Hey everyone, welcome back to My Weird Prompts. I am Corn, and I am sitting here in our living room in Jerusalem with my brother, Herman Poppleberry. It is a beautiful February afternoon in twenty twenty-six, and we have a really deep one today.
Hello, hello. It is good to be here. I have been looking forward to this one all morning. We are diving into a topic that is both ancient and, surprisingly, right at the center of a lot of modern identity shifts.
Yeah, same here. Today's prompt comes from Daniel, who wants us to look at the religion of Zoroastrianism. It is one of those faiths that most people have heard of in a history class, usually in the context of the Persian Empire or maybe a quick mention of Cyrus the Great, but it often gets treated like a museum piece or a dead language. Daniel wants us to look at how it actually functions today, especially given that its followers are now a small minority in places like Iran and India.
It is a fascinating topic because Zoroastrianism is arguably the oldest monotheistic religion in the world. We are talking about a faith that likely dates back over three thousand five hundred years, depending on which scholar you ask. It influenced Judaism, Christianity, and Islam in ways that people do not always realize. But you are right, Corn. The modern reality is very different from the days of the Achaemenid or Sassanid Empires when it was the state religion of a global superpower. Today, it is a faith of the diaspora, struggling with demographics but also experiencing a strange kind of intellectual and cultural renaissance.
Right, and I think that is where we should start. When people think of Zoroastrianism today, they usually think of two distinct groups. You have the Zoroastrians in Iran, and then you have the Parsis in India. Herman, can you give us some context on how that split happened? Because their experiences today seem quite different.
Absolutely. The split is a direct result of the Arab conquest of Persia in the seventh century. After the fall of the Sassanid Empire, Islam began to spread across the Iranian plateau. Over several centuries, many Zoroastrians converted, but a significant group chose to flee to preserve their faith. There is a famous foundational text called the Qissa-i Sanjan, which tells the story of how a group of Zoroastrians sailed from the island of Hormuz to the western coast of India, specifically Gujarat, around the eighth or tenth century. These are the people we now call the Parsis. Parsi literally means Persian in the Gujarati language.
And the ones who stayed in Iran? They faced a very different path.
They did. They became a minority in their own homeland, often referred to as Gabars, which was originally a derogatory term. For centuries, they lived under various degrees of pressure, including the jizya tax on non-Muslims. Today, they are a recognized religious minority in the Islamic Republic of Iran. They even have a reserved seat in the Iranian parliament. But their numbers are small. We are talking maybe fifteen thousand to twenty-five thousand people remaining in Iran, mostly centered around the cities of Yazd and Kerman. However, those numbers are tricky because of the way the Iranian census handles religion.
It is interesting because even though they are a tiny minority, so much of Iranian culture is still deeply rooted in Zoroastrian traditions. I am thinking of Nowruz, the Persian New Year. That is a Zoroastrian holiday at its core, right?
Exactly. Nowruz, the spring equinox, is the most important secular holiday in Iran today, but its liturgical roots are entirely Zoroastrian. It celebrates the renewal of the world, or Frashokereti. Even the festival of Yalda, which is the longest night of the year, or Chaharshanbe Suri, the festival of fire before Nowruz, these are all remnants of the old faith. It is this strange situation where the religion is a minority, but its DNA is everywhere in the national culture. In fact, in recent years, especially following the social unrest in Iran over the last few years, there has been a massive surge of interest among young Iranians in Zoroastrianism as a form of nationalist identity. They see it as a way to connect with a pre-Islamic, "purely Persian" past.
So, if we look at the modern practice, how does being a minority in a Shia Muslim country affect how they live? I imagine there are some practical constraints, especially regarding things like proselytizing.
That is a huge factor. In Iran, Zoroastrians are generally allowed to practice their faith, but they are strictly forbidden from seeking converts from the Muslim population. This has created a very insular community. They focus on preservation rather than expansion. However, there is a growing phenomenon of "Neo-Zoroastrianism" where people are adopting the philosophy without officially changing their religion on their government ID. They might wear the Faravahar symbol—that famous winged disc—as a pendant. It has become a symbol of resistance and heritage.
That makes sense. Now, let us pivot to India, because the Parsi community there seems to have a very different social standing. Whenever I read about the Parsis, they are described as this incredibly successful, wealthy, and influential group in Indian society.
Oh, the Parsi impact on India is massive, far out of proportion to their numbers. We are talking about a community of maybe fifty thousand to sixty thousand people in a country of over one point four billion. Yet, they were at the forefront of India's industrialization. Think of the Tata family. The Tata Group is one of the largest conglomerates in the world, and they are a Parsi family. Or the Godrej family. Even in the arts, someone like Freddie Mercury was of Parsi descent. His birth name was Farrokh Bulsara.
Wait, Freddie Mercury? I actually did not know that.
