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Obituary

Comedian Bakhtiyor Rahimov, Who Lamented Decline of Satire in Tajikistan, Dies

Tajik satirist Bakhtiyor Rahimov, whose comic performances lampooned daily life and sometimes touched on power, corruption and bureaucracy, has died after longstanding health problems. He was 56 years old, according to media reports. Rahimov, founder of a comedy group called Gharibsho Company and a fixture on Tajikistan’s comedy scene over several decades, had performed at a resort in the western city of Hisor on the night before his death on June 30. He was buried in his home village of Nojii Bolo, near Hisor. “The news saddened thousands of his fans. Indeed, the death of such an artist is a great loss to Tajik culture,” news site Oila.tj reported. Several Tajik media outlets reported on a debate about why Rahimov was never awarded a state title recognizing his comedic contributions. In a news conference on Monday, Culture Minister Matlubakhon Sattoriyon expressed condolences to Rahimov’s family on his death and said that the satirist had received recognition, if not a title, from the state. “Others have criticized the attitude of the cultural authorities and suggest that, in recognition of his contribution to the development of Tajik satire, he be awarded an honorary state title after his death,” reported Azda TV, a Tajik-language site that is registered in Poland and aims to provide alternative perspectives to state-controlled media in Tajikistan. The name of Rahimov’s comedy group, Gharibsho, derives from Persian and refers to a wanderer or stranger, a description that echoed the experience of many young people in Tajikistan who were emigrating to other countries, particularly Russia, in search of work. The name also incorporates a term for king or noble. "We were kings on stage, but at the same time, like these wanderers, we had nothing behind us," Muhammadjon Kholov, an early member of Gharibsho, said in an interview with the Your.tj outlet several years ago. He recalled that fans who couldn’t get tickets to the group’s first show on a big stage were so eager to see the performance that they smashed windows and doors and stormed the concert hall where the comedians were appearing. The group, which started in 2000, had to donate all its proceeds from ticket sales to cover the damages. In a 2024 interview with the Asia-Plus publication, Rahimov said satire had been marginalized in official circles in Tajikistan and that he hadn’t been invited to state events or programs in nearly six years. Asked if there was still political or social satire in Tajikistan, he said: “Yes, but very rarely.”

World Cup 2026

World Cup: Uzbek Referee Under Scrutiny After France-Paraguay Game

Uzbek referee Ilgiz Tantashev has come under heavy criticism over a rough FIFA World Cup match between France and Paraguay, in which the South American side went for an especially physical approach. France won Saturday’s knockout game 1-0 on a penalty kick by Kylian Mbappé, but much of the post-match debate centered on whether Tantashev had lost control of a situation on the field that was often combative. While he handed out several yellow cards to France, the Paraguayan players didn’t get any during the game while engaging in physical confrontations that critics said should have been punished. Video showed Mbappé getting pushed and shoved so much at one point that he was laughing it off. He later said, “We knew what kind of match it was going to be. We can also get our hands dirty.” While French media condemned the conduct by the Paraguayan players, Paraguayan media were supportive of their team’s efforts, which included a dogged defense. In a blog post for Brazil’s Globo Esporte, analyst Rodrigo Coutinho focused on the offense, defense and other tactical aspects of the match, while acknowledging Paraguay’s attempts to get under the skin of Les Bleus. At various points, the Paraguayans also sought to provoke the French players. Shoves during set pieces, needless complaints and the French players' growing frustration were all part of the first half,” Coutinho said. Many veteran analysts and online commentators questioned whether Tantashev had done enough to control the match. “Uzbek referee Ilgiz Tantashev with an extraordinary performance,” tweeted football journalist Colin Millar. “No interest in refereeing, no interest in applying the laws of the game, no interest in player welfare or well-being. A FIFA-listed referee for 13 years! France very fortunate to avoid serious injuries.” In an Asian Football Confederation video that was posted before the World Cup, Tantashev said he was “happy” to have been selected as a referee for the global event. He said he had been a referee for 20 years and to receive the selection letter in April was “a big gift for me.”

