On the very first day of my Uzbekistan trip last September, I stumbled across something that was to add a new perspective to my trip, and give me lots to think about. There I was wandering around the Saviksty Museum in Nukus and looking at the various works of art when I came across this painting of a “Bukharan Jew”, by Y.U. Razumovskaya (Charcoal on Paper, 1927).
It was the caption that caught my attention for I was not aware of the presence of Jews in Bukhara or in Central Asia. Since I was curious to know more about the painting and the community the man in the painting represented, I asked my guide at the museum for more information. While the guide could not give me more information on the painting or its painter, she did mention that Bukhara was once home to the largest number of Jews in Central Asia. She said that though there were Jews still living in Bukhara, the numbers had come down drastically.
That night, as I waited for my dinner to arrive in my hotel at Nukus, I read up on the Bukharan Jews. Continue reading “The Jewish Heritage of Bukhara”
It is around midnight when we pass Colva Cemetery.
I had arrived in Goa earlier that November evening and after settling into the service apartment I was staying in, head to Colva Beach for dinner with my friend. A delicious dinner of Italian food later, it is time for a leisurely stroll back to the apartment under a moonlit sky and a gentle sea breeze accompanying us.
We pass restaurants that are still serving dinner, tourists walking back to their hotels, sleepy dogs, shops shut tight… And then quite suddenly, a large angel looms out of the semi darkness, startling me for a second. That’s when I realise that we are passing a graveyard, the Colva Cemetery, and the “angel’ was part of a tomb.
We stop to look over the low walls of the graveyard. Of course, we can’t see much in the darkness except for ghostly outlines of tombstones and tomb sculptures. Also visible is a rather sinister and spooky-looking barn like structure with no doors or gates. Since the moonlight doesn’t penetrate inside, it is shrouded in darkness.
“What’s that?” I ask. “It can’t be the church, can it?”
“No. The church is behind us, and across the road. Maybe a chapel?” my friend suggests.
“Maybe. But why is it so dark?” I shiver involuntarily.
“Let’s come back tomorrow morning and find out, shall we?”
We come back in the morning and see one of the most beautiful graveyards that I have come across.
Continue reading “The cemetery at Colva”