By Lyzander E Sohkhlet
In response to the article, ‘Laitumkhrah Aesthetics and Middle Class Victimhood by Joel Kyndiah’ (ST Dec 3, 2024) his thoughtful critique of my article, “Lawless Streets: How Hawkers in Laitumkhrah Are Endangering Lives and Livelihoods,” is a commendable exploration of urban planning ideals and the socio-economic struggles of hawkers. However, it drifts into romanticizing abstract concepts while skirting the pressing realities of Shillong’s streets.
The invocation of lofty principles like Henri Lefebvre’s “right to the city” or notions of class struggle is intellectually enriching, but it risks overshadowing the fundamental issue: urban spaces, by their very nature, must balance inclusivity with regulation to function effectively. The argument that hawkers are victims of systemic inequities does not absolve them of responsibility for the chaos and hazards caused by their encroachments. The streets of Shillong, as they stand today, are not the vibrant, inclusive hubs Kyndiah envisions—they are chaotic, unsafe, and inequitable spaces, particularly for pedestrians, students, and even nearby businesses. The notion of the “right to the city” does not grant any single group the authority to disrupt the lives of others or to infringe upon basic rights. In this context, the freedom of movement, as enshrined in Article 19 (1)(d) of the Indian Constitution, stands as a fundamental right that is increasingly being violated by the unregulated presence of hawkers along critical pathways in Laitumkhrah. The occupation of footpaths and roads not only forces pedestrians—students, workers, and residents alike—into the danger of walking along busy streets but also creates a cascade of issues, from traffic congestion to safety hazards.
In its landmark ruling in the S. Rajaseekaran v. Union of India case (2014), the Supreme Court of India emphasized the need for stringent measures to mitigate blackspots—areas prone to frequent accidents. The judgment called for comprehensive safety interventions, such as better road engineering, clear signages and unobstructed pedestrian pathways, to ensure that roads and pavements remain safe for all users. Central to this directive was the recognition that encroachments, whether by parked vehicles or other obstacles, significantly contribute to the creation of blackspots and increase risks for pedestrians and drivers alike.
The ruling clearly established the principle that public roads and pavements are meant for mobility, not obstruction. Vehicles parked illegally on roads face hefty fines and towing, a practice rigorously enforced under various traffic regulations. However, a glaring inconsistency arises when hawkers are allowed to occupy these same pavements with little to no accountability. While a parked car is quickly penalized for disrupting traffic or endangering pedestrians, hawkers, whose stalls pose similar if not greater risks, are often shielded by public sympathy and political rhetoric.
This selective enforcement creates an ironic contradiction. If road safety demands the removal of parked vehicles to ensure unobstructed movement, how can hawkers, who effectively commandeer entire stretches of pavement and sometimes spill over onto roads, be exempt? Their presence forces pedestrians, including the elderly, children, and the differently-abled, to walk on busy streets, heightening the likelihood of accidents and, by extension, turning such areas into blackspots.
The Supreme Court’s judgment on blackspots offers a framework for understanding how encroachments—whether static (parked cars) or dynamic (hawker stalls)—jeopardize urban safety. Roads and pavements are not commercial spaces; they are public resources meant for unhindered mobility. When hawkers are allowed to occupy pavements unchecked, it undermines not only the safety of pedestrians but also the intent of the Court’s ruling to eliminate hazards that compromise the lives of road users.
Enforcement agencies must recognize this parallel and apply the same principles to hawker encroachments as they do to illegal parking. The public good must take precedence over individual convenience or livelihood when the stakes are human lives. The right to vend must coexist with the right to walk safely—a balance that cannot be achieved without clear, consistent enforcement of laws governing the use of public spaces.
The recent Meghalaya High Court directive to the Public Works Department (PWD) on the dumping of construction materials on roads and pavements highlights a critical aspect often ignored in these debates—the fundamental right to safe movement in public spaces.
In its order dated September 6, 2024, the High Court directed the PWD to take strict measures to prevent the dumping of construction materials on roads and pavements, emphasizing the dangers posed to pedestrians and commuters. The Court made it clear that such obstructions not only jeopardize public safety but also violate the basic rights of individuals to access public spaces.
While this directive targets construction materials, it draws a striking parallel to the issue of hawkers occupying road pavements. The consequences of these encroachments are equally, if not more, disruptive. Pavements are rendered impassable, forcing pedestrians—students, the elderly, and the differently-abled—onto busy streets, where they are exposed to life-threatening risks. If construction materials are considered hazardous obstructions, how are hawkers setting up stalls on the same pavements any different?
