We arrived in Almaty the same time as the rain clouds. The sun hadn’t quite set, but it looked like it had retired for the evening. We checked into a hotel and went looking for dinner. It would be dark soon.

In Almaty it rains like home, slow and continuous. The cafe-styled restaurant serves mostly locals, so everything was in Kazak. Clearly we needed help and a young guy before me in the queue obliged and said, “May we sit together, I would like to practise my English.” We paid, took our trays and sat down together, Dos, Suman and I. Dos worked as an air-traffic controller in a small city by the Caspian Sea and was on vacation visiting his mother. He asked us what brought us to Almaty and seemed a little disappointed with our reply. “You visit Uzbekistan and not Kazak? What is it that they have?” We mentioned the ancient Silk Road and he spoke of his country’s snow-capped peaks and beautiful mountain lakes. He was a Manchester United fan, had heard of Bristol but not Bath and wanted to visit London someday. And then it was time to leave. Dos interupted, “May I ask a question? Does India make TV serials just for export?”

Dos clearly wasn’t expecting an answer, for he continued confident, “Hindi TV serials are so popular in Kazakhstan. They’ve always been and they go on for years. We watch them subtitled.” We smiled. “Dos you should visit India some day and don’t believe everything the serials show you.”

Outside the rain clouds had left and the tips of Tian Shan glistened like gemstones in the quiet twilight. We walked back to our hotel.

Almaty, May 2019