➺ What did Navroz mean to you growing up?
As a child, Navroz was a relatively low-key affair in my parents’ home. I mostly remember waking up to my mom's Parsi ravo (sweet semolina pudding) or sev (sweet vermicelli) topped with dried fruits.
Lunch was the classic dhandar and kolmi patio – yellow dal tempered with green chilli, garlic and cumin fried in pure ghee, served with white rice and the patio. It’s a tangy prawn gravy that gets its unique flavour from the addition of naturally brewed sugarcane vinegar. In Parsi culture, this dish is synonymous with auspicious occasions: new year, birthdays or anniversaries.
There would be a lovely toran (flower garland hanging above the main door), and we’d adorn the entrance with chalk patterns, intricate stencils depicting good luck symbols. In the evening, we’d go out for a family dinner or visit some relatives. It was never an elaborate celebration.
➺ How has your relationship to Navroz changed over time?
My perception of Navroz completely transformed after I met Prayag. He has a deep fascination with Parsi culture, and after we moved in together, he assimilated rapidly into the culture and our life, hence becoming the driving force behind our Navroz celebrations.
He took the initiative to learn all the details – from precisely decorating the ses (a traditional Parsi ceremonial tray) to hand-picking chalk stencil designs and being very particular about the kind of flowers used for the toran, along with setting the lunch menu and other details. His enthusiasm is contagious, and I now share it wholeheartedly, which, in turn, has made Navroz so special. We often share the occasion with friends, gathering to cook a feast or head out for dinner.
