Pilot strike

Our boat engine had broken down.
Our taxi broke down.
So, when we arrived at our hotel in Kochi, I said, "Now what can go wrong here?"
Well.
I should have held my tongue.

It's true that we did enjoy a relaxing day and a half of sightseeing. But then it was time to focus on what I knew was happening in the outside world: an Air India pilot strike.

I was hoping they would get it worked out before our flight. They didn't.
A thorough check of the situation left little doubt that our flight was one of the many canceled.
Our choice? Learn to like Kochi a lot for the next few days, or take matters into our own hands and stay ahead of the trouble.

It was 2:00 in the afternoon, so I checked out the evening flights: if we were speedy, we could catch one and arrive in Delhi by midnight. But it meant the end of our relaxing, and a short night's sleep--better than dealing with an airline in chaos, though, so we took the opportunity, packed up super fast, and avoided Air India.

A day or so later, the strike ended and didn't affect any more of our trip--what a relief.
Usually we wouldn't choose to fly AI when there are so many other good, budget airlines out there. I would say our instincts have been right about that all these years, it was way more drama than we were hoping for.

Summer disease

The political unrest in Kashmir is like an infectious disease that flares up every summer.
I read this article in the Times of India and I thought about how it seems better for winter and cold weather to remain in Kashmir, for as soon as warmer weather comes, so does the protesting.
2008 was a bad summer. June and August, especially, were full of unrest. Curfews and strikes and angry people with rocks in their hands wherever you went. But when I watch this video, it seems to me that the young men with rocks are bolder than they used to be.
When violence escalates the way it has, there is rarely a right or wrong side anymore.
These are not "innocent" youths pictured here.
I think it must be a lonely job to work for the CRPF.
I think it must be awful to have lost a son to a bullet fired into a protesting crowd.
Living in Delhi means I have to go looking for news about what happens in Kashmir. People here go on as if nothing is happening. I do the same.
But I do remember the enforced stay-at-home days, the tires burning in the roads, the school boys who attack cars.
I may not live there anymore, but peace in the Valley of Kashmir is still something I long to see.

Auto strike

I went out this morning because I had an appointment. It was just before rush hour time, so I thought I'd have no trouble finding an auto and getting to my destination in 20 minutes or so.
Wrong.
Unbeknownst to me, the auto unions had called a 24 hour strike, making some very unrealistic demands.
I waited 30 minutes and then walked to the auto stand where I usually avoid asking because their prices are higher.
Higher, yes, and today: way higher. Three times the price!
"You are crazy," I told the driver.
He laughed and repeated what I said to the others.
"We're part of such and such auto union," he said.
Okay, great, I thought, and I told him what I was willing to pay and then walked away when they wouldn't take it.
Then I called the office where I had my appointment and asked if there was some reason autos were not running today.
Yes, there was a strike.
Ahah.
So I went back home and canceled my appointments for the day.
It's too bad, really, 'cause I imagine the roads are pretty good driving with 55,000 fewer vehicles crowding along them.

Visiting

Since there were no strict curfews or strikes today, I visited some friends. They offered me some chai and then asked me to take some pictures in the garden. They had a lot of different poses for me capture.

The kids have had weeks of no school because of the unrest. This was the first day for many of them to go back. Now the teachers are piling on the homework to make up for all the missed time. Poor kids.

This one just turned five last month (or "completed his fifth year", as they say here), and he was doing his homework: writing the numbers 1 to 100 in his notebook. Very neatly, too. He had three other books of penmanship in English and Urdu to do before tomorrow also.

Nanis are protesting

A nani (nah-nee) is a grandma. This one seems very excited about something. I don't actually know what she's saying, though. It could be that she's telling everyone to go home and stop protesting. That would be nice--I hope they would listen to her. But probably not.

Today they are taking a break from the strikes. People are permitted to go out, shop, just get out of the house for a while. I wonder if this taste of "normalcy" is enough to quell the desire to renew protesting Friday.