Art and Culture

Kanybek Kalmatov Interview: Kyrgyz Director Takes on Chinghiz Aitmatov

At 25, Kanybek Kalmatov is taking on a subject many older directors might have avoided: Chinghiz Aitmatov, Kyrgyzstan’s most internationally recognized writer and a figure deeply embedded in the country’s cultural identity. Kalmatov, a cinematographer and graduate of VGIK, the prestigious Moscow film school, is making his directorial debut with Aitmatov, billed as Kyrgyzstan’s first full-length feature film about the writer’s life and career. The project has already drawn attention beyond Kyrgyzstan, not least because Russian actor Sergey Bezrukov has joined the cast. For Kalmatov, the film is also personal. He first encountered Aitmatov as a schoolboy through The Little Soldier, and later found that even at film school in Moscow, Kyrgyzstan was often viewed through the writer’s name. Now, after months of research and nearly a year spent developing the screenplay, he says he is ready to take on a life that one film can only partly contain. The Times of Central Asia spoke with Kalmatov about why he chose a biopic rather than an adaptation, how he approached Aitmatov’s life at such a young age, and why he hopes the film will send younger viewers back to the writer’s books. TCA: You have chosen an ambitious project for your directorial debut. How did the film come about? Kanybek Kalmatov: Since childhood, there have been two stories I always dreamed of filming. The first is about my parents, because they have an incredible love story. The second is about Aitmatov. It wasn’t only his works that fascinated me. It was the scale of his personality, how determined he was and how many different things he managed to do at the same time. I fell in love with Aitmatov when I was about 12, after reading The Little Soldier. It’s about a boy whose father died in the war. Since then, Aitmatov’s works have always stayed with me. Even at VGIK, where I studied, people often saw me through that lens: “You’re from Kyrgyzstan? The homeland of Aitmatov?” For us, he’s not just a writer; he’s part of our cultural code. So I felt that, sooner or later, this film was bound to enter my life. TCA: Were you afraid the project might not work? Kanybek Kalmatov: No. Probably because I believe strongly in intention. Any big undertaking starts with that. If your motivation is right and you understand why you’re doing it, things begin to fall into place. From the start, my intention was pure. I never saw this film as a way to gain fame or prove something to anyone. I wanted to tell the story honestly of someone who means so much to our culture. TCA: Don’t you think one has to “grow into” Aitmatov first? Kanybek Kalmatov: There are topics you need to mature into. But if you wait for the perfect moment, you may never make anything at all. Maybe if I waited another 15 years, I would approach this story differently. Or maybe I’d never dare. Personally, I respect people who aren’t afraid...

Contemporary Ballet

Kazakhstan’s Astana Ballet Stages a Dance of Gold and Steppe Wind

The Astana Ballet hosted the premiere of Altyn Gul - The Secret of the Golden Tulip, a production that has drawn attention in the art community. In the new performance, archaeology and national mythology meet contemporary choreography in a single stage narrative. The theater’s chief choreographer, Abubakhrieva Mukaram Saidakimovna, known professionally as Mukaram Avakhri, an Honored Worker of Kazakhstan, turned to one of the most recognizable symbols of the Kazakh steppe, the wild tulip, transforming it into a metaphor for memory, continuity, and the search for identity. From the first minutes, the audience was captivated by the beauty of the music, costumes, and dance. A spectacle unfolded on stage, with warriors in red and gold armor marching into battle, followed by beautiful beings of the steppe whose forms seemed to shift between nymphs and flowers. The starting point for the performance was a real archaeological artifact, a gold plaque from the 3rd-2nd centuries BCE depicting a tulip, found in the Tenlik burial mounds. This small object of ancient jewelry became more than a museum discovery. It offered a way to reflect on how natural symbols survive through the ages and remain preserved in a people’s cultural memory. At the center of the story is a master jeweler, a young man named Zerger, who is inspired by the beauty of the steppe flower. The image of the tulip he creates gradually becomes a symbol of beauty, harmony, and the creative power of nature. Yet Altyn Gul is less a historical reconstruction than a philosophical parable. The protagonist’s path unfolds as an inner journey filled with symbolic trials and discoveries, while the tulip accompanying him gradually reveals itself as a sign of renewal, continuity, and the bond between human beings and the world around them. For Avakhri, turning to nature and historical memory was a logical continuation of her artistic direction. In her previous productions, Jusan, Ot Qyz, and The Silk Road, the choreographer had already explored the relationship between cultural heritage and contemporary movement language. Avakhri has said the central image of the steppe tulip symbolizes the fragility and strength of life. She also said the combination of national traditions with classical ballet and contemporary dance was intended to make the performance accessible and meaningful to today’s audience. According to theater director Tair Karatayev, the new production has taken a special place in the Astana Ballet repertoire. Altyn Gul has become an example of how national artistic images can receive a contemporary stage interpretation while preserving their connection to history and cultural heritage. The music for the production was written by Renat Gaissin, Honored Worker of Kazakhstan and one of the country’s leading contemporary composers. The libretto was created by Bakhyt Kairbekov, also an Honored Worker of Kazakhstan, and the costumes were designed by Aigerim Altybasarova. The premiere performances were accompanied by the theater’s symphony orchestra under chief conductor Arman Urazgaliyev. Altyn Gul closed the Astana Ballet theater season with an attempt to reinterpret one of the oldest cultural images of...