The High Court’s stance underscores the principle that public spaces must remain accessible and safe for all. The presence of hawkers on pavements undermines this very principle, creating a chaotic environment that endangers lives and disrupts the flow of daily activities. This is not a matter of class-based aesthetics, as Kyndiah suggests, but a pressing issue of public safety and equitable access to urban spaces.
In light of the court’s directive, the argument that hawkers have a “right” to occupy pavements becomes untenable. Just as construction materials do not have the right to obstruct public pathways, neither do makeshift stalls that compromise the safety and mobility of citizens. The law exists to ensure a balance between the rights of all stakeholders, but that balance is disrupted when one group’s activities disproportionately harm others.
It is not just about legality—it is about fairness and responsibility. Pedestrians should not have to risk their lives walking in the middle of the road, and the vulnerable, such as the differently-abled, should not face abuse for simply asserting their right to move freely. If the High Court’s order applies to construction debris, then it must also extend, in spirit, to any obstruction—hawkers included—that endanger the safety and rights of the public.
To frame the middle class’s concerns as a misplaced sense of victimhood is reductive. Middle-class business owners in Laitumkhrah are not rallying against hawkers out of a fear of downward mobility or a desire for a sterile, bourgeois aesthetic. Their grievances stem from tangible struggles: declining revenues due to unfair competition, exorbitant rents, and the additional burden of maintaining cleanliness in the face of unchecked hawker activity. Is it unreasonable for those abiding by laws and paying hefty rents to expect a level playing field?
Kyndiah’s critique also fails to address a fundamental question: who bears the responsibility for safety and order in urban spaces? The area in front of Nazareth Hospital is a glaring example of hawker-induced disruption, with footpaths occupied and pedestrians forced onto dangerous roads. One cannot dismiss this as a mere failure of urban planning—it is a failure of compliance and enforcement. Rules designating no-vending zones exist for a reason, and their violation directly impacts public safety.
Moreover, the romanticized notion of hawkers as the backbone of urban economies must be balanced with an understanding of their impact. Yes, they provide affordable goods and services, but their unregulated presence often undermines legitimate businesses that contribute to the local economy in a structured, sustainable manner. Kyndiah’s call for coexistence ignores the asymmetry of this relationship: while hawkers operate with little accountability, businesses struggle under layers of regulation, taxes, and rising costs.
In The Shillong Times’ recently published episode of Let’s Talk, Bertina Lyngdoh, a visually impaired PhD Scholar laid bare the grim realities faced by Shillong’s differently-abled youth. Bertina spoke candidly about the daily struggles of navigating a city where footpaths are no longer pedestrian zones but extensions of makeshift markets. For individuals with physical impairments, these encroachments are not just inconveniences—they are barriers that threaten their safety and dignity. Bertina recounted incidents where, in seeking passage, she and others like her were met with verbal abuse from hawkers who viewed their requests for space as unwarranted disruptions to their trade. This is not an isolated issue. Across Laitumkhrah, students, the elderly, and those with disabilities face daily challenges navigating streets that should serve all but are instead dominated by unregulated vending.
Kyndiah’s article, in its philosophical posturing, fails to acknowledge the human cost of this unregulated chaos. His critique of middle-class victimhood ignores the very real victimization of vulnerable groups who find themselves silenced and sidelined in the debate over urban space. To trivialize these grievances as part of a bourgeois desire for order or as an evasion of deeper systemic critiques is to dismiss the humanity of individuals like Bertina Lyngdoh. Philosophy and ideology have their place in discussions of urban planning and class dynamics, but they must be grounded in the realities of those most affected. No quotation from a sociologist or philosopher can justify the persistent harassment and neglect endured by the differently-abled, the marginalized, or the pedestrians who struggle to find a foothold in their own city.
The argument for inclusive urban spaces should not come at the expense of order, safety, or fairness. Hawkers do play an important role in our urban landscape, but that role must be defined within the bounds of law and regulation. Without this, the streets of Laitumkhrah will continue to be spaces of conflict rather than collaboration, where the rights of one group consistently overshadow those of others.Kyndiah urges us to embrace the plurality of urban spaces, but true plurality cannot exist in a vacuum of regulation. It must be built on mutual respect, where hawkers, pedestrians, businesses, and authorities work within a framework that prioritizes public welfare. This is not a rejection of the “right to the city,” but a call to ground it in reality. Let us ensure that our city respects the rights of all—not just in theory, but in practice.
The writer can be reached at [email protected]