Yes, his family were Parsis from Gujarat who moved to Zanzibar and then the United Kingdom. It is a perfect example of the Parsi diaspora. But what is interesting about the Parsis is that they have traditionally been very strict about who is a Zoroastrian. In many Parsi communities, especially the more traditional ones in Mumbai, you are only considered a Parsi if both your parents are Zoroastrian. This is based on an old agreement they supposedly made with the local Hindu King, Jadi Rana, when they first arrived in India—that they would not proselytize and would keep to themselves.
And that leads to a major problem, doesn't it? If you are that exclusive and you have a low birth rate, the population is going to shrink.
It is a full-blown demographic crisis. The Parsi population in India is declining by about ten percent every decade. They have a very high level of education and a late average age for marriage, and many choose not to have children at all. By some estimates, for every one Parsi birth, there are four deaths. The Indian government actually launched a program called Jiyo Parsi, which literally means Long Live Parsi, to encourage them to have more children through subsidies, fertility treatments, and counseling. It is one of the few times you will see a government actively trying to increase the birth rate of a specific, wealthy minority group.
That is fascinating. It is a complete reversal of the usual population concerns in India. But I want to dig into the actual religious practices. When we talk about Zoroastrianism, the first thing people usually mention is fire. They are often called fire worshippers, though I know that is a bit of a misconception. How does the role of fire work in a modern temple?
You are right to call it a misconception. Zoroastrians do not worship fire. They see fire as a symbol of Ahura Mazda, the supreme deity. It represents purity, light, and the divine spark within everything. In a modern Fire Temple, or Agiary, there is a central flame that is kept burning perpetually. Some of these fires are incredibly old. There is a fire in the village of Udvada in India, the Iranshah Atash Behram, that is said to have been burning for over one thousand two hundred years. It was brought over from Persia when the first refugees arrived.
That is incredible. Imagine the logistics of keeping a fire going for twelve centuries through migrations and wars.
It is a testament to their dedication. But the modern challenge is actually the maintenance of these temples. As the population shrinks and moves to the suburbs or moves abroad, many of these historic fire temples are becoming harder to sustain. In the diaspora, like in the United States or Canada, they have had to adapt. They might not have a traditional consecrated fire that burns twenty-four seven because of fire codes or lack of priests to tend it. Instead, they might use a symbolic fire or a gas-powered flame for specific rituals.
That brings up a good point about the diaspora. If you are a Zoroastrian living in, say, Los Angeles or London, how do your practices differ from someone in Mumbai or Yazd?
The diaspora is actually where the most interesting theological shifts are happening. In North America, under the umbrella of organizations like FEZANA—the Federation of Zoroastrian Associations of North America—there is a much stronger movement toward being more inclusive. Many diaspora communities allow for conversion, and they are more accepting of intermarried couples. They focus more on the core ethical teachings of the prophet Zarathustra rather than the later legalistic texts.
Which are?
The famous triad: Good Thoughts, Good Words, Good Deeds. In Avestan, it is Humata, Hukhta, Huvarshta. In the diaspora, there is a sense that Zoroastrianism is a philosophy of life that anyone can adopt, rather than just an ethnic identity you are born into. This has created some massive tension with the more conservative Parsi leadership in India, the Bombay Parsi Punchayet, who want to maintain the traditional bloodlines. There was a famous case involving a woman named Goolrokh Gupta who married a non-Zoroastrian and was initially barred from entering the Fire Temple for her parents' funerals. It sparked a huge legal and social debate.
I can see why that would be a point of friction. It is the classic struggle between preservation of heritage and the need for survival through growth. Now, Herman, I want to talk about one of the most famous, or maybe infamous, aspects of Zoroastrianism: the Towers of Silence. For those who do not know, this is their traditional method of dealing with the dead. How does that work today?
This is one of the most stark examples of how modern reality has forced religious change. Traditionally, Zoroastrians believe that a dead body is impure and that burying it would pollute the earth, while cremating it would pollute the fire. So, they practiced what is called excarnation. They would place the bodies on high stone platforms called Dakhmas, or Towers of Silence, where vultures would consume the flesh.
And this is still happening?
It still happens in Mumbai, at the Doongerwadi forest, but it has run into a massive ecological problem: the vultures are gone. In the nineteen nineties and early two thousands, there was a catastrophic decline in the vulture population in India. It was caused by a veterinary drug called diclofenac, which was given to cattle. When the vultures ate the carcasses of cattle that had been treated with this drug, their kidneys failed. Within a few years, ninety-nine percent of the vultures were gone.
Wow. So, you have these Towers of Silence in the middle of a massive city like Mumbai, and suddenly there are no vultures to do the work. What do they do?
