Shillong

Mrinal Chatterjee

Window Seat 

It was my third and my wife’s first visit to Shillong, the capital of Meghalaya, a picturesque hill station, often called the "Scotland of the East". British colonial administrators coined this term, noting the similarity in scenery to their home country.  Shillong is a place with a rich history. The city was the capital of the Khasi Kingdom, a powerful tribal state that resisted British rule. In 1864, the British established a sanatorium here, and Shillong became a popular hill resort. The city's name is derived from the Khasi god "Lei Shyllong," who is believed to reside on the sacred Shillong Peak.

(Shillong Peak)

Shillong, served as the capital of composite Assam during British rule from from 1874 to 1972.

It played a significant, though often underrepresented, hub in India’s freedom struggle. 

Shillong is known for its stunning natural beauty, with attractions like the Umiam Lake, Elephant Falls, and the Shillong Peak offering breath-taking views; unfortunately my wife could not see the view from Shillong peak because of thick fog.

Jagannath Temple in Shillong

It was Sujit Mohanty, who took us to the Jagannath Temple tucked in the by-lanes of sprawling Police Bazar, the main commercial hub of Shillong. Sujit works as Asst. Professor at National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT) and lovers to explore places.

The Jagannath Temple in Shillong was established in 1903-04 by Shillong Hindu Dhramasabha, which was formed in 1901. The temple which has idols of Shri Jagannath, Balabhadra and Subhadra at one temple and of Nitai-Gour in an adjoining one is managed by the Dhrama Sabha. It hosts significant festivities, including the annual Rath Yatra, which passes through Police Bazar and Tunzil Road. It also acts as a cultural centre offering lesssons in classical music and dance.

There is another Jagannath Temple located in the hilly locality of Malki, in the East Khasi Hills district of Meghalaya.

Built in 1971 by the Odia community, the temple reflects traditional Odisha architecture with its intricate carvings and vibrant colors. It serves as a spiritual haven in Meghalaya's capital, attracting devotees and tourists alike.

Post-Valentine’s Day: The Morning After the Storm

The morning after Valentine’s Day arrives with a strange, almost ceremonial calm—like the day after a grand Indian wedding when the band has stopped, the fairy lights are being untangled, and someone is still trying to figure out who took home the extra laddoos. February 15 is, in many ways, the unofficial festival of what could be called- EA: Emotional Accounting.

Couples wake up and conduct silent audits. One partner wonders whether the bouquet was sufficiently Instagram-worthy. The other is mentally calculating the EMI equivalent of that candle-light dinner where the soup alone cost more than last month’s electricity bill. Meanwhile, the roses, once symbols of eternal love, now begin their slow and philosophical transformation into compost.

Gift shops, which only yesterday resembled pilgrimage centres, suddenly look like abandoned archaeological sites. Heart-shaped balloons droop with the exhaustion of overachieving interns. Teddy bears stare blankly, perhaps reflecting on the fleeting nature of human affection and seasonal discounts.

For single people, Post-Valentine’s Day brings a unique sense of victory. They stroll past sale banners with the quiet pride of survivors who successfully dodged emotional ambush and financial catastrophe. Social media, which 24 hours earlier was flooded with carefully filtered declarations of eternal devotion, now returns to its natural habitat—memes about Monday mornings and political rant.

Interestingly, the true heroes of Post-Valentine’s Day are the shopkeepers. Having sold the same heart-shaped merchandise for the fifteenth consecutive year, they now prepare for the next cultural relay race: Women’s Day, followed by Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Friendship Day, and eventually the grand tournament- Puja season, ending with the finale—Diwali.

 Relationships, too, return to their comfortable natural state. The poetic WhatsApp messages slowly give way to practical queries like, “Fridge me doodh hai?’ and “Where did you keep the TV remote?” Love, stripped of glitter and gift wrap, resumes its long-term contract with reality.

Thus, Post-Valentine’s Day is not the end of romance. It is merely its annual performance review—where expectations meet budgets, poetry meets practicality, and love quietly survives without the assistance of heart-shaped balloons.