Turning a blind eye
The Demseiniong area has long had a reputation for its open sale of black alcohol, especially on dry days and holidays when legal liquor shops remain shut. While most people in the area are aware of these shady operations, what stood out this Easter Sunday was the casual acceptance of it all, even by those meant to enforce the law.
This Shillong Jottings member witnessed something that felt both ironic and troubling, a uniformed officer standing in the middle of the road, controlling traffic, while just a few feet away, people were openly stopping their vehicles to buy booze from roadside vendors. The officer seemed completely unbothered, turning a blind eye to what was clearly going on.
It’s hard not to wonder, when the people in charge of upholding the law appear indifferent, what message does that send? In a place where illegal liquor trade thrives in plain sight, on a day as holy as Easter, does it say that dry days are only dry on paper in certain pockets of the city?
The sounds around
In Shillong, the sounds have changed. Earlier, you’d hear birds chirping and the wind through the trees when someone came by. Now, it’s mostly the noise of construction from every corner.
The Shillong melody has shifted.
One sound stays the same — the daily siren that rings around 10 am, steady and familiar. The only constant.
Then there are the human notes, the chana wallahs with their bells, bike exhausts roaring down the lane, and car horns breaking the calm, church bells on Sundays, and the kongs calling out in a busy market.
This happens to be the new soundscape of shillong, less serene, perhaps, the old silence is gone, but the city still speaks; just in a different voice now.
