Before entering our next stop (the town of Yazd), we visited a Zoroastrian Tower of Silence and cemetery. A bit about Zoroastrianism, that originated in Iran in the 6th C BC, based on the teachings of Zoraoaster, and is often considered to be the world’s first monotheistic religion.
Before the advent of Alexander (in 3rd C BC) and Islam (7th C AD), Zoroastrianism was the predominant religion in Iran. This religion believes Ahura Mazda to be creator and fire to be an important agent for purity. The Avesta is their holy book, and they believe, like all other religions, that good deeds are an important pillar of life. Free will is also an important concept, and thus the religion rejects monasticism. Faravahar is one of the primary symbols of this religion, and is believed to be the depiction of a guardian spirit, Fravashi. This symbol of an old man represents experience and wisdom.
A large group of Zoroastrians emigrated to India in the 10th C AD to avoid persecution by the Muslim invaders. These became the Parsi community (Parsi being ‘from Persia’) Sadly, like the Parsis in India, the number of Zoraoastrians in Iran is on the decline with estimates ranging from 20,000 to 1,00,000.
On the outskirts of Yazd, we visited this no-longer-in-use tower of silence (Dakhma) atop a steep hill. The Zoroastrians believe that, in order to maintain the purity of earth and fire, the dead should not be buried or cremated. They leave the dead atop hills to be eaten by the vultures. On our climb up, we were accompanied by a group of boisterous boys on motorcycles who insisted on going up and down on the steep path and doing “stunts”. The irony of shattered silence in the dakhma was not lost on us.
At the bottom of this tower of silence is a Zoroastrian cemetery where they now bury their dead. Unlike the Parsis in India, the Zoroastrians in Iran are no longer allowed to place their dead in towers of silence, and have to bury them.
One of Zoroastrianism’s most holy sites is also situated in Yazd – this fire temple, Ateshkadeh, apparently has a fire that has been burning since 470 AD (it was transferred to Yazd in 1474, and to its present site in 1940).
Marco Polo passed Yazd on his travels and this city was spared destruction by Mongols and Tamarlane. The old town of Yazd, where we stayed, is a virtual labyrinth of narrow streets set among simple mud houses. It is easy to, and I did, get lost whilst walking in this part of town. The city’s roofscape is a virtual forest of cooling towers (called ‘badgirs’) – these towers, which look like stylised chimneys, were built on the roofs of houses to facilitate circulation of cool air.
We then visited all the ‘must-see’ sights in Yazd. First stop was the impressive Jameh Mosque (which, with its azure tiles, reminded me of Uzbeki mosques and madrassas), Here we bumped into perhaps the most photographed caretaker in Iran. This wizened old man appears in the photo albums of all visitors to Yazd.
Another lovely, and photogenic, building in Yazd is the Amir Chakhmaq complex – a takieh (used during Muharram, the period of mourning to commemorate the death of Imam Hussein). Just across this complex is the Water Museum – an interesting museum that details how water was used in cities like Yazd. Water flowed from one house to another where they would pass through large underground pools that would keep that room cool enough to fight the outside heat, and also to keep perishable items fresh.
However, for me, the most interesting visit in Yazd was to a Traditional gym (zorkhane, urdu readers would immediately make the connection). The communal gym (almost every locality has one) is a large room with a round pit where all the ‘exercises’ take place. There are all sorts of interesting equipment (large wooden slats with chains and bells, clubs etc) used by the gym ‘members’. The exercises are done by all in tandem, and to the sound of live music (basically, a drummer who would sing and provide the rhythm for the exercises). There was a really fat man who won our heart by his attempts to stay in shape (‘round is a shape?’).
From Yazd we made a day trip to the town of Meybod about an hour away by road. We took the local mini-van where I decided to try my tooti-footi farsi with a group of college boys in the van (much to the amusement of the others). By about half an hour, I had exhausted all the words and sentences that my wee Farsi phrasebook offered by way of conversation breakers or ‘essential words to know’. Then I went through the list all over again!
At Meybod, while we were looking for something to eat and drink in one of the local shops, two guys came upto me and started speaking in Farsi. They assumed that I was the local tour-guide for my two travel companions (German and Australian). I felt flattered at being confused for an Iranian but I continued to play my dumb act with utterances of ‘tourist tourist’. Then they said, in broken English, “We are the tourist police, show us your passports.” Of course, none of us had our passports with us and we just started walking away from them (we’d read about the ‘fake tourist police’ scam in our guidebook where people pose as tourist police and try and extort money or sometimes even steal passports of the tourists). Anyway, we just ignored them and continued our way. After about a kilometre or so we noticed that they’d followed us in our car and came to us again ‘show passport, show passport’.
This time we told them that our passports were not with us but at our hotels in Yazd, they demanded to know the name of our hotel. When we told them, they had nothing to write with and nowhere to write it down (some police this was!). They stopped a passerby and asked him for a pen and one of them wrote down the name of the hotel on his palm. By now we were completely sure that they were no police. We then stopped for a while in a teahouse and we noticed that they were going back and forth in their car. That did get us a bit worried but then we didn’t hear from them or see them again. Later we found out (from one of the locals), that they *were* really the police. Yikes!
At Meybod, we saw some interesting sites – a pigeon house (where, at one time, 4000 pigeons were housed to collect their guano as fertiliser), a stamp museum (where, amongst other stamps, I saw an interesting Iranian one which commemorated Indo-Iranian ties with photos of Hafez and Kabir), a caravanserai, and another icehouse.
When we reached the highway to catch a minivan back to Yazd, no van would stop for us as all vans were full. One person noticed our predicament and asked us to wait. He went on his motorcycle to the bus-stand and instructed one of the vans to stop for us on the highway. He didn’t want anything in return. How’s that for helpfulness?
