THE magnificently tiled early 17th century madressah of Nadir Divan Beghi in Bokhara’s historic town square is aglow in the evening light, silent witness to an era when this legendary city was famed for its Islamic scholarship and a reminder of its changing fortunes with the extinction of public religious practice in Soviet times. But even as Islamic practice was driven underground, religious belief survived 70 years of constant Soviet repression. Now, 25 years after Uzbek independence, signs of this nascent religious revival are subtle but apparent.

Islam arrived here in the eighth century with the invading Arab armies. Bokhara’s chequered history saw the golden age of the Samanids in the ninth and 10th centuries, and its recovery from the 13th century onslaught of Genghis Khan’s hordes, to once again become a religious hub for the region in the 16th century, with rich patrons sponsoring hundreds of exquisitely built mosques and madressahs.

Chief amongst these is the prestigious Mir-i-Arab Madressah that, monitored closely, continued to function even in Gorbachev’s time. Once one of the most important educational establishments in the Muslim world, the sense of history here is palpable as I observe the students in their black suits and Bokhara caps.

The attached Juma mosque with its minaret dating back to 1127AD, is once again open to worshippers after being shuttered and used as a warehouse in Soviet times. Attendance is thin, though there are signs of life as people rediscover their religious roots.

I catch a glimpse of this in a shop selling colourful Kelims, where I am greeted by the young owner, Abdul Majid. Talking to him, I spy a small, silver frame containing an engraved Quranic verse. It is striking in a country where the Arabic script was abolished and where most people can no longer decipher the Arabic language. There is a cursory knowledge of religion — the practice of three of Islam’s five pillars (fasting, Zakat and Haj) was banned by the Soviets and many Muslims cannot recite their prayers. When asked about the verse, Majid explains: “I am interested in my religion and I am learning from an App, that makes it easier.”

This rekindling of religious interest manifests itself in different forms as I travel around the country. Just outside Samarkand lies the tomb of Imam al Bokhari who compiled a book of authenticated Hadith, the Sahih al Bokhari, which — more than 1,000 years later — remains a prime source of Islamic reference. The mausoleum attracts people from all over the country and on a Sunday morning there are crowds of people. Many of them follow a group leader in prayers they cannot articulate though their reverence and respect is clearly apparent.

Similarly, outside Bokhara, the 14th century tomb of Bahauddin Naqshbandi, the patron saint of Bokhara and founder of the Sufi Naqshbandi order, is visited by throngs of devotees. I observe a group of people being led in a low chant as they recite fateha. “They look like Russian Muslims,” our guide Rimma tells us. “Probably Tartars who kept their religion secret in Soviet times.”

Far away from Bokhara, and its only major rival in the region, the great Silk Road, medieval city of Khiva is crammed with madressahs and mosques though most are now defunct.

Walking down one of the alleyways, I chance upon a bride and groom in traditional wedding finery posing for a photo shoot. This, our guide Kamal informs us, is what he did with his Uzbek bride five years ago. He tells us that some people have now started performing the nikah,and he too is thinking of doing this since; like most people here, he only fulfilled the government requirement for the registration of a civil ceremony. He recounts that when their baby was born, his wife called the mullah to recite the azaan in the baby’s ear. “I know some ayats (verses) but am afraid to do it wrong,” he explains. “Only the old and retired people know how to say their prayers.”

Most Central Asians are followers of Islam as preached by the Sufis. It was the underground anti-communist Sufi tariqas or brotherhoods that kept Islam alive in Soviet times. The practice of Islam here is mixed with pre-Islamic rites that are visible at holy sites — but ritual, as the Sufis were well aware, attracts people.

I see a display of religious devotion in Tashkent, at a small museum that houses the world’s oldest and thickest Quran that was compiled by Hazrat Usman. Written on gazelle skin, it is an object of deep reverence for the multitudes visiting the museum on a Sunday morning. Nearby is an enormous Juma mosque built with Saudi money that, our guide tells us, is filled to capacity on Fridays though imams are monitored and extremist views curtailed by the state.

I leave Uzbekistan having felt strangely at home here. Perhaps it is the warmth of the people, or a shared religious history and cultural affinity; or perhaps this has to do with the fact that my grandfather’s ancestors came from Bokhara, a connection he kept alive in Madinah where he lived close to Bokhari refugees fleeing Soviet religious persecution.

Published in Dawn, February 11th, 2018