In an unexpected blend of governance and greenery, Chief Minister Conrad K. Sangma took his cabinet out of the Secretariat and into the open air—holding a full-fledged meeting at Shillong’s beloved Ward’s Lake, or Nan Polok, as locals call it. At first, the decision invited puzzled looks and murmurs about unnecessary costs. But as the outcomes became clear, the doubts quickly gave way to approval.
Ward’s Lake—named after Sir William Ward, the then Chief Commissioner of undivided Assam and brought to life by Colonel Hopkins in 1894—has long been one of Shillong’s most cherished public spaces. Recently the venue for the Shillong Literary Festival, its tree-lined banks and iconic wooden bridge provided a serene yet symbolic setting for what would become a bold government decision.
In what many consider unprecedented, the Meghalaya cabinet used this outdoor meeting to announce sweeping measures aimed at dismantling VIP culture in the state. For years, Shillong’s narrow roads—especially the stretch now widely known as Ward’s Lake Road, connecting Police Bazar, Malki and Laitumkhrah—have been the stage for relentless VIP convoys, sirens, and the everyday inconvenience of commuters forced to pull aside for officials rushing through traffic.
This time, the government seemed to listen.
Chief Minister Sangma minced no words:
“Even the Chief Minister’s Office will now need permission from the Transport Department to use flashers,” he declared—signalling that no office, not even his own, would be exempt.
A crackdown, long demanded by the public
Residents have long complained about convoys that blare sirens even when not attending official duties. The frustration peaked during festivals. As one Shillong resident angrily remarked during a major music event:
“Why must we walk miles in the cold because roads are blocked, while VIPs zoom past with sirens just to go home for a hot shower or have dinner served hot and ready? It’s insensitive.”
Such comments reflect not just irritation but a fatigue with entitlement—one the government can no longer ignore.
Chief Minister Sangma announced wide-ranging restrictions:
Flashers and Beacons:
Even the Chief Minister’s Office must seek permission from the Transport Department to use flashers. Red lights and beacons, already banned nationally, will be enforced strictly.
Tinted Glasses:
Allowed only for government vehicles attached to ‘Z-Plus’ and ‘Z-category’ protectees.
Sirens:
Reserved strictly for Police, Emergency services, and authorised VVIP/VIP escorts.
Nameplates:
Only individuals officially cleared by the Transport Department may use them; misuse will invite action. The Flag Code of India (2002) will also be enforced rigorously.
To highlight the government’s seriousness, the Chief Minister cited a recent case where Ri-Bhoi police fined Tanzil Hussain, son of a Congress MP from Assam, for misusing a flasher.
A meeting in public, for the public
Although a high-security bubble shielded the immediate meeting area, the rest of Ward’s Lake remained open—its joggers, families, and strolling tourists carrying on with their day. It visually reinforced the message: decision-making need not be distant from the people it affects.
The setting itself said something powerful. Under the open sky, framed by pine trees and a century-old lake, the Cabinet seemed to acknowledge what citizens have been saying for years: that public roads, public spaces, and public patience cannot be held hostage to privilege.
Whether this marks a lasting shift or a symbolic start, one thing is clear:
By holding power beside the lake, Meghalaya has signalled that it no longer wants power to dominate the road.
