India, April 25 -- Much like Malgudi, to which the author alludes, which captured the quintessential, pastoral Indian childhood, Navsari Tales, a collection of short stories set in the eponymous town, captures the quintessential Parsi idyll. Except that Navsari is a real place and the stories in this volume aren't pure fiction, even though Berjis Desai's characters run the full spectrum of human oddities. In typical Bawaji fashion, there is the usual vegetarian-and-teetotaler-bashing, with special mention made of Morarji Desai. There is writing about heavy lunches, followed by siestas and ungodly amounts of chai. There are extremely creative limericks and much bawdy wordplay in Gujarati that no translation can do justice to. And there is a focus on the elitism and snobbery that are the hallmarks of a large Parsi mohalla. Central to Desai's humour is the eccentricity of the Parsi tongue, our system of naming things, such as the "dharaka no bungalow', dharaka meaning explosion; a reference to both a physical explosion of a bomb and the gastric one of the owner. The humour is uniquely ribald: there's the Parsi lawyer who mishears "trying" for "frying", and the use of phrases such as "kone hawa bagaadi?", a euphemism for "who broke wind?" The number of times constipation is mentioned in this slim volume immediately marks it out as an apt memoir of the Parsi way of life. Desai also makes a rather shrewd observation about the "bastardisation" of Gujarati, expounding on the connection between the purity of language spoken and the orthodoxy of its speaker. The depiction of Parsis is free of the usual stereotyping. This is not about an eccentric minority being ridiculed by others. In the Navsari of the immediate post-Independence period, we were the bullies, the majority. This is, in some sense, how Parsis behave when no one is watching. In Desai's retelling, the Parsi is a creature of satire who has enough faith in the universe to take revenge on their enemies and finds the chaos of everyday life ironic. Take, for instance, the child- marriage ceremony of Mumai that results in an asexual, childless married life and the silence that follows a surprising turn of events. Then, there's the greed of a man who steals a choker from a widow and is, in turn, punished. And the mistress of a prominent lawyer who drags him to court after he jilts her. There is also the doctor whose compounder has a mind of his own when it comes to dispensing medicine. In remembering these stories, Desai also manages to present a fairly accurate history of Navsari and Bombay, including the bubonic plague of 1896. The collection is tied together by characters who reappear throughout the book in different contexts and in a variety of hilarious and poignant situations. Navsari Tales is a sharp commentary on the classism and hypocrisy that feature not only in the community's dealings with non-Parsis but also in how members deal with each other. Bai Bai, Karasyo! is a hilarious tale of how Navsari's elite is infiltrated by a simpleton who proposes the most ingenious cure for the common cold. In other stories, the stunning practicality of marrying one's cousins is well argued. Desai also evokes, in great detail, an India of the 1950s where the slow permeation of technology into small towns meant that radios and even train travel were reserved for special occasions. Also mentioned are occult practices, talismans, exorcisms, superstitions and traditional beliefs both of Parsi origin and those borrowed from others, practised in the town. These are juxtaposed against the beliefs and ways of the hardliners or what the author terms "the Navsari orthodox". Most fascinatingly, Desai mentions the alternate physicians, home cures, family remedies, and a Parsi priest who doubled as the town messenger, often inviting the wrong people to weddings! It can be said that many of Desai's stories head nowhere, but that is the point. This is a portrait of a people in a small place collectively set on dispelling boredom. So, random acts of cruelty and violence are executed solely for the purposes of entertainment. The capturing of this "why not" attitude is what makes Navsari Tales so relatable. In Animal Farm, two neighbouring households are on excellent terms. But while one pelts the howling dogs at night, the other bandages the same wounds on the dogs in the morning, all in complete view of each other. Occasionally, in some stories, this formula of the story-for-the-story's-sake fails to pique the reader's interest. Still, Navsari Tales is a humorous look at a way of life erased by migration to megacities. Where in a metropolis would you find a thumri-humming, sunglasses-wearing dasturji like the peerless one in Navsari? Much like Narayan, Desai creates nostalgia for a simpler time. For Parsis, this will be a bittersweet look at life before the Bombay Baug; for the rest, this is a wonderful introduction to the unique flavour of life in a small-town Parsi enclave....