‘Today Shillong is as safe as any other metro.’ Picture by S.H. Patgiri

During the decade between 1990 and 2000, Meghalaya’s cosmopolitan capital city, Shillong, went through a contortion. Militancy had raised its ugly head and an all-pervasive fear psychosis settled over the city like a cloud of gloom. Extortion was at an all-time high. Those who did not pay up were killed instantly. The dead became living examples to hundreds of others who were served extortion notices and who were hesitant over whether to pay or not. After the death of every victim, extortion notes were served with greater frequency. Collection of payments from victims became a smooth operation, functioning without a glitch.

During that time, shops closed soon after dark and streets were deserted. Shillong had become a dead city. The state police did not seem to know what to do. Militancy was a new phenomenon. Though Nagaland and Assam were well into the era of insurgency, Meghalaya lived with the illusion that it was an island of peace amid a sea of turmoil. But like all other skills that get imbibed and imitated, militancy, too, was exported into the state by activists of the NSCN (I-M), who provided arms training and the strategies necessary to convince a terror-stricken population that they should toe the line or face serious consequences. But a far more important reason why militancy gained a foothold in Meghalaya was because it had sympathisers within the ruling political elite.

The Hynniewtrep National Liberation Council, led by its ideologue Julius Dorphang and Cheris Thangkhiew, became recognised rebels without a cause. Of course the two had to have an alibi for the huge collection spree they had ventured into. The government was a convenient whipping boy. They were accused of colonising the state by taking away everything Meghalaya produced to enrich other states. The ideologues chose to ignore that Meghalaya has a peculiar land tenure system according to which land and everything under it and above it belong to the people. Ownership is by clans, communities or individuals. Hence, the huge volume of coal that was sold to Bangladesh or other parts of India actually benefited individual mine owners. The government got a pittance from royalty. It is also ironic that those who pay the biggest amounts in terms of extortion are coal mine owners and truck owners. In the Garo hills, where militancy is still ruling the roost, coal mine owners continue to be taxed even today.

Rebel menace

From the early part of 2002 when F.A. Khonglam became the chief minister, the police were given a free hand to tackle militancy. Khonglam himself spoke strongly against extortion and terror and threatened to bring down the menace. Some semblance of orderliness began to be felt. But Khonglam had just one year. In March 2003, a new Congress led government, headed by D.D. Lapang, took over. R.G. Lyngdoh, the young, articulate and fearless legislator became Meghalaya’s home minister. Lyngdoh had never made any bones about his feelings towards the militants. He was one person who spoke out fearlessly, condemning the militants for creating a fear psychosis and putting a halt to economic activities in the state. On August 15 and January 26, when the HNLC would call a bandh, Lyngdoh would walk with his supporters to Polo Ground defying the bandh call. Late T.H. Rangad was another courageous MLA who defied the militants’ diktat. These were the only two legislators who stood up to be counted. The rest preferred to stay indoors or to attend the official parade with security men in tow.

As soon as Lyngdoh took over as the home minister, he went hammer and tongs at the HNLC in Khasi and Jaintia hills and the Achik National Volunteer Council in the Garo hills. The minister instructed his police force to file FIRs against those traders who paid money to militants. The traders ran for cover and engaged lawyers to file anticipatory bail bonds on their behalf. Lyngdoh’s mission was simple. Cut off funds flow to the militant’s coffers and smash their backbone. It also provided the traders with an excuse not to pay the militants in the future, on the pretext that they themselves would get into trouble. Then the Bhutan offensive against Ulfa happened. Meghalaya’s militant outfits knew they were in trouble. It would be only a matter of time before their hideouts in Bangladesh were also destroyed as a result of the SAARC deliberations. The state police was also breathing down their necks. HNLC cadres knew they had no choice. They would either be killed in the encounters or by their own leaders on very flimsy pretext. They decided to send feelers to the government that they wanted to surrender.

Rehabilitation

A rehabilitation package was worked out and the surrender process is still on although the hardcore leaders are still at large. And understandably so. They have a bigger stake in remaining holed up in Bangladesh where they own huge acres of betel nut, betel leaf and fruit plantations apart from other corporate deals where they have invested the loot collected over the years. The surrendered militants, most of them young school and college dropouts, told their story. They had joined with the hope of securing a better future for themselves and the future generation. But once in the jungle they experienced the hollowness of their leaders and the huge gap between their words and deeds. Disillusioned, they responded to the government’s call to surrender.

It is partly this depletion of firepower in the militant’s armoury and partly the eagerness of the community to set the wheels of the economy rolling that has today put militancy into the back-burner. Shillong is today a city that is as safe as any other metro. This is indicated by the city’s nightlife that has proliferated over the last year or two and attracts the young, restless crowd who otherwise had nowhere to go. Musical soirees started at Cloud 9 in Hotel Centre Point. The place has a cosy bar which extends onto a dance floor on weekends and during events. A couple of months ago the city’s first regular discotheque, The Platinum, came up in Hotel Polo Towers. Frequented by the hip crowd of Shillong, Platinum also attracts a regular clientele from Guwahati who come over to Shillong for a cool weekend.

Growing nightlife

On Friday last, Shillong’s first resto-bar cum discotheque, The Tango, was launched with much fanfare. Located at the basement of the swanky, ‘OB Shopping Mall’, at Police Bazar, the city’s commercial hub, this resto-bar run by the local Tariang family seeks to create a separate exclusive ambience for its select clientele. Entry to its events is by membership. Air-conditioned and well- furnished, the Tango is served by a batch of well-groomed staff. It promises to be an interesting place for people to let their hair down.

All the above outlets for fun-loving night birds are indications that Shillong is once again alive and kicking. At long last the city is recovering from its trauma. Fear like a whiff of vapour is also dissipating. Not that Shillong’s problems are over. There are inherent ethnic pressures and pulls that need to be sorted out. But these have greater chances of being resolved in a climate of peace that is slowly coming back to this hill station.