Wooden Coffins, Copper Savings
Editor,
I wish to congratulate the MeECL on their spectacular performance in Umtangling.
It takes an extraordinary level of apathy to receive repeated warnings about rotting infrastructure and decide that the most cost-effective “repair” is to wait for the wires to fall and use children as grounding rods.
My heart goes out to whoever it is responsible for keeping those wires in the air and in order, it must be exhausting to ignore so many complaints. I hope the “unimaginable tragedy” of two siblings and their friend dying in the mud doesn’t disturb their afternoon tea.
I assume the bill for the electricity used to melt those three bodies will be sent to the grieving parents shortly? It would be an absolute shame to let those units go to waste.
Yours etc.,
Ellerine Diengdoh,
Via email
Who Deserves the Blame?
Editor,
Apropos the letter “Meghalaya Deserves Better” by Pdianghun Mawlong (ST July 17, 2026) there is a quiet anger growing in the state, one that does not always appear in newspapers, political speeches or official reports. It resides in the homes of thousands of educated young people who wake up every morning wondering when their opportunity will arrive.
It resides in the minds of graduates who carefully preserve their certificates inside old folders, not because those documents have brought them success, but because they represent years of sacrifice, expectation and hope. It exists among parents who invested everything they could into their children’s education, believing that knowledge would become the foundation of a better future. Yet for many families, that promise remains incomplete. The tragedy of Meghalaya is not the absence of talent. The state has never lacked intelligent, hardworking and ambitious young people. Its colleges and universities continue to produce graduates with dreams of becoming teachers, administrators, entrepreneurs, professionals and community leaders. These young people are not asking for special treatment or demanding shortcuts. They ask for something much simpler and more fundamental: a fair opportunity to prove their worth.
But increasingly, many are beginning to question whether merit alone is enough. From childhood, society teaches a powerful lesson: Study hard. Respect your teachers. Work honestly. Develop your skills. One day, your efforts will be rewarded. Parents and teachers repeat this message ad nauseam. Young people believe it because they still believe that the world operates on fairness. However, after years of education and preparation, many discover a painful reality. A degree does not guarantee employment. Ability does not guarantee recognition. Hard work does not overcome systems that people perceive as influenced by connections, favouritism and unequal access to opportunities.
This is where disappointment turns into frustration. Behind every unemployed graduate is a human story that cannot be captured by statistics alone. There is a mother who sacrificed her own needs so her child could study. There is a father who worked extra hours to meet educational expenses. There is a young person who spent years preparing for a career that never materialised. When such individuals remain unemployed despite having knowledge, skills and determination, the damage goes far beyond financial hardship. It affects confidence, dignity and faith in the very institutions that encouraged them to dream. A society cannot continuously tell its youth to believe in merit while allowing them to feel that merit is powerless.
One of the biggest challenges facing Meghalaya today is the growing perception that opportunity is not always distributed fairly. Whether through recruitment processes, appointments or access to public institutions, every controversy that raises questions about transparency creates a deeper sense of insecurity among young people. The issue is not only whether a particular decision was right or wrong. The larger issue is whether citizens believe the system is fair. Trust, once lost, is difficult to rebuild. Public positions are not personal possessions. Government employment, public appointments and opportunities connected to institutions belong to the people. They are responsibilities entrusted by citizens and must therefore be handled with the highest standards of transparency and accountability.
The debate surrounding backdoor entry, nepotism and favouritism in public appointments has become one of the most sensitive issues in Meghalaya. The controversy involving Sanbor Shullai and Ricky Shullai became a subject of public discussion after questions were raised regarding appointments of relatives within the Meghalaya Legislative Assembly. Sanbor Shullai defended the appointments and rejected allegations of wrongdoing. Regardless of how individuals view that particular controversy, the wider concern it created cannot simply be dismissed. The deeper question is this: when people see relatives or individuals connected to those in power receiving opportunities linked to public institutions, does the system provide enough transparency to assure ordinary citizens that everyone had an equal chance?
This question matters because public confidence is built not only by following rules but by ensuring that people trust those rules. A talented young person from a middle class or lower middle-class background should not feel that their greatest disadvantage is not their qualification, but their lack of influence. Nepotism creates a dangerous environment where young people begin believing that relationships matter more than ability. When that belief spreads it discourages excellence, weakens motivation and pushes talented individuals to look elsewhere for opportunities. No society can afford to make its youth believe that success depends more on who they know than what they know.
Concerns about transparency have also extended to recruitment practices in various public-sector bodies, including appointments in organisations such as the tainted Meghalaya Tourism Development Corporation (MTDC). Critics have questioned recruitment processes where written examinations are dispensed with and interviews are a mere formality. When clear evaluation criteria, transparency and accountability are lacking, it reveals that personal connections influence outcomes. For unemployed youths who spend years preparing for competitive examinations, the belief that opportunities are decided behind closed doors can be deeply discouraging. Public institutions must therefore ensure that recruitment methods are not only lawful but also transparent enough to convince citizens that merit remains the deciding factor.
Frustration worsens when solutions offered to unemployment do not always translate into real transformation. Skill development has often been presented as an answer to Meghalaya’s employment crisis. The idea is simple: provide training, develop practical abilities and connect young people with jobs. Programmes implemented through institutions such as the Meghalaya State Skill Development Society (MSSDS) were created to improve employability and creating pathways towards livelihoods. But the success of skill development cannot be measured only by the number of people trained or the number of certificates issued. A certificate doesn’t pay household expenses. A training completion letter cannot replace a stable career. The real question is whether the young person who completes the programme can actually build a secure and dignified future.
Concerns and public discussions surrounding certain skill-placement initiatives have raised questions about whether training opportunities always lead to suitable employment. Some trainees have expressed concerns about placements outside the state and whether the work they received matched their expectations, while MSSDS has stated that verification processes were undertaken and that certain allegations were unsubstantiated. Regardless of the outcome of individual cases, these debates highlight a larger issue: young people and their families need confidence that skill development programmes are not designed only to achieve numbers, but to create meaningful opportunities.
The purpose of training should never be limited to producing certificates but for empowerment. Young people who enrol in a skill programme believe it will change their lives. Many come from families that cannot afford repeated disappointment. If training does not lead to employment, frustration becomes desperation because the promise came from a system that was expected to provide a solution. The state must therefore ask a difficult question: are we creating opportunities, or are we simply creating documents that prove people attended programmes?
Yours etc.,
Sandaburom Syiemlieh
Sohra, Khlieh Shnong
