Flying from Delhi to Tashkent, the geography of the region unfolds with remarkable clarity. The Uzbekistan airlines aircraft passes over Peshawar, Pakistan, before the landscape rises sharply towards the formidable ranges of the Hindu Kush and the Pamirs. Then, almost abruptly, the mountains give way to an immense expanse of flat land stretching towards Central Asia. The flight ends in a hot, windswept Tashkent.

It is striking how close Central Asia is to northern India. Delhi and Tashkent are barely two and a half hours apart by air and this is roughly the same flying time between Delhi and Mumbai. Yet the mountains that once appeared to divide these regions have never truly kept them apart. For centuries, people, armies, merchants, ideas and religions have crossed these formidable barriers, creating connections between South and Central Asia that remain visible even today.

I was travelling through Uzbekistan for ten days, visiting Tashkent, Khiva, Bukhara and Samarkand, entirely by train. But the journey was also, in a sense, a return to a region I had encountered professionally more than a decade earlier. With a population of nearly 38 million, Uzbekistan’s geography gives it particular importance. It borders every other Central Asian state as well as Afghanistan, making it a natural crossroads within the region.

In 2015, as project manager of a United Nations project focused on Central Asia, I worked closely with diplomats and officials from countries including the United States, Russia and China. Part of my responsibility involved liaising with diplomatic missions in New York and Central Asian governments as we organised a regional conference on border management. One such conference in Ashgabat, Turkmenistan, came at a time of heightened international concern over foreign fighters from Central Asia travelling to the Middle East to join extremist groups like ISIS.

Intricate blue-tiled architecture of a historic Samarkand madrasa.

Luv Puri

That experience had introduced me to Central Asia through diplomatic meetings, policy discussions and conference rooms. The trip also offered an early lesson in travelling through Central Asia. My baggage arrived late, and the airline staff were taciturn and hardly apologetic. One of my colleagues had warned me beforehand that communication could be difficult: Russian was the principal language of communication, and responses in English could be limited. With no formal clothes for the conference, I had little choice but to borrow my colleague’s oversized shirt. It was an amusingly inauspicious beginning to my engagement with the region.

Travelling through Uzbekistan years later offered an entirely different perspective. The borders, cities and infrastructure that had once been subjects of professional discussions were now visible from the ground. Communication could still be challenging, but it was far easier than on my earlier visit to Central Asia. Google Translate provided a useful workaround, while a growing number of young English speakers, particularly in the cities and tourist areas, made navigating the country considerably easier.

Long forgotten and often viewed in the 19th and 20th century primarily through the prism of the Great Game between the British Empire and Russia, Central Asia was far more than a peripheral theatre of imperial rivalry. Geographically, it stood at the crossroads of South Asia, Europe, Xinjiang, Iran and the wider Eurasian world, making it a vital corridor for the movement of people, ideas, cultures and commerce. In Uzbekistan, one frequently encounters maps tracing the various arteries of the Silk Road. One such map shows a route linking South Asia with Central Asia through Ladakh and Xinjiang in present-day China, offering a reminder of how closely these regions were connected long before the emergence of modern borders.

Tashkent, the port of entry, is a city of contrasts. Soviet-era architecture and monumental avenues exist alongside modern hotels, restaurants, shopping areas and new construction. Wide roads and spacious public areas reflect the planning traditions of the Soviet period. At the Uzbekistan Hotel, one gets a glimpse of the importance Tashkent once enjoyed as a diplomatic venue during the Soviet era.

There are longstanding stories that foreign guests were monitored or that parts of the hotel were bugged during the Soviet period. Whether every such story is true is difficult to establish, but they capture something of the atmosphere associated with that era. The city hosted the famous Tashkent Conference in January 1966, where Indian Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri and Pakistani President Ayub Khan met under Soviet mediation following the 1965 India-Pakistan war. The talks resulted in the Tashkent Declaration, signed on January 10, 1966, with Soviet Premier Alexei Kosygin playing a central mediating role.

