Labor Day

In America, it is common to have 'snow days', especially in Jenna's home of Minnesota. We had our fair share in Missouri, too, when I was growing up. In Texas, we also had two weeks of school cancelled one time for Hurricane Ike. And in 1992, I remember getting a so-called 'earthquake day' when a scientist predicted that the New Madrid Fault in southeast Missouri was going to rupture.

Today, in Kolkata, we had a 'strike day'. The city shut down completely due to a strike (or bandh) called by West Bengal's ruling Communist party. The politics behind the matter make little sense to me. Apparently, though, Kolkatans are use to this type of thing. All public transport was shuttered--including most auto rickshaws and the city's rather efficient subway. As a result, school was cancelled (including our TESOL course) and most businesses were closed, as well. The typically frenzied atmosphere of the streets was replaced by a laconic peacefulness. A few pedestrians were out taking strolls. A confectioner down the street from our guest house was open but not doing much business. The man seemed thrilled to have me as a customer when I stopped and bought two little doughy cakes. I had no idea what they were. I enjoyed one that tasted like maple but rather thought the other--which I think was supposed to be cherry--was too strong and tasted like astringent cleaner.

A group of school-aged boys were playing a game of street cricket one block up. I stopped on the corner and casually leaned against a light post to watch. After a while a snapped a few pictures. One of them--tall and lanky with a flopping mop of thick dark hair--came over holding a bat and said, "Where are you from?" I told him I was from America. "Ah, my cousin lives in Cleveland. She works at a research institute." "Case Western?" I asked. He smiled, "I do not know the name." Then he sprinted back to the game and began batting.

At 2:30 in the afternoon, I stepped into the middle of Rash Behari Avenue, the busiest street in our little neighborhood. Usually at this time, the street markets would be in full gear, workers would have begun returning home and women would be out shopping in droves. The street I was standing in the middle of would tomorrow be packed bumper-to-bumper with city buses, auto rickshaws, Ambassador cars, and yellow taxis. Today, all I spotted was a man lazily riding a bike along the curb.

I figured since we had missed the American celebration of Labor Day on Monday, this "strike day" would be a good substitute.