Nuclear Legacy

Kurchatov: Kazakhstan’s Atomic City Finds New Life After Nuclear Tests

Strong winds, scorching sun, abandoned five-story apartment blocks standing next to occupied homes, crows and horses wandering the streets: this is how Kurchatov appears to visitors today. Once closed to outsiders, the city was the heart of Soviet nuclear science and military power. More than three decades after the closure of the Semipalatinsk Nuclear Test Site, how does this unique corner of Kazakhstan live now? Construction of the test site began on August 21, 1947. It covered 18,500 square kilometers at the intersection of what are now the Abai, Pavlodar, and Karaganda regions. Two years later, on August 29, 1949, the Soviet Union conducted its first nuclear test here. Soviet nuclear scientists helped create the country’s “nuclear shield,” but it was Kazakhstan that decades later brought the tests to an end. On August 29, 1991, by decree of President Nursultan Nazarbayev, the Semipalatinsk test site was officially closed. Over 42 years, at least 456 nuclear tests were carried out at the site, affecting more than 1.5 million people. The history of Kurchatov began as a military garrison. Because of its secrecy, the city changed names several times, including “Moscow-400,” “Nadezhda,” and “Bereg.” It later became known as Kurchatov, after Soviet physicist Igor Kurchatov, although for many years it remained better known by its code name: Semipalatinsk-21. The first builders and military personnel lived in extremely harsh conditions. “At first, many lived in dugouts, and the walls froze through completely,” older residents recall. “In winter, hair froze to the beds, and fingers were often frostbitten.” “I came to serve here from Moldova and thought I was going to a regional center. Instead, they sent us into the steppe, to the dugouts. No electricity, no heating, no gas. Cold, mud, wind. But I stayed anyway. I got married and later brought my parents here,” Viktor Bordei, who has lived in Kurchatov for 47 years, told The Times of Central Asia. [caption id="attachment_51250" align="aligncenter" width="1600"] Viktor Bordei, a resident of Kurchatov; image: TCA[/caption] For many who served at the test site, their work felt like a matter of honor. “We didn’t think about the consequences,” Bordei admits. “We believed we were strengthening the Soviet Union’s nuclear shield. Nobody spoke about the harm until Nazarbayev announced the damage done to nature and people. Of course, it’s painful to realize we were kept in the dark.” Over time, memories of that period have become intertwined with nostalgia. Former residents recall developed infrastructure, well-stocked stores, and strict order. After the military left, Kurchatov took years to recover, losing both people and housing while preserving the spirit of its unusual past. “I remember how the walls shook during the explosions. I also remember the day the military left. It was frightening, and nobody knew what would happen next. Now it hurts to see abandoned buildings and horses wandering the streets, but I don’t want to leave. The city is changing, and I believe in it,” says local resident Elena Kazachuk, who was born in Kurchatov. Zoya Lapshina...

Venice Biennale

The Works That Waited: Uzbek Artist Vyacheslav Akhunov in Venice

Central Asia has made a striking impression at this year’s Venice Biennale. At the 61st International Art Exhibition, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Kyrgyzstan have each claimed visible space through national pavilions that speak to different realities: environmental devastation, shifting cultural identity, memory, and the long afterlife of Soviet power. The national pavilions are essential viewing for art lovers. During the Biennale, Venice also fills with officially recognized exhibitions outside the main venues and national pavilions. Known as Collateral Events, these shows are staged across the city in palaces, churches, foundations, and museums. Among the most compelling this season is “Instruments of the Mind” by Uzbek artist Vyacheslav Akhunov. Housed in the Neo-Gothic rooms of Palazzo Franchetti on the Grand Canal, the exhibition surveys decades of his career. Widely regarded as one of Central Asia’s most significant conceptual artists, Akhunov has developed a rigorous and wide-ranging practice since the 1970s. He has worked across drawing, text, installation, collage, and performance. The exhibition spans five decades but avoids a conventional chronological structure. Instead, it centers on the unrealized, foregrounding censorship, bureaucratic delay, and the near-total lack of institutional support in Uzbekistan that prevented many of Akhunov’s projects from being fully realized for decades. That emphasis also points to a wider shift. It shows the distance between the conditions under which Akhunov worked for much of his career and the significant cultural investment Uzbekistan is making today, particularly in contemporary art. As a result, several works conceived as drawings in the 1970s and kept in studio drawers ever since are presented here as full-scale installations for the first time. This fine-tuned curation presents the work of a seminal artist while also reflecting on the evolution of a country’s cultural landscape. The exhibition is curated by Sara Raza, Chief Curator and Artistic Director of the Centre for Contemporary Arts Tashkent, one of the leading authorities on the region’s contemporary art development. “Instruments of the Mind is not about the past,” Akhunov has said. “It is about how thought survives.” The exhibition takes its title from a deconstructed reading of the Sanskrit word mantra, from manas, meaning mind, and tra, meaning tool. Language is positioned here as an instrument of consciousness. The show’s range is wider than that etymology suggests. It moves between introspection and absurdity, spiritual devotion and political satire, the intimate and the monumental. Mantras for Art Palazzo Franchetti, a striking building with a marble staircase, intricate floral decorations, and frescoed ceilings, welcomes visitors with a work that functions as a rite of passage. “Triumphal Arch” (1979/2026) transforms the entrance corridor into a tunnel covered with hundreds of real scissors: household scissors, surgical clamps, nail scissors, ribbon-cutting shears, chrome-plated and painted, tiny and oversized, all fixed to the wall. To enter the show, visitors must walk through this bristling passage. The work originates from a 1979 drawing. Its conceptual target is the grandiose Soviet ribbon-cutting ceremony, a televised ritual performed at the inauguration of projects that often went unfinished or were c trapped in...