From Tashkent, I travelled by train. The newer Uzbek trains were remarkably comfortable, modern and clean. In my experience, their cleanliness compared favourably with some of the trains I have travelled on in Europe. The Silk Road has not disappeared. Its infrastructure has changed. Travelling from Tashkent to Khiva, one can see the landscape gradually changing as the desert becomes more prominent. A distance of above 700 km from Tashkent to Khiva is completed in seven and a half hours in a comfortable train journey.

Situated on the western side, Khiva had a distinct character of its own, shaped by its place in the historic region of Khorezm, one of the ancient centres of civilisation in Central Asia. Inside the walls of Itchan Kala, the old inner city, mud-brick buildings, turquoise domes, minarets, mosques and madrasas create an extraordinary sense of continuity. Walking through its narrow streets, it is possible to imagine the city as a major stop on the old routes linking Central Asia with Persia, the West Asia and South Asia. But the Silk Road was never simply the romantic highway of popular imagination. Commerce existed alongside conquest, political rivalry and slavery. Cities prospered and declined as rulers and empires changed. Khiva’s history was not only about trade. It was shaped by the power struggles of Khorezm, by conquest and rivalry, and by the harsh geography that made control of an oasis city strategically important.

The borders visible on today’s map can therefore be misleading when looking at Central Asian history. Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Turkmenistan are modern states. For much of history, however, people, armies, languages and merchants moved across spaces that now belong to different countries.

The Registan Square illuminated at night in Samarkand.

Luv Puri

On the journey back towards Tashkent, Bukhara felt more intimate. I had known the name long before visiting it. In Punjabi, there is an old saying: “Jehri mauj Chajju de chubare, na oh Balkh na Bukhare. (There is no pleasure like that of Chajju’s rooftop, not even in Balkh or Bukhara.) The proverb is revealing. Bukhara and Balkh (now in present-day Afghanistan) were not merely distant names in the Punjabi imagination. They were part of a wider geographical and cultural world that had long been connected with northern India through trade, scholarship, religion and political movements. Bukhara is not simply an archaeological site or a collection of restored monuments. Its mosques, madrasas, bazaars and courtyards remain embedded in everyday life.

Central Asia was also an important centre in the history of Islam. Islam began taking root early in the region in the seventh and eighth centuries and became deeply established over subsequent centuries. Yet older cultural layers survived. Iranian traditions and influences associated with the pre-Islamic Zoroastrian world can still be seen in aspects of art, archaeology and cultural memory. The result is a civilisation built in layers rather than replacing one era completely with another.

Then came Samarkand. If Tashkent represents modern Uzbekistan and Khiva and Bukhara preserve different layers of their mediaeval past, Samarkand represents the grandeur of the empires that once ruled this part of Central Asia. The Registan is the most spectacular expression of that legacy. The city’s historic monuments have undergone extensive restoration, giving them an extraordinary visual splendour. Timur dominates much of Samarkand’s historical imagination. Outside Central Asia, history books and popular culture have often portrayed Amir Timur primarily through his conquests and the violence associated with them. In Uzbekistan, the Timurid period is also remembered for the political power, architecture, scholarship and cultural achievements that developed under Timur and his successors.

I visited the Amir Timur mausoleum and several monuments associated with the Timurids. Timur has been elevated as an important national figure in independent Uzbekistan and has become part of the country’s post-Soviet effort to reclaim and reinterpret its pre-Soviet history. The political geography of Timur’s world was also very different from today’s. Timur emerged from the Barlas, a Turco-Mongol group rooted in Central Asia. The empires of his time did not conform to today’s national boundaries. Their territories extended across areas that are now part of several different countries, including parts of Persia, Afghanistan and South Asia.

