I usually don’t do much research on the places I’m visiting (till I get there), but I managed some pre-reading to acquaint myself with Uzbekistan. The history of this country has a really interesting cast of characters – from Alexander the Great to Genghis Khan to Timur the Lame. With some Indian connections thrown in too – Babur and, of course, Lal Bahadur Shastri.
But Uzbekistan’s history, perhaps more than that of any other country, is inextricably tied-in with the silk route. For me, these words – silk route – conjure up images of long caravans of camels loaded with exotic goods traversing the dusty routes in Central Asia. After a hard day spent in the hot Sun, these traders-cum-travellers take a much-needed rest at a caravanserai. I also imagine a dusty market of Samarkhand or Bukhara where these traders, in long flowing robes and turbans, try and barter their goods to the wide-eyed locals under the gaze of the blue-domed mosques.
Ok ok, I am getting carried away.
The silk route was primarily a trading route between the then-known West and East namely,the Byzantium empire and China. This term was coined by a 19th C German geographer. Very often ‘silk route’ and ‘silk road’ have been used interchangeably - though most historians and academics prefer the former since there isn’t one road, and more importantly, sometimes there weren’t roads at all but dusty paths. There is general consensus that the trade on this route started around the 2nd C BC but like anything else in life (including the speed limit in the Universe, it seems), one is not sure.
The origin of silk has an interesting story – apparently one of the Chinese Queens accidentally dropped a silkworm into her tea and when she tried to pull it out – she got a silken thread – she had discovered the mystery of the silkworm. Uzbekistan is the third largest producer of the Silk after China and India.
Silk was sought after in the West and in the Byzantium empire. This was because its production was a Chinese monopoly as they guarded the secret of sericulture very closely – the rest of the world could only get their hands on it buying it from the Chinese. And that was the basis of the Silk trade (and perhaps, the Silk Route). It was only much later, in AD 550, that two monks smuggled back (from China) silk worm eggs hidden in their walking sticks. Slowly silk came to be made in the West also but the silk route still flourished because it was not, as many believe, primarily for the trade of silk.
So what was traded? Anything and everything – spices, teas, porcelain; ivory, textiles, precious stones, pepper; glassware, wine, carpets and even slaves. And, more importantly from a historical / cultural perspective, there was an exchange of ideas, skills, genes, diseases, inventions, and religions. Buddhism came to China (from India) via the silk route. Nestorianism (a sect of Christianity) also came to China (from Europe) through the silk route.
There were three major legs to this route – China, Central Asia, and the West. Covering 7000 kms, the route connected Chang’an (the then capital of China, now Xian) with Byzantium (now Istanbul). There were many off-shoots of this route – into Afghanistan, into India – that added to the variety of goods being carried and traded.
The route lost its importance in the 14th-15th centuries - many reasons are given for this - the decline of the Mongol empire and, more importantly, the opening of the sea route between Europe and India.
But the route retains its allure for tourists and historians.
I am one of the former.
So with that background I headed for Tashkent. The flight from Delhi is rather short – just 3 hours. But the timing was terrible – it took off post-midnight in Delhi and landed at about half-three in the morning in Tashkent. A good night wasted (considering I love my 8 hour sleep!).
The flight landing at 03:30 in the morning – there was a modicum of excitement I had to experience before I could get to my hotel. Immigration took ages. And that was not because I had an Indian passport (as has been my experience in the Schengen countries). What actually took time was the fact that there was a group of around 80 people on my flight (on some company sponsored jamboree) and I was not agile enough to cut ahead of them in the immigration line. So I had to twiddle my thumbs while these jumobreans were stamped in one by one. And when my turn finally came, it was a pleasantly short and smooth experience – the bespectacled gentleman at the counter shooed me in without a question or a second glance. Perhaps, I look the part of a seasoned traveller.
A word about the airport. Imagine something out of 60s Soviet Union and you have Tashkent Airport – complete with a ridiculous number of X-ray machines, cops, security guards, minders, plain-clothesmen. Even though I exaggerate, I am not really far off the mark.
I picked up my bag from the carousel and confidently marched towards the customs. Each ‘customs officer’ has a personal x-ray machine where he has an intimate look at the contents of your bags. He saw the form I had filled in and then with a look that said “oh you illiterate man” he asked me to fill it in duplicate. Once I did the needful, he went after the forms with all sorts of rubber stamps and scribbles and signatures.
Outside I looked for the guy holding a placard with my name on it. But there was none. So I began to worry – I had not converted my money into Uzbek money, AND my mobile was not working. So if this fellow, who was to ferry me to the hotel, did not show up – I was in an Uzbek soup. Then, as usually happens in such a situation, a few of those shady looking characters suddenly appeared and volunteered to ‘help’. Ya right! I ignored all of them while going through my papers to make sure that a transfer from the airport was included. It was five in the morning and I was in no hurry to get there (my night’s sleep had been spoilt anyways) so I decided to soak in the atmosphere. Then I noticed this guy with a sign that said ‘Ms. Chrath’. Could that be me? Gender and Name mutilated in one go. So I went to him and, deftly using sign language, explained that I was the Ms. and the Chrath he was looking for.
Obviously he did not believe me. He woke up a few unlucky fast-asleep people and after a few sleepy grumbles from the other side of the line, I was in the car to my hotel. This guy (with the Ms. Chrath placard) and his brother (who was driving) turned out to be extremely loquacious.
Their first question to me was ‘Are you Pakistani?’.
First gender and name screwed up. And now nationality. But obviously I didn’t mind it – after all it was five in the morning. When I corrected them on the nationality bit, they both fell into a pensive silence.
Wondering where this was leading, I tried to change the topic and asked them their names.
“My name is Ikhtiyar,” the older one said, “and this is my brother. His name is Shokhrukh”
He then broke into a smile and said, “Like Shahrukh Khan. Bollywood”.
Then both of them racked their brains to tell me more.
“Hum Tum,” said one brother
“Don,” said the other.
Given my utter lack of knowledge of Uzbek cinema I did not correct him on the ‘Hum Tum’ mistake.
Though all this Bollywood chat, I was worried that I had no local currency to give them a tip. So I politely asked them about the best place in Tashkent to change money. He gave me another smile and said ‘Here’. He opened the glove compartment and out came a few huge wads of the Uzbek currency (Som). In my guide book, I had read that it was perfectly ok to buy ‘off’ the market. So he quoted me a rate (“much better than the hotel”) – not believing him, but simultaneously not wanting to disappoint him totally, I bought some from him. Even though I bought precious little I got a ridiculously large wad of notes. Not surprising considering that 1 USD fetches anywhere between 1750 to 1800 Som. So even a 50 dollar change gets you about 72,000 Som in 1,000 Som notes!
I was reminded of the Italian Lira days!
So that was my introduction to Uzbekistan. After sightseeing in Tashkent - Khiva, Samarkhand, and Bukhara beckon.
