Blaming the click, ignoring the customer: Salesmanship dying?
The familiar lament that online shopping is gobbling up customers, echoes through the bustling lanes of Police Bazar. It’s a convenient villain for dwindling footfall, but a stroll through Shillong’s vibrant fashion hub suggests the real culprit might be closer to home—in fact, it might be sitting right behind the counter, scrolling through Instagram.
It seems the art of salesmanship has been put on silent mode. The scene is tragically common: a potential buyer trying on shoes, unaided, while the shopkeeper is lost in the blue glow of a smartphone. This apathy is a world away from the electric hustle of Guwahati’s Fancy Market, where proprietors treat every customer query as a personal mission, unearthing treasures from their stock with a flourish.
In a city renowned for its contemporary style, the personal touch is not an optional extra; it’s the main event. As one discerning shopper noted, “I only stick around where the salesman is keen on selling the right item.”
Perhaps the issue isn’t the convenience of a checkout button online, but the cold shoulder offered in-store. Before Shillong’s retailers convey another obituary for brick-and-mortar, they might do well to look up from their screens. After all, you can’t compete with an algorithm if you’ve forgotten the simple human connection that was once your greatest asset.
Cherry Blossom Festival: Chaos at its best
Shillong celebrates the annual Cherry Blossom Festival with promises of a pink paradise of floral bliss. What was meant to be a serene celebration of nature’s fleeting beauty devolved into chaos this time around.
Hordes of tourists descended on Shillong, all hyped for Instagram-worthy snaps of blushing pink trees. Little did they realise that the festival was not even about the cherries. Instead, it has morphed into a glorified music and dance festival.
Critics howl at venue changes, like ditching Ward’s Lake for JN Stadium, leaving fans disappointed and locals disoriented. Citizens of Shillong, at least those in close proximity of JN Stadium, were left to nurse their “proximity fatigue” on Sunday. While Friday was bad, Saturday turned worse. Hundreds of cars and two-wheelers made their way to Shillong as if escaping an apocalypse in Guwahati.
Traffic chaos reigned supreme—vehicles parked everywhere, litter overflowed on the city’s potholed roads.
In the end, Shillong’s Cherry Blossom Festival is less a bloom and more a wilted metaphor for modern excess: pretty on the surface but a thorny tangle of human folly underneath. There are voices suggesting that from next year, the government should change the venue to New Shillong Township and rechristen the festival as “New Shillong Music Blossom Festival.”
An opinion poll to this effect may not be entirely out of line.
