By Shemphang H Phanbuh
For generations, Sohra—renowned for its lush cliffs, living root bridges, roaring waterfalls, and ethereal mist—has stood as a symbol of Meghalaya’s natural glory. It is not merely a location on the map but a place of deep cultural memory and environmental sanctity. We, the people of Sohra, have always held our land in reverence. But today, that reverence is being tested—not by time, but by unchecked tourism and the silent but growing threat it brings: waste.
In recent years, the Government of Meghalaya has rightly identified tourism as a potential engine of economic growth, investing crores of rupees to improve infrastructure and promote destinations like Sohra to national and international audiences. These efforts have succeeded. Sohra now sees thousands of tourists every week—many of them drawn by its breathtaking beauty, unique climate, and warm hospitality.
But beauty without balance can become a burden. As tourism increases, so does the waste left behind—a crisis growing quietly but dangerously. From plastic bottles and food wrappers to packaging and disposable utensils, the very landscapes that attract tourists are now becoming contaminated by their careless disposal practices. The cliffs remain majestic, but now with plastic clinging to their edges. The footpaths through our sacred groves now often carry not just pilgrims and trekkers, but trails of litter.
What is particularly alarming is that while the number of homestays, cafés, and small businesses has grown rapidly—bringing in welcome income for local families—there has been no proportional growth in waste management infrastructure. Most of these establishments produce waste daily, and with no structured system to segregate, collect, or recycle it, the problem has been quietly pushed out of sight: into nearby forests, down streams, or into shallow pits behind homes.
This is not sustainable. And it is certainly not safe—for our environment, for our health, or for the future of tourism itself.
If we focus only on promoting tourism without preparing to manage its consequences—especially the problem of waste—then we are not building progress; we are inviting collapse. We must understand that promoting tourism is not just about attracting visitors, but also about protecting what they come to see.
If we continue down this path, we will be remembered not as caretakers of a paradise, but as the generation that allowed it to decline in the name of short-term profit.
As a community, we must ask hard questions. Are we building without planning? Are we welcoming tourists without preparing for their impact? Are we chasing income while ignoring responsibility? The time has come for Sohra to choose: do we continue to promote tourism blindly, or do we first build systems that ensure its sustainability?
To begin with, we need a comprehensive waste management plan tailored specifically for tourist destinations like Sohra. This includes:
Mandatory waste segregation at homestays and restaurants.
Regular and systematic waste collection in all localities and tourist zones, managed by local shnong authorities in coordination with government departments.
Recycling units for plastic, glass, and compostable waste.
Strict enforcement of fines for littering.
Awareness campaigns for both tourists and locals.
If crores can be spent on roads, viewpoints, and tourist accommodations, then surely a portion can be invested in basic recycling infrastructure. Small-scale plastic recycling units, shredders, and waste processing centers can be installed in key locations. These are not just machines—they are investments in long-term sustainability. Tourism without waste management is not development; it is negligence disguised as progress.
Let us not forget: even household waste alone is already a challenge in Sohra. Many shnong struggle to find space and resources just to manage the daily garbage from local residents. So what happens when thousands of tourists arrive every week, each contributing more waste—plastic wrappers, bottles, food packaging—without any accountability or system in place to handle it? The truth is, most of this tourist waste is not even considered in official planning or local coordination. We are trying to solve a local problem, while ignoring a national-scale footprint that keeps growing each season. If the waste from 500 households is overwhelming, how can we justify ignoring the waste from 5,000 visitors?
Our focus must shift from merely attracting tourists to managing tourism wisely. That means investing in systems that ensure waste is reduced, reused, and recycled—not dumped into forests or rivers.
Additionally, every homestay, lodge, or café should be held accountable for the waste it generates. Tour operators must be briefed on responsible tourism practices. Tourists must be educated—through signage, guides, and digital platforms—about the importance of preserving the very land they have come to admire.
But this is not a fight for the government alone. We, the people of Sohra, must lead. Let us not just be hosts—we must be stewards. Every plastic bottle we pick up, every tourist we educate, every child we teach about recycling—is a step toward reclaiming our dignity as guardians of one of nature’s finest gifts.
Let us remember: Sohra is not just a tourist spot. It is our home, our heritage, and our responsibility.
We stand at the crossroads. One road leads to short-term gain and long-term damage. The other demands responsibility, but promises resilience and renewal.
Let us choose wisely. Let us choose Sohra.