Listening to oral histories, one finds it difficult to place ruling dynasties neatly into fixed categories, because the history of Central Asia was shaped by a complex exchange of languages, traditions and cultural influences. Timur and other ruling groups of Mongol origin, for instance, became Turkic-speaking over time while also absorbing a strong Persian cultural and administrative imprint. The result was not a simple transition from one cultural identity to another, but a layered process in which Mongol, Turkic and Persian traditions interacted and were continually reshaped.

A colourful spice and dry-fruit stall at a local market.

Luv Puri

Babur illustrates this fluidity particularly well. A great-great-grandson of Timur, he was born in the Fergana Valley, moved through Kabul and eventually established the Mughal dynasty in India. The Mughals actually did retain Turkic, specifically Chagatai Turkic, for a time, but they gradually shifted toward Persian as their principal court and administrative language in India.

There is an inscription at a palace built during Timur’s reign that captures the monumental ambition of his rule: “If you doubt our power, look at our buildings.” Food provides another connection between the past and present. Plov, rice cooked with meat, carrots and spices, is almost a national institution. And then there are the melons. Their prominence in Uzbek markets reminds one of Babur’s affection for the melons, recorded in the Baburnama.

Uzbekistan lies at the heart of Central Asia, owing to its strategic location, large population and extraordinary historical legacy. With a population of around 38 million and per capita income approaching $4,000, it is the region’s most populous country and one of its most consequential economies. While Kazakhstan has emerged as an upper-middle-income country with $ 14,000 per capita income, Uzbekistan’s demographic weight, its population is nearly twice that of Kazakhstan, gives it considerable geopolitical and economic significance in Central Asia.

My own visit coincided with an international chess competition in Samarkand. The UAE had sent a strong delegation to observe the organisation and preparations for the event, as it is scheduled to host the next championship in 2028. It was another reminder of the increasingly international character of the city as it not only as a historical crossroads of the Silk Road, but also as a contemporary venue for diplomacy, sport and international engagement.

Statue of Nasreddin, the legendary Central Asia wit, riding his donkey at Bukhara.

Luv Puri

That international engagement is increasingly visible in Uzbekistan’s economic and strategic relationships as well. China has become the largest individual source of foreign investment and loans in Uzbekistan. In 2024, Chinese investment accounted for 28.7 per cent of the country’s $27.7 billion in foreign investments and loans, followed by Russia at 12.7% and Turkey at 7%. Germany accounted for 5.1 per cent, Saudi Arabia 4.8% and the United Kingdom 3.8%. The U.S. Secretary of State Rubio is also expected to travel to Samarkand for a meeting with the foreign ministers of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, accompanied by representatives of more than 100 U.S. companies. In 2025, Indian investment in Uzbekistan reportedly rose 135% to $332 million, taking cumulative Indian capital to more than $717 million, with 375 enterprises involving Indian capital operating in the country by early 2026.

Freshly baked Uzbek bread being sold on a Tashkent street.

Luv Puri

For Uzbekistan, this diversification creates opportunities but also requires careful balancing. Rather than relying on a single external power, Tashkent appears to be cultivating multiple economic and diplomatic relationships.

My ten-day journey ended in Tashkent where it had begun. There is a great deal of thought that has gone into the way Uzbekistan presents its history. Ancient Khorezm, the Timurid era, the Islamic scholarly tradition and the Silk Road are presented as parts of a much longer human story. It is using its history to understand itself while trying to shape its future. Uzbekistan appears to be quietly seizing the opportunities created by its geography and by the competition for influence in Central Asia, cultivating relationships with different powers without making any one relationship the centrepiece of its foreign policy.

In that sense, Uzbekistan itself becomes a metaphor for a certain kind of quiet diplomacy which is pragmatic, understated and conscious of its room for manoeuvre. Travelling through the country left me thinking about how closely the present remains connected to the past. The journey also brought home a simple historical continuity: geography may endure, but the meaning of a crossroads is constantly being rewritten.