Navoi Theater

Listen first. On a warm evening in central Tashkent, the square in front of the theatre fills with the sound of falling water from the fountain. Plane trees shade the paths. The pale, sand-coloured facade catches the low sun and turns almost golden. Families walk slowly here, and couples sit on benches before a performance. Before we talk about history, take a moment to look up at the building in front of you.

This is the Alisher Navoi State Academic Bolshoi Theatre of Uzbekistan. Most people in the city simply call it the Navoi Theatre. It is the country's main stage for opera and ballet. The building opened in 1947, two years after the end of the Second World War. Its design came from Alexey Shchusev, one of the best-known Soviet architects of his time. You may know another of his works without realising it. Shchusev designed the Lenin Mausoleum on Red Square in Moscow.

That connection surprises many visitors. The mausoleum is dark, heavy and severe. This theatre feels very different. Shchusev took the language of Soviet monumental architecture and softened it with Central Asian forms. Look at the arched openings along the front. Look at the rhythm of the columns and the carved details. The result is a building that is clearly Soviet in scale, but Uzbek in its ornament and its spirit.

The theatre carries the name of Alisher Navoi. He was a poet, thinker and statesman of the fifteenth century. He lived in Herat, in present-day Afghanistan, during the Timurid era, the dynasty that followed the conqueror Amir Timur. Navoi wrote much of his work in Chagatai, an old Turkic literary language. For Uzbeks, he holds a place similar to Shakespeare for English speakers. His name appears on streets, schools and metro stations across the country.

Now for one of the most moving stories connected to this building. Work on the theatre began before the war, then slowed during the hardest years. In the final phase, Japanese prisoners of war worked on the construction. They were soldiers captured at the end of the war and sent to camps across the Soviet Union. Here in Tashkent, some of them helped to raise these walls.

Their work became part of the city's memory in a remarkable way. In 1966, a powerful earthquake struck Tashkent. Large parts of the old city were destroyed. Thousands of families lost their homes. Yet this theatre survived. Locals often say it stood because the Japanese builders worked with such care. Whether or not that is the full explanation, the story is told with real respect in Tashkent today.

On the wall of the building, you can find a memorial plaque that honours those Japanese workers. It is written in several languages, including Japanese. Many visitors walk past it without noticing. If you find it, pause for a moment. It is a small and quiet reminder that this grand stage for music was also built by people far from home, who did not choose to be here.

Inside, the theatre holds one of its best surprises. Around the main hall, there are several side foyers. Each one is decorated in the style of a different region of Uzbekistan. You may see rooms linked to cities such as Tashkent, Samarkand, Bukhara, Khiva and Fergana. Each region has its own tradition of ornament, and master craftsmen from those places worked on the decoration.

Much of this decoration uses ganch. Ganch is a local carved plaster, similar to alabaster. Craftsmen cut it by hand into fine geometric and floral patterns. When light falls across it, the patterns form soft shadows and the walls look almost like lace. This craft is centuries old in Central Asia. You can see it in old palaces and mosques, and here it decorates a twentieth century theatre.

The main auditorium follows the classic European horseshoe shape. Tiers of seats rise around the stage, and the colours are warm and rich. On a performance night, the hall fills with the low noise of conversation, the rustle of programmes, and the sound of the orchestra tuning below the stage. The repertoire usually includes classic European opera and ballet, as well as works by Uzbek composers.

The building has also gone through a major renovation in recent years. Restorers worked to refresh the interiors and update the stage technology, while keeping the historic decoration. So what you see today is both old and new. The carved ganch and the painted ceilings carry the original vision. The lighting, the sound and the machinery behind the curtain belong to a modern working theatre.

If you are here during the day, walk slowly around the outside of the building. The facade looks different from each side. Notice how the fountain and the square in front frame the theatre like a stage set. In the evening, lights come on across the front, and the building becomes the centre of the square. Many locals come here simply to walk, even when they have no ticket.

Before you leave, stand for a moment near the fountain and look back at the theatre. Think about the layers in front of you. A fifteenth century poet gives the building its name. A Moscow architect gave it its shape. Uzbek craftsmen gave it its ornament. And Japanese prisoners helped to build its walls. Listen to the water, feel the evening air, and carry that picture with you as you walk on into Tashkent.