It created a huge crisis. Some tried using solar concentrators—basically giant mirrors—to speed up the decomposition process through heat, but it was not very effective during the monsoon season. This has led many modern Zoroastrians, even in India, to turn to burial or cremation. There is now a New Prayer Hall in Mumbai specifically for those who choose cremation, which was a huge scandal when it first opened. In Iran, the government actually banned the use of Towers of Silence in the nineteen seventies for public health reasons, so Iranian Zoroastrians have been using graves lined with concrete to prevent pollution of the soil for decades now.
It is a perfect example of how an ancient ritual, perfectly adapted for a rural, mountainous environment thousands of years ago, hits a wall in the modern, urban world. I mean, the ecological shift alone changed their funeral rites.
Exactly. And it shows the pragmatism of the community. Even though there is a lot of internal debate, they are finding ways to adapt while trying to hold onto the theological core. The idea remains the same: do not pollute the elements. So, they use lead-lined coffins or concrete vaults to fulfill the spiritual requirement in a modern way.
Let us talk about the theology for a second. You mentioned earlier that Zoroastrianism influenced the major Abrahamic religions. I think it is worth diving into what those influences were, because it helps explain why the religion feels so familiar to many people even if they have never studied it.
Oh, it is everywhere. Before Zoroastrianism, many ancient religions were more about placating various gods through sacrifice. Zarathustra introduced the idea of a clear choice between good and evil. He taught that there is one supreme God, Ahura Mazda, who is all good, and an opposing force of chaos and evil, often called Ahriman or Angra Mainyu. This dualism is the root of the concepts of Heaven and Hell, a final judgment, and even the idea of a future savior, the Saoshyant.
So, the whole idea of an ultimate battle between light and dark, and the individual's role in choosing a side, that is all coming from Zarathustra?
Largely, yes. During the Babylonian Captivity, when the Jewish people were in exile, they came into close contact with Persian culture. When Cyrus the Great conquered Babylon and allowed the Jews to return to Jerusalem, he was seen as a messianic figure. Many scholars believe this is when concepts like the afterlife, the hierarchy of angels and demons, and the resurrection of the dead really began to take shape in Judaism and, later, in Christianity and Islam. Even the word Paradise comes from the Old Persian word pairidaeza, which meant a walled garden.
That is a great bit of etymology. It really highlights how much we owe to this tradition. But thinking about it as a modern religion, does it have a central authority? Like, is there a Zoroastrian Pope?
No, and that is part of why you see so much variation. There are High Priests, called Dasturs, in places like Mumbai and Surat, but they do not have universal jurisdiction. The community is fairly decentralized. The most important thing for a Zoroastrian is their personal relationship with the truth, or Asha. Asha is a key concept. It means truth, order, and righteousness. Your life's goal is to align yourself with Asha to help Ahura Mazda defeat the forces of the Lie, or Druj. It is a very active, optimistic faith. You are not a "sinner" in the Christian sense; you are a co-worker of God.
I like that. It is very empowering. It places the responsibility for the state of the world directly on the individual's choices. But what about the rituals for everyday people? If I am a young Parsi in Mumbai today, what does my religious life look like?
One of the most important milestones is the Navjote ceremony. This is the initiation ritual where a child, usually between the ages of seven and twelve, is officially inducted into the faith. They are given a sacred undershirt called a Sudreh and a sacred thread called a Kusti.
I have seen pictures of the Kusti. They tie it around their waist, right?
Yes, and they are supposed to untie and retie it several times a day while reciting prayers. It is a constant physical reminder of their commitment to the faith. The thread is made of seventy-two strands of fine lamb's wool, representing the seventy-two chapters of the Yasna, which is their primary liturgical text. Even in the modern world, many Zoroastrians still wear the Sudreh and Kusti every day under their normal clothes. It is a hidden, physical connection to the divine.
It reminds me of the Jewish practice of wearing tzitzit or the Mormon temple garment. But I wonder, as a minority, do they face any unique challenges in terms of education or employment?
In India, it is actually the opposite. Being Parsi is often seen as a mark of high status and integrity. They are known for being incredibly philanthropic. There is a saying in India: Parsi, thy name is charity. They have established hospitals, schools, and housing colonies that are legendary for their quality. In Iran, it is a bit more complicated. While they are respected for their history, they do face some glass ceilings in certain government or military positions because of the Islamic nature of the state. But generally, they are seen as very loyal and hardworking citizens.
You know, it is interesting that you mention their integrity. I remember reading that in ancient times, the Persians were famous for three things: riding a horse, shooting a bow, and telling the truth.
Exactly! That is from Herodotus. And that emphasis on truth, on Asha, is still the core of the identity. Even today, if you talk to people in Mumbai, they will tell you that a Parsi's word is his bond. It is a very strong cultural trait.
I want to touch on something I saw in the news recently. There has been a movement in Iraqi Kurdistan where people are "returning" to Zoroastrianism. Is that a real thing, or just a political statement?
