From Uzbekistan with love
OF late, Indians have been travelling in droves to Uzbekistan, thanks to the proximity of this landlocked country, which is just a two-and-a-half-hour flight from New Delhi. What’s more, food and accommodation are cheap there due to its weak currency, and the beautiful country has a rich history. To cap it all, the people are friendly. Uzbeks have special love for Indians.
At Khiva, a city on the old Silk Road, I was trying to take a photograph of a splendid minaret when two women approached me and said: ‘Namaskar, India’. Then, they exclaimed: ‘Mithun’. When I asked: ‘Mithun Chakraborty?’, they giggled and crooned: ‘Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, aaja aaja aaja…’ — a song from his famous film Disco Dancer.
Without pausing for breath, they rattled off names of Bollywood stars — Amitabh Bachchan, Shah Rukh Khan, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan and Kareena Kapoor.
Even though part of our communication was lost in translation, I learned how much Uzbeks loved Indians and Bollywood. The women told me that Uzbeks watched a lot of Indian films and recalled how popular Mithun’s films had been in the erstwhile Soviet Union. Impressed, I happily posed for a photograph with them before trotting off to find my companions.
At restaurants, parks, streets and malls, locals uninhibitedly began a conversation in fragmented English and asked for selfies. They thanked us with handshakes, hugs or flying kisses. It amused us that we had become celebrities of sorts in this former Soviet republic and felt honoured that Uzbeks expressed so much warmth and love for Indians.
At the crowded Chorsu Bazaar in Tashkent, some vendors, joining their palms, bellowed: ‘Hello, dost. Namaste, India’. Others mentioned Taj Mahal, Raj Kapoor, Kajol, Preity Zinta, Yeh hai Mumbai meri jaan…
One evening, when we were dining in a restaurant that had once been a caravanserai, it wasn’t surprising to hear a musician singing that classic Hindi film song: ‘Mera joota hai Japani…Phir bhi dil hai Hindustani…’
A septuagenarian in our group, unfortunately, had a bad fall in a street and was rushed to hospital. She was screaming in pain. While the doctor was attending to her injured wrist, he started singing Hindi film songs. The heart-warming gesture diverted her attention from all the pain.
Last but not least, we saw a statue of former Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri as well as a school and a street named after him in Tashkent, where he died in 1966, a day after signing the peace treaty that ended the India-Pakistan conflict.
Language can be a barrier to communication at times, but after visiting Uzbekistan, I realised that you don’t really need language to communicate. A deep connection is enough to open doors to a conversation.