Before the advent of Alexander (in 3rd C BC) and Islam (7th C AD), Zoroastrianism was the predominant religion in Iran. This religion believes Ahura Mazda to be creator and fire to be an important agent for purity. The Avesta is their holy book, and they believe, like all other religions, that good deeds are an important pillar of life. Free will is also an important concept, and thus the religion rejects monasticism. Faravahar is one of the primary symbols of this religion, and is believed to be the depiction of a guardian spirit, Fravashi. This symbol of an old man represents experience and wisdom.
A large group of Zoroastrians emigrated to India in the 10th C AD to avoid persecution by the Muslim invaders. These became the Parsi community (Parsi being ‘from Persia’) Sadly, like the Parsis in India, the number of Zoraoastrians in Iran is on the decline with estimates ranging from 20,000 to 1,00,000.
On the outskirts of Yazd, we visited this no-longer-in-use tower of silence (Dakhma) atop a steep hill. The Zoroastrians believe that, in order to maintain the purity of earth and fire, the dead should not be buried or cremated. They leave the dead atop hills to be eaten by the vultures. On our climb up, we were accompanied by a group of boisterous boys on motorcycles who insisted on going up and down on the steep path and doing “stunts”. The irony of shattered silence in the dakhma was not lost on us.
At the bottom of this tower of silence is a Zoroastrian cemetery where they now bury their dead. Unlike the Parsis in India, the Zoroastrians in Iran are no longer allowed to place their dead in towers of silence, and have to bury them.
One of Zoroastrianism’s most holy sites is also situated in Yazd – this fire temple, Ateshkadeh, apparently has a fire that has been burning since 470 AD (it was transferred to Yazd in 1474, and to its present site in 1940).
Marco Polo passed Yazd on his travels and this city was spared destruction by Mongols and Tamarlane. The old town of Yazd, where we stayed, is a virtual labyrinth of narrow streets set among simple mud houses. It is easy to, and I did, get lost whilst walking in this part of town. The city’s roofscape is a virtual forest of cooling towers (called ‘badgirs’) – these towers, which look like stylised chimneys, were built on the roofs of houses to facilitate circulation of cool air.
We then visited all the ‘must-see’ sights in Yazd. First stop was the impressive Jameh Mosque (which, with its azure tiles, reminded me of Uzbeki mosques and madrassas), Here we bumped into perhaps the most photographed caretaker in Iran. This wizened old man appears in the photo albums of all visitors to Yazd.
Another lovely, and photogenic, building in Yazd is the Amir Chakhmaq complex – a takieh (used during Muharram, the period of mourning to commemorate the death of Imam Hussein). Just across this complex is the Water Museum – an interesting museum that details how water was used in cities like Yazd. Water flowed from one house to another where they would pass through large underground pools that would keep that room cool enough to fight the outside heat, and also to keep perishable items fresh.
However, for me, the most interesting visit in Yazd was to a Traditional gym (zorkhane, urdu readers would immediately make the connection). The communal gym (almost every locality has one) is a large room with a round pit where all the ‘exercises’ take place. There are all sorts of interesting equipment (large wooden slats with chains and bells, clubs etc) used by the gym ‘members’. The exercises are done by all in tandem, and to the sound of live music (basically, a drummer who would sing and provide the rhythm for the exercises). There was a really fat man who won our heart by his attempts to stay in shape (‘round is a shape?’).
From Yazd we made a day trip to the town of Meybod about an hour away by road. We took the local mini-van where I decided to try my tooti-footi farsi with a group of college boys in the van (much to the amusement of the others). By about half an hour, I had exhausted all the words and sentences that my wee Farsi phrasebook offered by way of conversation breakers or ‘essential words to know’. Then I went through the list all over again!
At Meybod, while we were looking for something to eat and drink in one of the local shops, two guys came upto me and started speaking in Farsi. They assumed that I was the local tour-guide for my two travel companions (German and Australian). I felt flattered at being confused for an Iranian but I continued to play my dumb act with utterances of ‘tourist tourist’. Then they said, in broken English, “We are the tourist police, show us your passports.” Of course, none of us had our passports with us and we just started walking away from them (we’d read about the ‘fake tourist police’ scam in our guidebook where people pose as tourist police and try and extort money or sometimes even steal passports of the tourists). Anyway, we just ignored them and continued our way. After about a kilometre or so we noticed that they’d followed us in our car and came to us again ‘show passport, show passport’.
This time we told them that our passports were not with us but at our hotels in Yazd, they demanded to know the name of our hotel. When we told them, they had nothing to write with and nowhere to write it down (some police this was!). They stopped a passerby and asked him for a pen and one of them wrote down the name of the hotel on his palm. By now we were completely sure that they were no police. We then stopped for a while in a teahouse and we noticed that they were going back and forth in their car. That did get us a bit worried but then we didn’t hear from them or see them again. Later we found out (from one of the locals), that they *were* really the police. Yikes!
At Meybod, we saw some interesting sites – a pigeon house (where, at one time, 4000 pigeons were housed to collect their guano as fertiliser), a stamp museum (where, amongst other stamps, I saw an interesting Iranian one which commemorated Indo-Iranian ties with photos of Hafez and Kabir), a caravanserai, and another icehouse.
When we reached the highway to catch a minivan back to Yazd, no van would stop for us as all vans were full. One person noticed our predicament and asked us to wait. He went on his motorcycle to the bus-stand and instructed one of the vans to stop for us on the highway. He didn’t want anything in return. How’s that for helpfulness?
