Editor,
Through the columns of your newspaper, I write with a deep sense of disheartenment and frustration about the plight of retired teachers of deficit colleges in Meghalaya under the MDA Government. The attitude of the MDA Government towards the retired teachers of deficit colleges comes across as apathetic, misanthropic, to the extent of jeopardising the quality of life and survival.
For those who spent their lives nurturing young minds in college classrooms, retirement should be a time of peace, dignity, and well-earned rest. However, in Meghalaya, a considerable number of retired college teachers from deficit institutions find themselves caught in a web of delays, neglect, and institutional silence.
These educators, who once stood as pillars of higher education, now face long and uncertain waits for the release of their gratuity—a statutory right under the Payment of Gratuity Act, 1972, which mandates payment within 30 days of retirement. Instead, many are forced to wait months, even years, for what is rightfully theirs.
Gratuity is not a gesture of charity; it is a form of deferred compensation for years of dedicated service. Failure to release it on time causes financial instability and has a profound impact on the emotional and mental well-being of those who once led our educational institutions.
Compounding the issue is the unfair and retroactive demand for refunds on so-called “overdrawn” salary amounts—errors in pay scale fixation made long ago, often by the administration itself. These demands are raised only after retirement, when individuals no longer have the financial cushion or procedural channels to respond. Such actions raise a critical ethical question: Should retired teachers be held solely accountable for systemic errors they neither caused nor benefited from knowingly?
Even more disheartening is the delay in releasing 50% of the employees’ share of the Central Provident Fund (CPF). Although the State Government, compelled by the High Court of Meghalaya’s directive, initiated the process of transferring accumulated funds into a centralised system under the MPF Act, 1969, the money now remains dormant. Eight months have passed without a single subscriber account number issued, nor any clarity about accrued interest. This inaction speaks volumes about the slow churn of bureaucracy in contrast to the urgency of retirees’ needs.
Even the long-awaited Pension Scheme, born from years of legal struggle, continues to languish in bureaucratic slow motion. Retired teachers welcomed the court-mandated Pension Scheme as a long-overdue recognition of their service. But even after its approval and submission to the State Government in 2023, it remains stuck in a vortex of delay, dulled by official apathy. Despite Court Directives, the Government’s apathy toward implementing the Pension Scheme has only deepened the injustice. The enthusiasm once sparked by the scheme has turned to frustration as another year slips by.
This delay is not merely an administrative lapse or administrative inefficiency; it is a violation of livelihood, a quiet erosion of dignity, a quiet form of erasure, and a breach of trust.
It may be reiterated that these recurring lapses do not simply reflect inefficiency. They amount to institutional neglect, undermining the dignity of those who once carried the weight of shaping future generations. Retired teachers of deficit colleges deserve timely dues, transparent procedures, and the respect earned over decades of service.
Retired teachers of deficit colleges are not asking for favours—they are demanding fairness, transparency, and the fulfilment of rights they have lawfully earned.
In honouring teachers after retirement, we honour education itself. It is time that the Government, Education Departments, College Managements and all Stakeholders act decisively to ensure the timely disbursement of dues, resolve legacy errors with compassion and clarity, and deliver on post-retirement pensionary benefits.
Anything less would be a betrayal, not just of the individuals affected, but of the ideals that education stands for.
Yours etc.,
An aggrieved retired college teacher,
Name withheld on request.
Via email
From echoes to ink
Editor,
Behdienkhlam Festival falls on July 14 this year. My grandparents once migrated from Jowai to Shillong in search of work, and somewhere along the way, our ties to the community there faded and life took its course. Yet, I find myself constantly drawn to the past, to the stories, the folklore, the history that spark those quiet ooohs and ahhhs within me.
Behdienkhlam is a vibrant four-day traditional festival of the Pnar (Jaintia) people in Meghalaya, celebrated each July after the sowing season, especially in Jowai (West Jaintia Hills) and Tuberkmai (East Jaintia Hills). The word Behdienkhlam means “driving away (beh dien) plague or disease (khlam),” symbolizing the act of chasing away the demon of cholera to protect the health of the community and ensure a good harvest. During the festival, participants seek blessings from their indigenous Niamtre faith deities such as U Mukhai, Mulong, Mooralong, and Musniang, blending spirituality, tradition, and communal unity into a powerful celebration of life and renewal.
During the Covid era, I read the book “Around the Hearth: Khasi Legends” by Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih, which was such a delightful read that I keep rereading it often. PM Modi has in the past, praised efforts by Amar Vyas (Gaatha), Kathalaya, and the Indian Storytelling Network for reviving oral traditions and documenting stories from India’s freedom struggle and folklore. Modi emphasized that preserving these narratives is essential not just for remembering history, but for keeping our cultural soul alive for generations to come.
It’s time we pull the hand of folklore from the dusty corners of memory and bring it to the light, from Echoes to Ink, reviving local folklore for future generations. I feel that MBOSE should bring local folklore into our classrooms, not just as a line or two in a history chapter, but as full storytelling sessions, creative projects, or extracurricular activities. Let students hear the tales of Ka Likai, U Thlen, Lum Sohpetbneng, and more. Let them feel them, question them, and carry them forward. If we don’t make space for these stories now, we may lose them forever.
Your’s etc,
Shivani Pde,
Via email
Voice against a failing postal service
Editor,
A person I know had booked a very important document along with a bank draft to an addressee — a highly reputed office in Tura. The document, dispatched from GPO Shillong-1 through a special service called “Speed Post” on June 18, 2025, was not delivered until July 7. The online tracking showed that the document had reached Tura on the third day itself, that is, June 20, but had seemingly been locked up in the “vault of oblivion” ever since. Only after a complaint was filed on July 7 was the document delivered to the addressee of that office on the same day. Should the higher authorities in the postal department not take stern action against staff members responsible for this kind of negligence?
In another frustrating incident, I booked a very urgent Speed Post parcel from the same GPO Shillong on June 12, 2025, assuming that the parcel would reach the consignee in Guwahati within three days. While the tracking information showed that the parcel was delivered on June 16, 2025, the addressee never received it. It was delivered on June 18, but only after I filed a complaint. Had the complaint not been raised, the parcel might have vanished into thin air — falsely marked as delivered on the postal tracking portal. These are serious cases of negligence and deception that warrant punishment. Imagine the plight of countless people who do not even lodge a complaint to the postal department or through the daily newspapers. Many say that their letters were delivered to consignees only after two or three months!
How can the general public rely on government postal services if even the express service leaves the customer in the lurch. Now all the government chest-thumping about the digital age sounds like empty rhetoric particularly when a “Speed Post” crawls slower than a primitive telegram.
Yours etc., ,
Salil Gewali,
Shillong