Unforgettable

Welcome to Kyrgyzstan," announced the flight attendant, in heavily accented Russian as our rusty plane landed at Manas International Airport in Bishkek. The flight into Bishkek had been spartan - to put it mildly. In Delhi, where I embarked on this voyage, chaotic scenes in the aisles greeted me when I leisurely sauntered into the Kyrgyzstan Airlines plane. Passengers were pushing, pulling and prodding for - seats! Yes, free seating was the name of the game, along with tattered upholstery and box lunches. Unaccustomed to the exuberance of filching airline seats, Yours Truly was relegated to the deep environs of the plane. Once on terra firma, it was time to thank god, profusely, for his small mercies - at least the flight was smooth - and time to face the unknown. 

The unknown in question was Kyrgyzstan, the mountainous former Soviet Union state, roughly the size of the UK, situated north of the Himalayas between China, Kazakhstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. Frigid temperatures and a dagger-edged breeze were the first to welcome us as we huddled out of the plane. On the half-hour drive into the capital, Bishkek, the paradoxes that filled this land were starkly visible. Our car, often travelling for miles with no other vehicle in sight, seemed out of place on the wide, six-lane highway. It wasn't just this road that was deserted. As time made it clear, cars were scarce in this country where poverty reigned supreme. But the roads, built during an era of plenty when the Soviet Union was in control would befit any industrialized nation in terms of condition and size. 

Trees and hedges beautifully accentuated the roads in Bishkek, which only became broader. Nearly 1/5 of Kyrgyzstan's five million people live in the capital. Still, Bishkek was a quiet city. At its liveliest, similar to a Sunday in Galle. The city's beauty was breathtaking in its contrast. Well-planned avenues, regal low-rise apartments, manicured parks and squares added a dimension of man-made beauty to a city surrounded by snow-capped peaks that rose majestically above the clouds. A little bit like Geneva, but not quite. As my time in the country confirmed, this was a land that scoffed at comparisons and laughed at cliches.

Bishkek was a microcosm. It symbolized not only Kyrgyzstan's beauty but also its poverty. As I wandered in Bishkek's commercial hub, a sprinkling of people trickled into the few shops and bazaars that adorned the city centre. Even fewer attempted to buy anything. Not surprising since 51 per cent of the population lives below the poverty line. Disposable incomes are in short supply here. With a GNP per capita of a mere 300 US dollars, those lucky to be employed can barely make ends meet. 

There was an amazing form of brain drain taking place in this country. Highly skilled workers were clamouring for blue-collar work. Qualified professionals - doctors, engineers, scientists and the like - were not leaving the country but taking lowly but stable jobs. There were doctors working as truck drivers; heart surgeons working as chauffeurs for the newly rich, capitalist tsars; and PhDs in electronic engineering working as housemaids. The reason for such employment was simple: they got paid much more and on a more frequent basis than if they stuck at their highly exalted but lowly paid public sector jobs. 

It wasn't always like this. From 1876 to 1991, when the country was under Russia and later the Soviet Union, Kyrgyzstan was a small but integral part of the mighty USSR's industrial complex. It provided the rest of the Soviet Union with metallurgical goods, such as tin, coal, mercury, lead and gold, in return for other industrial and agricultural goods. Once the Soviet Union disintegrated in 1991, the economy collapsed as well. Busy factories and enterprises became dormant, corroding within an economic standstill. The present government, trying hard to salvage the economy with help from foreign aid and investors, has taken out the country's trump card. Tourism is touted as the possible panacea for the land's economic ills.

Tourism being what it is, it seemed only natural that Issyk-Kul, the largest mountainous lake and premier resort destination in the country, be the next stop on my itinerary. The drive to this upland haven, five hours from Bishkek, turned out to be as memorable as the place itself. Never had I witnessed such geographic variety within such proximity. Flat green pastures, where sheep grazed and shepherds mounted on splendid horses kept watch, gave way to a series of deciduous knolls. A little away, the luscious green scenery turned into a series of earth-toned hues. Barren earth, interspersed with gigantic rock ridges and gorges, provided for a decidedly desert landscape. Beyond these mammoth crags, were the ubiquitous snow-capped ranges idly reaching beyond the clouds. Now, I understood the hopes they pinned on tourism. What explorer, adventurer or sportsman wouldn't be attracted by such "celestial" delights?

Bishkek was pounding with excitement when I returned from the lake city. The country was getting ready to mark the millennium celebrations. A tad late I figured before I was enlightened on the exact nature of the festivities. The country was preparing to celebrate the third millennium since the founding of its ancient capital, Osh. Centuries before the Soviet Union took over this land, Kyrgyzstan had boasted of one of the oldest civilizations in Asia. Stone instruments dating back to the early Paleolithic period and petroglyphs carved on boulders confirm this. Kyrgyzstan was also a popular spot in the Great Silk Road, the caravan trade route that linked the East and West during the Ancient and Middle Ages.

Maybe it is this ancient civilization that has imbibed the value of culture and tradition in the Kyrgyz people. Respect for elders, women, tradition and education holds a special place in Kyrgyz culture. Along the countryside, families build "yats" - temporary igloo like huts - as a people renowned for their nomadic ways continue their traditions. In cities and villages alike, the reverence clearly shown to elders is endearing to outsiders jaded by the absence of such values in their world. In the case of women, the statistics speak for themselves. Out of every 1000 women over the age of 16, 806 hold university degrees. The share of women in healthcare and education stands at 68 percent while nearly half of the postgraduate students are women. 

This place is like no other. Kyrgyzstan seems lost in time while the rest of the world has moved at warp speed. This Central Asian gem is polished not by the staggering development and dynamism of its economy but by the perennial, untouchable beauty of its land. Its gleam comes not from the urbane sophistication of its people but from their innate warmth and intelligence. 

It was time to bid goodbye, and once again I found myself languishing at the back of the line. It didn't matter this time if I was banished to the deeper limits of the plane. I wanted to savour every bit of this land, until the last minute. Kyrgyzstan does that to people. It casts a spell so subtly but expertly, making sure its entrenched in the beholder's mind. 

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