My heart is full of the pain of disco

And here we are. I didn’t think I’d ever start a blog, but it’s becoming more and more clear that without a regular mental outlet these next four months alone in Kolkata could be a very dark time for me. As I learned during my time in Greenbelt, Maryland, watching Bollywood by yourself in your bedroom for weeks at a time can only do so much to boost morale.

I’m arriving in Kolkata on August 20th, and purchased my ticket before I found out that a bandh has been called for that day and I have no way to get from the airport to my flat in the city,15 kilometers south. During a bandh all businesses, schools, transportation is shut down in a mandatory citywide strike. They’ve become so common, especially in Kolkata, that they now carry about the political punch of a snow day. This particular bandh was called by the Communist Party of India (CPI—a political party with which I share a birthday, heycheckit) nationally, but I am assuming that it will only be put into effect in West Bengal and possibly other states in which the CPI holds legislative power (Kerala, Tripura, mayhaps Manipur?). The bandh is protesting the United Progressive Alliance (the current ruling coalition) and its recent role in the Indo-American Nuclear deal (with which we got the new and improved Fulbright-Nehru program—thanks, diplomacy!), which the CPI thinks removes far too much autonomy from the Indian nuclear program as it places all civilian nuclear facilities under International Atomic Energy Agency guidelines, also a fact which the CPI accuses the UPA with being less than forthcoming about until very recently. Anyway, the whole situation caused the CPI to remove all support from the UPA in July and the party is now threatening dire consequences for the UPA, probably planning something along the lines of more days to come of not doing anything. I don’t know. I’m all for striking when necessary, but most bandhs seem so perfunctory in Kolkata that the whole exercise seems rather silly, especially when it’s difficult to even figure out what is being protested and why. I suppose I’m mostly just irritated that this means I’m stuck at an airport hotel for 24 hours.

In Olympic news, the best kind of news there is, my friend Mike shared a story about Michael Phelps with me last night. I’ve never really cared much about Michael Phelps aside from a slight geographical affinity, as he trained as a young boy in the hardscrabble Olympic-sized pools of Baltimore before spending time between the 2004 and 2008 games attending the University of Michigan. Mike (my Mike… for purposes of clarity the Olympian will be referred to henceforth as “Phelpsy”), a recent U of M grad, informed me that one night a couple of years back Phelpsy struck a female pedestrian with his Beamer, not hard enough to seriously injure her but hard enough for her to roll onto the hood. As she stood up, he got out of the car, told her to “watch where you’re going, bitch,” and then drove away. While elements of this story, the Beamer especially, seem almost too absurdly cliché to be true, Phelpsy was arrested for drunk driving back in 2004. I choose to believe it, mostly because I need some reason for drunkenly shouting obscenities as I watch men’s swimming on TV.

And to tide you over until next time, here's a message in transliterated Hindi-- just because Google gives me the power!
ली, इ ऍम सुर यू अरे थे ओनली ओने व्हो कैन रीड थिस। इ सुरेली कान्नोत। एवें सो, इ विल अत्तेम्प्त थे ल्य्रिक्स तो ओउर फवोरिते सोंग। दिल में मेरे है दर्द दे डिस्को.