cruel it gets the storm will pass, the clouds will part and in the moment you will realize that you were strong enough to survive. That fire burns even today, stronger and brighter than ever, pure as the hearts of them men that laid down their lives for the future of their ancestors.
Arriving on the shores of Northern India, the future of the Zorastrain community lay at the mercy of a King. Exhausted and traumitized they went ahead to seek asylum in the Kingdom. A bowl of milk and sugar was all it took for the humble priest to convince the king to open his doors for the famished refugees. Just as the sugar dissolves in the milk so would the Zorastrian comunity blend in with the Indian community.
They will not attempt to change the color or the texture of the molk but just make it sweeter.
