By Lyzander E Sohkhlet
Since the day Bhogtoram Mawroh published his long-winded response to my article, Shillong has moved on. Quite beautifully, in fact. Khyndailad is breathing again, pedestrians walk freely, families shop without squeezing between carts and chaos, and the vendors who relocated to the MUDA complex are not just adjusting, they’re thriving. Meanwhile, many continue to beat the same ideological drum, eyes squeezed shut to the blooming reality around them. Khyndailad, once a pedestrian’s nightmare, is now a place where people can breathe, walk, and yes, even smile. The air is cleaner, the roads are clearer, and the MUDA Complex, previously dismissed as a bureaucratic afterthought, is now humming with happy vendors and happier customers. These aren’t elite shopkeepers or traders. These are the same vendors who were once on the streets, now thriving in a cleaner, safer, and legally designated space.
Ask them yourself. Many have publicly said they prefer this relocation. “Business is better. We don’t have to face the rain or the wind anymore. And we’re not inhaling car smoke all day, nor fighting for a space,” said a vendor. Many vendors who once sold food under hazardous conditions, by gutters, amidst fumes, exposed to vehicular dust (They were violating Section 15 of the Street Vendors (Protection of Livelihood and Regulation of Street Vending Act, 2014) which concerns public hygiene are finally selling in cleaner, safer spaces within the MUDA market. Their food is no longer marinated in exhaust smoke. They now have dignity, structure, and hygiene. Vendors I’ve spoken to express satisfaction with the relocation, proud that they no longer fear eviction or police confiscation. One even said, “It feels like I finally have a shop, not a spot on the street.”
Let me remind readers: vending in front of hospitals, or anywhere not designated for vending, is a violation of the 2014 Act. Section 15 (page 5 of the NASVI PDF version) explicitly prohibits vending in a no vending zone. Section 29 outlines penalties for such violations. Even Bhogtoram, in his generous imagination, suggests road-widening as a solution, on the condition that vendors remain where they are. In other words, he proposes altering urban infrastructure to accommodate illegality. That’s like suggesting we abolish speed limits because people like driving fast. There’s also a curious lack of concern for public hygiene in Bhogtoram’s narrative. Relocated vendors now operate away from open drains, dust clouds, and vehicle smoke. This is not classism; it’s common sense. The same food that was once exposed to exhaust pipes is now sold in a clean environment. Isn’t that a public good? Or is it only “pro-poor” when food safety is optional? Suggesting we ignore current violations until a utopian land exchange occurs is like saying we should allow double parking on hospital roads until we build a multi-storey parking lot in 2030. It’s unrealistic, and frankly, irresponsible.
Bhogtoram Mawroh states he works in the area, but I live in the chaos. His observations punch in at 9 am and politely exit by 5 pm. Meanwhile, I witness the daily disappearance of footpaths, the vanishing act of road space, and the magical multiplication of carts with every passing hour. While he studies the area from a distance, I experience its challenges directly, every single day.
I also find it amusing how Mawroh has tried to build his case around a recent judgment by the Punjab and Haryana High Court, only to cherry-pick lines that suit his argument. He quotes the Court’s sympathy but skips the part where the case was dismissed for lacking legal basis. More inconveniently, he omits the fact that the Court imposed a ₹50,000 fine on each petitioner for wasting judicial time. Sympathy, dear readers, does not replace statutory procedure.
Mawroh also tries to bait me into playing the ethnic card, commending me for not bringing up issues of ethinicity. Thank you, Mr Mawroh, but I don’t need a gold star for basic decency. What I do need is a clear debate. One based on facts, not feelings. You say I cherry-pick the law? I say you’ve turned the whole tree into a self-serving metaphor.
The government’s relocation effort isn’t perfect. No policy ever is. But it is a step towards fairness, order, and dignity, for vendors and citizens alike. We cannot let a handful of ideological absolutists convince us that demanding civic order is elitism, or that every enforcement of law is oppression.
Interestingly, today’s spectacle in front of the MUDA office. The street vendors’ association staged a protest right in the middle of the road, blocking traffic for over an hour while chanting “Ha ri lajong katba mon”—”In my town I can do whatever I want.” If that doesn’t sum up the entitlement of lawless advocacy, I don’t know what does.
And for those still unsure whether these vendors violated the law: yes, they did. Besides vending in no-vending zones (including hospital perimeters, Nazareth Hospital & Civil Hospital), they operate without cleanliness, and some without FSSAI license, and ignored public safety norms. The 2014 Act clearly states that vending is protected, not unregulated. No certificate, no legal ground. It’s not elitism, it’s enforcement. But yes, we must also confront the irregularities within the Certificate of Vending (CoV) system. Several vendors have reportedly received CoVs without proper verification, while others continue vending without any certificate at all. This undermines the very spirit of the Street Vendors Act, which was designed to balance livelihood with legality. The CoV process must be audited, transparent, and subject to community oversight. If vending is to be protected, it must also be regulated.
Lastly, let’s talk about what’s being framed as a rich versus poor battle. Are local entrepreneurs, paying rent, taxes, and compliance fees, suddenly part of the “elite class”? Is every shopkeeper in Shillong now a villain for obeying the law? The narrative has been warped beyond recognition. What we are witnessing isn’t class war, it’s a legal framework catching up with the chaos of unregulated urban growth. The truth is simple. The MUDA relocation is working. Vendors are earning, shoppers are walking, the city is breathing. Some people may miss the chaos because it gave them a cause. But most of us are happy to move on, with the law, with the people, and toward a cleaner, safer Shillong.
To all those still watching this unfolding drama, I say this: we can be a compassionate city without being a chaotic one. We can support vendors without turning sidewalks into slums. And yes- brace yourself-we can even cite Section 10(1) without setting the Constitution on fire.
(The writer is a student Of St Edmund’s College, BA Political Science)