It is a very real and fascinating development. Over the last decade, thousands of Kurds in Northern Iraq have officially converted to Zoroastrianism. They opened a temple in Sulaymaniyah in twenty sixteen. For many Kurds, Zoroastrianism is seen as their "original" religion before it was replaced by Islam. It is tied up with Kurdish nationalism and a desire to distance themselves from the more radical interpretations of Islam that they have faced in the region. The Parsi and Iranian Zoroastrian leadership have been a bit cautious about this because, again, it brings up the question of conversion, which is a sensitive topic. But it shows that the religion still has a powerful pull as a source of identity.
So, looking forward, what do you think the future looks like for Zoroastrianism? We have this declining population in India, a restricted but stable community in Iran, and a growing, more liberal diaspora in the West. Does it survive another thousand years?
That is the million-dollar question. If you look strictly at the numbers in India, it looks bleak. But the energy in the diaspora is very different. You see people who are not ethnically Persian or Parsi becoming interested in the teachings. There are communities in places like Brazil and Scandinavia where people are adopting the faith because they find its message of environmental stewardship and ethical living very modern.
Environmental stewardship? How so?
Well, if you think about their core belief that the earth, water, and fire are sacred and should not be polluted, it is basically an ancient form of environmentalism. Zoroastrianism is often called the first "green" religion. In a world facing climate change, that aspect of the faith is becoming very attractive to people. They have rituals that involve protecting water sources and planting trees. In twenty twenty-six, as we are all dealing with the realities of the climate crisis, a religion that views the protection of nature as a literal religious duty feels incredibly relevant.
I had not thought of it that way, but it makes perfect sense. If your religious duty is to keep the elements pure, then protecting the environment is a literal act of worship.
Precisely. So, while the traditional ethnic structures might be under strain, the ideas are arguably more relevant than ever. The challenge for the community will be whether they can decouple the religion from the specific ethnic identity of being Parsi or Iranian. If they can, it could see a real renaissance. If they stay strictly exclusive, it might continue to fade into a very small, specialized community.
It is a tough balance. You do not want to lose the specific heritage that kept you alive for three thousand years, but you also do not want to become a historical footnote.
Exactly. And there are groups like the World Zoroastrian Organization that are trying to bridge these gaps, bringing together people from all over the world to discuss these very issues. They are using the internet to connect isolated families, providing online religious education for kids in the diaspora, and trying to create a global sense of community. There is even a project called the Parsi Genomes Project that is trying to map the genetic heritage of the community to understand their history and help with health issues specific to the group.
It is amazing how technology is helping these ancient faiths adapt. I suppose you can find the Gathas, the hymns of Zarathustra, on your smartphone now.
You absolutely can. And you can watch live-streamed lectures from Dasturs in Mumbai or scholars in London. It is a long way from the mountain temples of ancient Persia. One of the most interesting things about the Gathas—the seventeen hymns composed by Zarathustra himself—is that they are surprisingly philosophical. They do not read like a list of laws; they read like a man wrestling with the nature of existence and his place in it.
It really is. One thing that strikes me about this whole discussion is the resilience. To go from being the religion of an empire to a tiny minority, to survive migrations and persecutions and now demographic shifts, and still maintain those core rituals and beliefs. It is pretty inspiring.
It really is. It is a testament to the power of the ideas Zarathustra put forward. That idea that every single person, no matter how humble, is a soldier in a cosmic battle for the truth. That is a hard thing to kill. Even the Faravahar symbol, which you see everywhere now, represents the Fravashi—the part of the human soul that is divine and eternal. It is a reminder that we are all connected to something much larger than ourselves.
Well, I think that is a great place to start wrapping up. We have covered the history, the split between Iran and India, the demographic challenges, the Towers of Silence, the Kurdish revival, and the modern diaspora. Herman, any final thoughts?
I would just say that if anyone is listening and wants to learn more, they should look up the Gathas. They are incredibly poetic. And maybe look into the history of the Silk Road, because Zoroastrianism was the faith that traveled those routes, influencing everything from Buddhism in the East to Christianity in the West. It is a hidden thread in the tapestry of human history.
I will have to check those out. And for those of you listening, if you have any thoughts on today's episode or if you have a Zoroastrian background and want to share your experience, we would love to hear from you. We are always looking for personal stories that help bring these topics to life.
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You can find all our past episodes at my weird prompts dot com. We are available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and pretty much everywhere else you get your podcasts. We have some great episodes coming up on the history of alchemy and the linguistics of lost civilizations.
Alright, I think we have covered a lot of ground today. Thanks for the prompt, Daniel. It was a great excuse to dive into the Avesta again.
Yeah, thanks Daniel. This has been My Weird Prompts. I am Corn.
And I am Herman Poppleberry.
Until next time, stay curious.
Goodbye everyone. Stay righteous.
