Thirsty in the Abode of Clouds
It was tragedy for the ages as water supply in Shillong shut down last week, leaving lakhs of citizens parched. Blame it on the old and expired pipelines or the Public Health Engineering Department’s comedy of errors, the water scarcity was a grim reminder of the difficulties people face without water.
It all started innocently enough on December 10 when the main pipeline under the Greater Shillong Water Supply Scheme decided to spring a leak – or rather, burst – in the 101 Area. The PHED announced a quick four-day shutdown for repairs. After a seven-day wait, the tap opened up for just two hours when the pipes gave up again.
With private tankers charging exorbitant rates, residents had to resort to crash courses on water austerity measures.
One restaurant owner in Kench’s Trace shifted to disposable utensils to save water while others put off washing clothes and the daily shower (a ritual followed by certain brave people in winters) for the entire duration of the shutdown.
MLAs fumed over the “unprofessionalism”, the VPP asserted that water is a basic right, groups like HYC and HNYF blamed substandard repairs and years of neglect and even the Meghalaya High Court jumped in, registering a PIL based on The Shillong Times reports.
However, the only people happy in the city were the tanker tycoons as they raked in the moolah.
Even those with money had a hard time getting tankers as they were fully booked.
While the water supply has resumed, the common folk have developed the habit of storing and rationing water, lest the pipes decide to play spoilsport again.
Shillong’s present becoming history
Shillong’s cityscape is changing—quietly, steadily, and almost unnoticed. Right under our noses, familiar landmarks are being altered, erased, or absorbed into a rapidly evolving urban form, often before we have time to register their passing.
What was once an arduous flight of stairs leading to Rilbong has now been transformed into a steep, seamless incline. Also, the busy junction at Rilbong is on the brink of being connected by a four-lane arterial road descending from Upper Shillong. Anjalee Point, too, no longer looks the way it once did, its contours reshaped by development.
Even institutions that once anchored collective memory have vanished. The iconic St. Anthony’s LP School has been reduced to rubble—old news, perhaps, but emblematic of a larger pattern.
These changes are unfolding quietly, without ceremony. In the years to come, new structures will replace what many of us still swear are Shillong’s most defining features. What feels permanent today may soon survive only in recollection.
Perhaps this is a moment to pause. To observe. To document.
Photograph the streets, stairways, schools, and corners you hold dear. Because before you realise it, they too may belong only to history.
