Dread of Evil Spirits

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 520, 24 November 1928, Page 16

Dread of Evil Spirits

DEATH ROOM OF MYSTERY

Parsee’s Battle with Fate

A WEB of superstition, the cloud of impending doom and the fatalism of the Orient surrounded the end of a Parsee, who gassed himself in a Sunbury (Thames) bungalow. The circumstances were as unusual as they were dramatic.

'jy£R. JEHANCIR RUSTOMJI DARUVELL was a person of note and accomplishments, says a special correspondent in the “Sunday News.” He was well known . round Sun-bury-—a picturesque riverside resort where the air is pure, the anglers find a paradise and the environment is suggestive of peaceful retirement. He was a man of middle age, married to an English girl of culture, beauty and artistic instinct. The wife was devoted to her Eastern husband, who had become blind. Almost daily she could be watched leading him along the streets or sitting with him by the river-side. His infirmity and his increasing irritability led at last to a quarrel over a trifle. It appears that he wanted a chicken cooked and that he grew impatient, lost his temper and struck his wife. Mrs. Daruvell afterwards left the bungalow, and a friend who called received no reply. He waited a while and then came back. He knocked several times, and there was a silence as of death. He looked around. The waters of the Thames were flowing sullenly by. Growing alarmed, he telephoned to the police, who came, broke into the bungalow and found the Parsee, snuggled under an eiderdown quilt, dead. The gas had been turned on, and the end had come quietly and apparently without agony. Superstition of the Orient There were no letters, nothing which gave any motive for the act — it could not have been due to) the “tiff” with his devoted wife —but at hand were images of Mathru —-the sun deity—and of Farvardin —who directs the souls of those who depart in the faith. In the bedroom were statues of other deities than those he reverenced, Buddha, Confucius, in addition to Jujus, amulets, and pieces of sacred “jade,” such as was mentioned by Sir Edward Arnold in his Oriental masterpieces. Daruvell had all the superstition of the Orient. Everything of decoration was designed to ward off evil spirits. Even the windows wore emblems that are said to save those who are In peril. And all this was in keeping with the character of the man. He was born in Bombay, and had talked to friends of his wish to be buried in the Towers of Silence —where the vultures prey upon the mortal remains of the departed. A deeply religious man, Ue had wandered about muttering texts from the Zend Avstis, and it was known that he spent hours in prayer. He often talked about his departure from life, and one of his associates told that he had said to him, “The certainty of death appals me, though, really, I have no dread of it. It is coming soon. I can only prepare for the inevitable. I hear constantly the flutter of the wings of the angel of death.” Once Worth £IO,OOO a year He had tried in vain to commit suicide some two years ago, and yet, despite his premonition, he wore a happy smile and was always ready with a jest and a laugh. He was goodlooking, of olive complexion, with an aquiline nose and eyes that had once been bright and black. Even tbe oncoming of blindness did not seem to have disturbed him. The only thing which did worry him, indeed, was the knowledge—as he put it—that he would be overtaken by a fate he was powerless to resist. My inquiries into his career show that he has been a man of many vicissitudes. He was at one time the favoured child of fortune. A business associate said to me: “I knew him well and intimately. He was an expert in antiques and precious stones. At a glance he could tell the difference between the fake and the real. He imported goods from India and from China. And he was known to -all the leading store dealers of London. He was often called in when there was a dispute, and his was the last word. He was recognised as an unequalled expert. Another of his associates told me that at one time he was a very wealthy man. He lived at a great pace, had a town and country house, and “spent money like water.” “Indeed,” said my informant, “he was popularly supposed to be making £IO,OOO a year, and once told me that he was on the way to becoming a very rich man. During the war he imported some cheap jewellery, including jade and imitation pearls, and sold them at an enormous profit. He had agents everywhere, and he knew everything about buying and selling. He was keen on a bargain, but at the same time he was surpassingly generous, and often said that money was to be made for the good it could do, and not to be hoarded. Even in his prosperous days he was haunted by the fear of a violent death. There are many of us, who were intimate associates, who heard him say that there was some little devilish imp hovering over him which impelled him to an unnatural death. “It is Fate” Then there came a period when, as he frequently prophesied, his good luck failed him, and his fortunes came crashing down in noisy ruin. He grew more and more depressed, though he always believed in the slogan that he had often uttered: “It is fate; why should one fight against it?” About two years ago his finances failed him, his creditors became pressing, and he was compelled to file his petition in bankruptcy. It was a trying time, but he attempted to appear cheerful, and somehow he managed to keep up his bungalow on the riverside. The blindness was the result of worry, and perhaps the premonition of disaster hastened the end. But this is to be said —that he bravely carried on, and, though blind, drove with his wife almost aily to London, la lid Good Carpenter's Aprons— Bert Marshall’s, -

and was able 3)3' touch to distinguish between false gems and real. Sometimes he sent a consignment to an auction room in King Street, and so managed to make both ends meet. But the affliction and the depression were telling their tale, and the end came. They will miss the dead Parsee in Sunbury. Everybody knew and liked him. They spoke of him even in the palatial mansion given to the Salvation Army hard by, whjre the officers of the army come for rest and fresh air. Many of his countrymen came to the mortuary where his remains reposed. They wished to pay their last respects to their dead friend. I talked to one of them as vve stood near the bungalow where Daruvell heard the “crack of doom.” He said, in that low, suave voice of the Parsee: “I understand that our friend knew that the end was not far distant. He had the prevision which is given to some Orientals. . . . He did all that was possible to ward the evil off. . . The Sun Deity willed otherwise, and our brother’s soul will rest.”