Susan A. Black

Garden on the Hill

There we stood, the three of us, our feet planted firmly at the entrance to the Towers of Silence at Doongerwadi in Mumbai, India. Our hope was to make our way to the viewing area where the Zoroastrians dispose of their dead. Vultures circled overhead.

At the time, Andrew, our English teacher friend, was living on the top floor of a twenty-four-storey apartment building near the “garden on the hill”. He would watch vultures circle the place, swoop down into a black hole, out of sight, and after an hour or more, he observed the scavengers fly out of the pit and perch precariously on the outlying trees. He thought the birds looked heavier.

It was our second time to India, but our first time to Mumbai. Andrew advised us to take a taxi from the airport to his house for tea. Once we arrived we settled in to familiar conversation.

“I got my binoculars and searched the area for what would cause the birds to be so attracted to it. What a shock!” Andrew said.

Tell us what you know about the area,” Frank said.

“A shop owner across from the site told me that it’s called the Tower of Silence and is used by the Zoroastrians to dispose of their dead. Apparently, they still use an old-age method of getting rid of dead bodies and consider it the most hygienic method,” Andrew said. “Here have a look at this.” He handed us a photocopy of the Tower showing the general layout and interior view.

Frank and I gazed at the diagram of the circular platform inside the Tower while Andrew read some information he’d gathered from the Internet. “The central well is about 300 feet in circumference and is entirely paved with large stone slabs divided into three rows of shallow open receptacles. The first row is for the corpses of the males, the second row for the women and the third row for corpses of children.”

“So, they lay the corpses on the slabs and let the vultures at them?” I said. Frank mumbled hmm under his breath. Was he as disgusted as I was?

“It says the clothes wrapped round the corpses are removed and destroyed immediately after they are placed in the Tower. At the Doongerwadi on Malabar Hill, there are 5 Dokhmas and a Chotra.’

“So, a Dokhmas is a Tower, but what is a Chotra?” I said.

Our friend snapped close the cover of his laptop and grabbed his apartment keys. “It’s used to dispose of amputated limbs. Hey, it’s just around the corner from here. Let’s go have a look!”

We walked out into the stifling tropical climate of India, navigating through the beggars and throngs of people on the sidewalks and arrived contentedly at the open gates to the Towers of Silence. I had expected to inhale the scents of death including the taste of copper that fills the back of my throat when I’m handling raw meat at home. Instead, the fragrance of exotic flowers filled my nostrils and sat gently on the tips of my lips. I smiled. Frank gripped my hand and moved forward toward the procession of people walking to the Tower; Andrew followed. The body of a deceased person was being carried on a flat board by corpse-bearers. The folks that followed were dressed in white flowing full dress robes. They strolled in pairs, each couple hand in hand holding a white handkerchief between them. We were stopped at the edge of the garden by two men, one older sporting a long grey beard; the other younger dressed immaculately in brilliant white.

“This is a private ceremony. You cannot go any further,” the older man said. “Who are you?”

Andrew spoke first. “I live just in that building over there and I’m curious, well, we’re all curious about this place. Can you help us understand it?”

The gentle man and his companion nodded and each lifted his left arm toward a series of buildings behind us. “We can explain everything to you while we enjoy a cup of tea. Come.”

After we were seated comfortably on benches, the young man disappeared for a short while and returned with steaming hot glasses of sweet tea. The atmosphere was calm and endearing. In front of us stood a large to-scale model of one of the Towers of Silence at this location. No matter the size, the architecture is the same. Our teacher was a High Priest whose duty included educating the non-Zoroastrian population on the practice of avoiding contaminating the earth with a dead body. His voice was low and monotone. His English pronunciation was perfect. I removed my small notepad and pen from my backpack and began recording.

“All creations of God are useful and pure; and they should not be unnecessarily spoiled or polluted. The earth, water, and fire, are good, useful and holy creations of God. We believe that Yazata, a Spiritual Being, presides over each good and holy creation of God. To spoil or pollute any of these creations is sinful. A dead body, if not properly and ceremoniously disposed of, is a possible source of pollution and disease; and it is therefore enjoined to dispose of the body ceremoniously and with proper care so that least possible harm is caused to other creations and creatures.”

Andrew interrupted. “I’m Catholic and we bury our dead in coffins. How do Baha’is dispose of their dead?” He directed his question at Frank and me.

“We bury our dead in the ground too,” Frank said and gestured to our teacher to continue.

I could tell that the High Priest was used to curious questions from strangers. I was intrigued by the unique system of disposal that is the most perfect solution of dead bodies in hot yet moist tropical climes. I was used to hearing about religious-driven rituals and the passion associated with them by believers. I listened intently as our teacher explained how after the corpse has been eaten away by vultures within a short period of time the bones remain exposed to the cleansing rays of the sun, to be removed ultimately to the central pit. He assured us that all physical components that make up an individual are dissolved with death in a natural way, to be reassembled at the time of Resurrection. I wrote: explore other religions interpretation of resurrection.

“Allow me to describe the structure of the Tower of Silence using this model. The circular platform inside the Tower, about 300 feet in circumference, is entirely paved with large stone slabs well cemented and divided into three rows of shallow open receptacles, corresponding with the three moral precepts of the Zoroastrian Religion – “good thoughts”, “good words”, and “good deeds”. The first row marked A, is for the corpses of males. The second row marked B, for corpses of females. The third row marked C, for corpses of children. These are the foot paths for corpse-bearers to move about.” The High Priest stepped back and paused. “Do you have any questions, so far?” he said.

We shook our heads in unison. I prepared to record again in my practiced short hand.

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