“Like Us, You’re In Between”: Parsi Identity as Liminal Becoming in Contemporary Historical Crime Novels of Bombay

In the study of how people see themselves and how societies change, scholars often look at groups caught between two worlds. They might ask whether a community is simply "mixed," blending two cultures into a new whole, or whether it is "marginal," pushed to the edges and excluded from the center. These are useful ways to think about identity, but they do not always capture the feeling of being stuck in the middle of a journey that never seems to finish. A different idea, called liminality, offers a sharper tool. Originally developed by anthropologists to describe the awkward, in-between stage of a rite of passage—like the time between leaving childhood and becoming an adult—this concept suggests that some groups live in a permanent state of transition. They are not just mixed or excluded; they are constantly moving across a threshold without ever arriving at a final destination. This state is not a mistake or a temporary glitch; for some communities, it is the defining condition of their existence, shaped by history, politics, and the daily choices they make about how to live.

A recent study by researchers Muhsina Najeeb and Joseph Koyippally Joseph explores this idea through the lens of three historical crime novels set in Bombay, now Mumbai. The authors chose these stories not because they are fiction, but because the genre of the historical mystery pays close attention to the small details of daily life: what people wear, what they eat, where they live, and how they speak. By examining novels set in 1892, 1921, and 1950, the researchers trace the experience of the Parsi community, a small group of Zoroastrians who settled in India centuries ago. The study argues that the Parsi identity is best understood not as a finished product, but as an ongoing process of becoming. The community adopted many British customs, from English clothing and education to specific ways of eating, yet these changes never allowed them to fully become "British" in the eyes of the colonizers, nor did they allow them to be fully accepted as "Indian" by their neighbors. Instead, they remained in a state of liminality, a permanent doorway where they were useful to the empire but never fully belonged to it.

The researchers found that this state of in-betweenness was not accidental; it was actively maintained by various forces. The British colonial government needed intermediaries who could bridge the gap between rulers and the ruled, so they encouraged the Parsis to adopt Western habits while keeping them at arm's length from true power. At the same time, the Parsi community itself policed its own boundaries, fearing that mixing too much with outsiders would cause the group to disappear. As the British left and India became independent, the situation did not resolve. The new nation viewed the Parsis with suspicion, seeing their British habits as a sign of collaboration with the former rulers. The novels show that even as the community solved crimes and restored order in their specific stories, the larger social order never offered them a stable place to stand. The detective in each story finds the killer and closes the case, but the community itself remains in the same unsettled position it started in.

One of the most striking ways this liminality appears in the books is through clothing. The researchers point out that for the Parsis, changing clothes was not just a fashion choice but a ritual that never finished. In the stories, characters often wear British suits or dresses, but underneath, they still wear the sacred garments of their faith. A woman might wear a modern sari, but beneath it, she keeps a sacred cord tied around her waist. A man might wear a Victorian-style jacket, but he still wears the traditional white tunic underneath. This layering shows that the community was trying to move into a new world without ever taking off the old one. They were dressed for a ceremony that had no end, wearing the costume of a new status without ever receiving the official permission to claim it. The researchers note that this is different from simply being "hybrid" or mixed; it is a specific kind of tension where the old and new exist side by side, neither fully replacing the other.

Food offers another clear example of this permanent transition. The novels describe dinner tables where British dishes like sausage and pudding sit alongside traditional Indian curries. In one scene, a family eats a meal that mixes English and Indian elements, ending with a ritual of washing hands in bowls of water, a practice that blends different traditions. The researchers explain that eating together is usually a way for a group to say, "We are one family." But for the Parsis, this act of eating did not lead to a feeling of complete belonging. Instead, it highlighted their difference. When they ate British food, they were criticized by nationalists for being too Western. When they ate traditional food, they were seen as holding onto the past. The act of eating became a weekly reminder that they were in between, unable to fully join either side. The researchers found that this was not just a matter of taste, but a deep psychological state where the community was constantly negotiating its place in the world.

The study also looks at where these characters live and how they move through the city. The Parsis lived in specific neighborhoods that were once the heart of the colonial city, but by the time of the later novels, these areas felt like islands. The researchers describe how the community's homes were filled with English furniture and pianos, yet they also contained shrines to their ancient gods. This created a physical space that was split down the middle. In one novel, a character lives in a basement police station, literally underneath the wealthy hill where the Parsi elite lived. This geography mirrors their social position: they are close to power, yet separated from it. The detectives in the stories can move between different parts of the city and different social groups, but they cannot move the community itself to a new, stable location. They can cross the threshold, but they cannot cross it completely.

Education played a similar role in keeping the community in this state of transition. The Parsis embraced English education enthusiastically, sending their children to schools in London and studying law in English. This gave them skills and status, but it also created a divide. The researchers note that the English language became a tool that allowed Parsi women to challenge old rules within their own community, yet it also made them feel like outsiders in their own homes. A woman might use an English word to explain a biological fact to her family, but in doing so, she was using a language that felt foreign to her own traditions. The education that was supposed to lift them up also kept them suspended, giving them the vocabulary to describe their own confusion. The novels show that this education did not lead to a clear new identity; instead, it gave them the tools to navigate a world that was constantly changing around them.

The researchers argue that the reason the Parsi community never found a stable place is that no one was there to officiate the final step of the journey. In traditional rites of passage, there is usually a leader or a ceremony that marks the end of the transition and welcomes the person into their new role. In the case of the Parsis, the British left, the Indian nation was unsure how to treat them, and their own community leaders were more focused on keeping the group pure than on helping them integrate. The result was a situation where the community was constantly being asked to move, but no one ever said, "You have arrived." The novels reflect this by showing that while the crimes are solved, the social questions remain open. The detectives restore order to the immediate crisis, but they cannot fix the larger problem of where the community belongs.

This study suggests that the feeling of being "in between" is not just a personal struggle for the Parsis, but a structural condition created by history. It is not a sign that the community failed to adapt, but rather that the world around them kept changing the goalposts. The researchers emphasize that this state of liminality has both benefits and costs. On one hand, it gave the Parsis unique skills, allowing them to see things from multiple perspectives and to act as bridges between different groups. On the other hand, it led to a deep sense of loneliness and self-doubt. The characters in the novels often feel that they are not quite Indian enough and not quite British enough, a feeling that creates a constant anxiety about whether they will survive as a distinct group. The researchers found that this anxiety is not just about numbers, but about the very meaning of their existence.

Ultimately, the paper concludes that the Parsi identity in these novels is a story of becoming, not of being. It is a narrative of a community that is always in motion, always crossing a threshold, but never reaching the other side. The researchers do not say this is a tragedy or a failure, but rather a specific way of living that has been shaped by the forces of colonialism and nationalism. By using the concept of liminality, they offer a new way to understand how a small group can survive for centuries in a changing world. The study shows that sometimes, the most important thing is not where you end up, but how you manage to keep moving when the destination keeps shifting. The novels serve as a record of this movement, capturing the details of a life lived in the doorway, where the past and the future are always present, and the present is a constant work in progress.