By Jairaj Chettry
(Based on a compilation from different sources)
Across India, a quiet undercurrent of unease has begun reshaping everyday conversations. One hears it in the way people linger a little longer at tea stalls, speaking in lowered tones; in the staff rooms of schools where teachers pause between discussions of lessons and students; in the hum of busy market corners where casual chatter now carries a subtle edge of concern; and in the gentle murmur of families settling in for the night, wondering aloud about the safety of the world beneath their feet.
This shift in mood began soon after the newly revised Earthquake Design Code and seismic zonation guidelines (2025) — widely reported in national newspapers — redrew the country’s seismic landscape with a clarity that is difficult to dismiss. What was once a matter of technical maps and distant research has entered public consciousness. The new zonation places much of the Northeast, including Meghalaya, within regions marked for significantly higher seismic vulnerability, prompting people to rethink long-held assumptions about safety, stability, and preparedness.
It is not panic that drives these conversations, but a growing awareness — a collective sense that the earth beneath us has a memory and a message, and that it is time we listened.
For Meghalaya, this knowledge is not new.
It feels more like an overdue acknowledgment of what our hills, homes, and collective memory have whispered for generations.
Anyone who has lived here knows these stories well:
* Nights when a sudden tremor sent utensils rattling.
* Windows trembling in their frames.
* Fine cracks creeping across old walls like quiet messages.
* Slopes giving way after days of unrelenting rain.
* Families stepping out into the cold, holding each other as they waited for the vibrations to fade.
These are not tales from a distant past.
They are reminders — gentle yet persistent — that this land speaks, urging us to remain alert, aware, and prepared.
Where Beauty Rests on a Moving Earth
The Shillong Plateau — famed for its rolling hills, sculpted valleys, and cascading waterfalls — rests atop one of the most active geological regions in the Indian subcontinent. The plateau is framed by major tectonic structures: the Dawki Fault in the south, the Oldham Fault in the north, the Kopili Fault stretching across Assam and Meghalaya, and the Dhubri Fault linking deeper tectonic pressures. These systems accumulate strain quietly, sometimes for decades, only to release it in seconds.
Nothing illustrates this more dramatically than the Great Assam–Shillong Earthquake of 12 June 1897. It was not merely an earthquake; it was a reshaping of the land. The northern edge of the plateau surged upward, rivers abandoned their ancient channels, cliffs collapsed, and settlements across the Khasi and Jaintia Hills were reduced to rubble. Eyewitnesses described the earth rolling like waves and church bells ringing without human touch — the sound, they said, rose from the ground itself.
More than a century later, the event remains one of the world’s most powerful intraplate earthquakes, studied extensively for its extraordinary force. And even today, in the subtle tremors beneath Meghalaya, one senses the lingering memory of that upheaval.
The shaking did not stop with 1897.
The Rongrengiri earthquake of 1951 rattled the Garo Hills.
The 2016 Imphal earthquake jolted Shillong before dawn.
Between such events, the land continues to shift. Seismic records indicate nearly 250 earthquakes of magnitude 4 and above within a 300-km radius over the past decade — roughly one every two weeks.
Our elders often say, “This land is alive.”
Science now echoes what they have always known.
What Remains at Stake When Preparedness Is Ignored
Recent reports in The Shillong Times, The Indian Express, and other publications have outlined the consequences of a major earthquake in the Northeast. One hazard assessment suggested the possibility of a significant event this century. Scenario-based analyses estimated that if a large earthquake struck today, financial losses could be staggering.
These are not predictions meant to instill fear. They are reminders of what needs protection.
Hospitals and Health Facilities
Several hospitals in Shillong, Tura, Nongpoh, and Jowai operate in buildings that need seismic strengthening. In a disaster, they must stand — lives depend on them.
Schools and Learning Spaces
Many older school buildings predate modern seismic guidelines. A major quake during school hours could be devastating.
Rapid Urban Growth
As towns across Meghalaya expand, construction quality becomes critical. A single weak structure in a crowded area can trigger cascading damage.
Roads and Connectivity
Strong shaking can trigger landslides, cutting off entire districts and slowing rescue efforts.
Cultural and Heritage Structures — What We Stand to Lose
Meghalaya’s cultural identity is embedded in its landscape: traditional Khasi and Garo homes built with ancestral wisdom, monoliths standing silent in village grounds, colonial-era structures that reflect an older Shillong.
A powerful earthquake threatens not only these structures but the heritage and emotions they embody. These are not mere buildings; they are living archives. Once lost, they cannot be recreated, leaving irreplaceable voids in our collective memory.
Tourism and Local Livelihoods — A Fragile Lifeline
Tourism forms one of Meghalaya’s strongest economic pillars. Homestays, cafes, guides, transport operators, artisans — thousands rely on it. Yet tourism is fragile. It rests upon safety, perception, and trust.
After a major quake:
Visitors may hesitate to return. Natural attractions may be closed or damaged. Small businesses may struggle for survival. A scenario referenced in national reporting suggests that economic losses in the Northeast could exceed Rs 1 lakh crore under certain assumptions. Whatever the precise number, the message is clear:
Preparedness will always cost less than recovery.
Lessons From Countries That Live With Earthquakes Daily:
Japan, Chile, and New Zealand face thousands of earthquakes every year — yet large-scale disasters are comparatively fewer. Their success lies not only in engineering but in the discipline of preparedness.
* Buildings are designed to bend, not break.
* Schools conduct regular drills.
* Evacuation routes are widely known.
* Communities practice readiness as a way of life.
Their message speaks to us: Earthquakes are natural. Disasters are not.
What Meghalaya Can — and Must — Do Now
Protecting Meghalaya does not begin with vast budgets.It begins with clarity of purpose.
* We need awareness — understanding our risks.
* We need honesty — identifying our weak structures.
* We need steady action — taken consistently.
Preparedness includes:
* Enforcing seismic building codes,
* Retrofitting vulnerable structures,
* Conducting regular school and community drills,
* Training local volunteers,
* Designating safe open spaces,
* Sharing accurate public information.
Preparedness is not solely a government duty. It belongs to families, schools, neighbourhoods — to every citizen.
Only then does a vulnerable region become a resilient one.
Why This Cannot Be Delayed
A scenario study once cited in The Assam Tribune suggested that parts of Shillong’s commercial areas could face severe damage in a strong earthquake. Whether exact or approximate, the implication is unmistakable:
* Our vulnerability is real.
* The cost of inaction will be high.
* Our population has grown.
* Our buildings have multiplied.
* Our dependence on infrastructure has deepened.
* But preparedness has not kept pace.
Earthquakes follow no timetable. They follow only the laws of the earth.
Yet This Remains a Story of Hope
Meghalaya has always been defined by resilience.In moments of crisis, communities here instinctively come together — checking on neighbours, sharing essentials, offering help without being asked.That spirit is our greatest strength.If we pair that spirit with preparedness, we can safeguard our tomorrow.
When the next tremor comes — and history says it will —may it find us calm, aware, and united, not shaken by fear but steady with readiness.In remembering the movements of the earth beneath us, we are not learning fear — we are learning responsibility, and with that responsibility comes the power to protect the Meghalaya we cherish.
(The author is a retired Headmaster)
