Welcome to Meghalaya Matters
Connecting Communities Through Media
Meghalaya Matters is a people-centric platform committed to amplifying the voices, issues, and aspirations of the people of Meghalaya. Rooted in the belief that informed citizens are empowered citizens, we aim to foster civic awareness, promote ethical journalism, and inspire community-led change.
From the rolling hills of the Khasi and Jaintia regions to the rich cultural heritage of Garo Hills, we bring you stories that matter — stories of resilience, tradition, identity, governance, and progress. Whether it’s policy decisions, social movements, cultural expressions, or grassroots voices, our mission is to ensure that no narrative is left unheard.
This space is your space — for dialogue, for insight, for action. Join us as we explore the heartbeat of Meghalaya, one story at a time.
"For the People. By the People."
Reimagining India in Authoritarian Times
By Cherian Momin | Social Activist | Meghalaya
To reimagine India today, especially from the lens of the North-East, is first and foremost to speak truthfully—to bear witness to the injustices around us, to name the divisions being carved into our land and people, and to call out those in power who manufacture silence and fear.
I speak today not only as a Garo tribal from the hills of Meghalaya, but also as a Christian, an indigenous person, and most importantly, a concerned citizen of this fragile democracy. I do not wear my identity as a badge—but in the face of increasing homogenisation, I must assert my layered reality as a form of resistance.
When India gained independence in 1947, the tribes of the North East—including the Garos, Khasis, Jaintias, Mizos, Nagas, and others—were hesitant to merge their unique governance systems into the new Indian state. That hesitance was not treason—it was valid and dignified. Our elders believed in dialogue, in deliberation. Leaders like Rev JJM Nichols Roy and Jaipal Singh Munda stood firm in the Constituent Assembly, demanding a federal structure that protected tribal autonomy under the Sixth Schedule.
Their vision was not of a singular India, but a union of diversities—an India of many truths, cultures, beliefs, and sovereignties. But that promise has withered.
Today, we are no longer governed—we are ruled. We refer to those in power as the regime, a term that evokes control, uniformity, and fear. The spirit of federalism is being crushed under the weight of centralisation and double-engine governance. The idea of one language, one law, one culture is incompatible with a land that speaks in hundreds of tongues and walks in countless traditions.
In the North East alone, more than 200 tribes speak over 300 languages. We practise Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, and indigenous faiths. We exist in vibrant complexity—something no New Delhi ideology can flatten.
But what we see instead is the militarisation of governance, the commodification of culture, and the betrayal of our constitutional safeguards. In Manipur, we are witnessing not a collapse, but a carefully executed experiment—a test case in divide-and-rule, in pitting communities against each other to serve a larger majoritarian agenda.
It is not accidental that peace has evaded Manipur for months. The regime has weaponised differences to suppress unity. Instead of healing wounds, it stokes fires, all while extracting from our region—our forests, rivers, minerals, and now, our dignity.
We must ask ourselves: Are we merely subjects in someone else's design of India?
As Garos, we must stand in solidarity not only with our own but with Dalits, Muslims, Kashmiris, farmers, students, and all oppressed peoples across India. If we remain silent while others are persecuted, we aid in our own marginalisation. The regime wants us fragmented. But we must insist on being a Union of Communities, not a hierarchy of castes and creeds.
Let us also call out the hypocrisy of our local leadership—those who have sold out our future for power, post, and profit. What we have in our states is not regional governance, but BJP-lite regimes masquerading in traditional garb. They wrap themselves in our fabrics, wear our headgear, recite our greetings—but rob us of our forests, lands, and laws.
What remains for us to hold onto, then?
For me, I turn to the wisdom of our Garo ancestors. Like our Khasi brethren who live by Tip Briew-Tip Blei—"To know humanity is to know God"—we too believe in community, in compassion, in coexistence. And like Kamai Ia Ka Hok—"Earn righteousness"—our Garo principles emphasise living with truth, not greed. We believe in A’chik Achikrangni Nokma—a land and people whose strength lies in justice, not dominance.
We are not perfect. Our societies also have struggles—against patriarchy, corruption, and division. But we have a foundation to build upon: shared lives, shared memories, shared struggles.
So let us not be cowed into silence. Let us remember that this India—this imprisoned, divided, fearful India—is not our destiny. Let us rage, not just in protest, but in hope. Let us imagine an India where we can ride trains without fear, share our food without shame, speak our names with pride, and walk together—different, yet united.
Like the river that winds through our hills—sometimes calm, sometimes fierce—we move forward, bending but never breaking. For beyond every bend lies the vast ocean of freedom we still dream of.
