Editor,
As I reconnect with Shillong and resume living here, I increasingly feel that goods are produced and services rendered not because businesses must compete for customers, but because the public has few alternatives and is forced to accept whatever is offered.
It is in this context that I wish to recount a few personal experiences related to customer service and grievance redressal.
A reputed PSU bank in Police Bazaar has held my mother’s family pension account for nearly forty years. Over that long association, service has generally been functional with only minor hiccups—reasonable expectations from a government bank handling a basic pension account. However, in November, the pension was abruptly suspended. The most likely reason was the life certificate we submitted digitally through the official app during the first week of the month. For reasons known only to the bank, the submission was either not accepted or not processed. When we approached the branch, the staff themselves appeared unsure of what had gone wrong or how the matter could be resolved. One is left to wonder: can bank authorities truly afford to be so nonchalant when a customer’s livelihood is suddenly blocked?
That same week, when Upper Mawprem and adjoining localities were already grappling with a water crisis, I experienced a power outage that lasted over forty-two hours. Meghalaya’s electricity helplines are inactive at night, forcing complaints to wait until morning. Although a few personnel arrived near sunset, they remained disengaged, offered no explanation, and casually said they would return “in fifteen minutes.” Darkness fell—and then silence. They never came back.
Meanwhile, the helpline operator continued offering empty reassurance with repeated chants of “Aayega, aayega,” while practical help arrived only the next day after relentless follow-ups. The electrician eventually diagnosed the issue: the wire connecting the pole to our meter had burned out, and I was told I would need to buy the replacement wire myself. When I pointed out—somewhat light-heartedly—that equipment before the meter legally belongs to the department, he smiled and replied, “Bhaiya, woh zamaana chala gaya.” My choices were simple: purchase the 11-meter wire personally or visit the office, request it, and then hand it over for installation. It goes without saying which option proved quicker.
Yet, this was not always the reality. Years ago, interactions with both the bank and the electricity department felt different. Bank officials were knowledgeable and could guide customers confidently. Electricians arrived promptly, identified faults competently, and took responsibility—assuring us that expenses outside the meter would be borne by the Board.
So what has changed? Where have all those competent employees and technicians—the ones who understood both their roles and their responsibilities—gone?
While others may have endured far greater hardships than mine, should we resign ourselves to the steady erosion of basic competence in grievance handling? A bank is unable to manage or even foresee a pension suspension, despite being the sole authority over disbursement. Citizens were left without electricity for nearly two days in the heart of Shillong. These are not extraordinary demands—they are fundamental expectations of public service delivery.
Ironically, a brief glimmer of efficiency came from an unexpected source. I received a call from Jio Fiber stating that I had raised a complaint about service disruption. Suspecting a scam, I denied making any request. A little later, another call came—this time apparently legitimate—explaining that an automated monitoring system had detected a connectivity failure and generated a service ticket. When I told the caller that I was living in what felt like medieval conditions without electricity, he understood the situation clearly and spoke with confidence. There were no vague promises—only clarity, accountability, and process. For a moment, he felt like a character from a sci-fi series offering a rare moment of rescue from systemic chaos.
Which leads to the inevitable question: Why is customer service in Shillong still governed by verbal assurances instead of accountability? Why are employees neither trained nor empowered to take real ownership of grievances, communicate transparently, and resolve issues effectively?
Until these questions are addressed, “service” will remain little more than a word—promised often, but delivered rarely.
Yours etc.,
Narottam Subedi
Shilling-2
Need for Better Fire Safety in Shillong’s Wooden Homes
Editor,
I am writing to express my concern about the fire safety situation in our city. The recent incident in Goa, where a massive fire caused heavy loss, has made many of us think about how vulnerable our own neighbourhoods are.
A large number of homes and shops in Shillong are built with wood. This gives our city its unique charm, but it also makes these structures much more likely to catch fire. Many of these buildings do not have proper fire safety systems. Even basic measures like fire extinguishers, safe electrical wiring, emergency exits, and regular inspections are missing in many places.
Shillong is a crowded city with narrow roads which makes it harder for fire services to reach quickly. If a major fire breaks out, it could spread fast and put many lives at risk. We cannot wait for a tragedy to remind us of what we already know.
I therefore request the authorities to conduct strict fire safety checks across the city. Building owners should also take responsibility and install basic fire protection equipment. Public awareness campaigns are needed so that people know how to prevent fire hazards and how to respond in an emergency.
We love our city and its old wooden buildings, but we must also protect them and the people living in them. It is time to act before a disaster happens.
Yours etc.,
Devansh Agarwal
Via email
Allegations of malpractices by MPSC
Editor,
The letter, “Restore Integrity in MPSC Exams: A Call for Strict Reforms,” published on December 2, 2025, raised serious concerns about the fairness of the MPSC’s Inspector of Statistics and Junior Co-operative Officer examinations. Reports from the ground now point to alarming irregularities, including:
a) Use of mobile phones inside examination halls
b) Assistance allegedly provided by invigilators
c) Possible leakage and compromise of question papers
d) Instances of mass cheating reminiscent of outdated practices
While many deserving candidates have rightfully earned their place, it is time to reflect honestly: Did the examination environment uphold equal competition? Merit is not merely a number—it decides your career progression. Every candidate must ask: Do I truly deserve where I am today?
The recently declared results only strengthen earlier concerns and reveal the extent of the alleged malpractices. Expanding exam centres to Jowai, Nongstoin, and Tura is a welcome move for accessibility, but decentralisation must never come at the cost of integrity. Fairness cannot be optional.
Stronger safeguards are now essential. Beyond simple frisking and mobile bans, measures such as temporary internet blackouts, compulsory CCTV surveillance, and strict action against both cheating candidates and complicit officials are necessary. Invigilators or government staff who aid wrongdoing must face legal consequences, not just departmental warnings. Finally, the MPSC must urgently transition to computer-based testing (CBT) and secure its question-setting process to prevent leakages and restore faith in public recruitment. Meghalaya’s youth deserve examinations that reward hard work—not manipulation.
The MPSC’s silence on these allegations is deeply disappointing. In a state known for its values, such incidents are unbecoming and have unfairly cast suspicion on candidates who earned their success through genuine merit.
The government often reminds citizens that government jobs are limited. If so, it bears an even greater responsibility to ensure that these few positions are filled through transparent, fair, and corruption-free examinations. The youth of Meghalaya deserve a system that rewards hard work—not manipulation.
I earnestly urge the authorities to address these concerns with urgency and restore public faith in our recruitment institutions.
Yours etc.,
Name withheld on request
Via email
