Shillong's Arbuthnot Road

 Changing Face of a Colony!

Exploring the Metamorphosis: Witness the Captivating Evolution of a Neighbourhood in 'Changing Face of a Colony' - Uncover the Intriguing Transformation!

No, this is not your typical tale about the Scottish physician and writer, John Arbuthnot. Instead, it's a story of a colony nestled in Arbuthnot Road. Once upon a time, this place was a hidden gem, boasting breathtaking natural beauty and a community of friendly and refined residents.

The snapshots captured here will surely stir the nostalgic hearts of former Shillong 

Arbuthnot Road main road

residents from Arbuthnot Road, Laitumkhrah. Those who once called this place home, owned houses, and now find themselves unable to visit due to living far away. I had always yearned to explore this neighbourhood but never got the chance until now. So, I braved the unpredictable weather - baking under the scorching sun, getting drenched in heavy monsoon showers, and briefly drying off, only to be soaked again. But I finally made it, determined to walk these colony roads and reminisce about those golden years.

Arbuthnot Road was a vibrant cosmopolitan enclave, surrounded by picteresque waterfalls, pine forests, and bamboo groves. The houses built in traditional Assam style, were a sight to behold, adorned with blooming flowers, manicured lawns, neatly trimmed hedges, and even kitchen gardens. It was a common sight to find plum, peach, orange, guava, and pear trees, along with flourishing squash plants, adorning many homes.

Steep road entrance
 to Arbuthnot colony

The house we lived in was a unique double-story RCC (reinforced concrete cement) building, perhaps the only one of its kind in a kilometer radius. It exuded elegance with its modern fixtures and offered marvellous vistas from the balconies, drawing room, dining room, bedrooms and washrooms. The washromms were spacious and stylish, which made adjusting to other places without similar ameneties quite challenging. I still recall my early school days, when I had to hold my bladder because I was reluctant to use the school washroom.

At the ground floor entrance to the staircase, there stood an abandoned electric circuit breaker unit tucked away on the right side wall. One day Dabu (Srikumar) along with another friend had come over. He asked me to call my elder brother, Sobhan. As I descended the stair, I discreetly observed Dabu opening the the metallic cover of the circuit breaker. To my surprise, both ceramic fuses were missing, replaced by a packet of Capstan cigarettes and a matchbox neatly tucked inside. I couldn't help but, marvel at my brother's ingenious hiding spot to keep his cigarette stash safe from our parent's prying eyes.

The building where
we used to stay

During weekends and holidays, if the weather permitted, my siblings, colony friends including our beloved four-legged of fur and paws, alias Ceaser, we would embark on adventures. We would explore the waterfalls, frolic in the woods, and collect unique twigs and pinecones on our way back home. Being one of the youngest and physically weaker, I was both bullied and pampered. Caesar had a habit of faithfully following me to school everyday, and convincing him to turn back became a daily challenge. One day, he follwoed me all the way to school and patiently waited until my classes were over. When our long winter vacation arrived, we often went for morning walks, sometimes as far as All India Radio (AIR), taking the solitary Jcob's Ladder route. Each of us would be bundled up in warm clothing - woollens, jackets, muflers, caps and gloves - to brave the chilly Shillong mornings. It was real fun, almost like a chapter out of one of Enid Blyton's novel.

Julie/Juri's house just
 opposite our building

Just opposite our building stood a picturesque house adorned with vibrant flowers and delicate lace curtains, accompanied by a dense bamboo grove in the backyard. I have vivid memories of Julie/Juri residing in this enchanting abode. During chilly, gusty March evenings, when doors rattled and a haunting wailing melody echoed through the air as the powerful wind swept through the towering pines and bamboo trees, an eerie atmosphere would settle. Occasionally, a pack of jackal predators lurking in the nearby woods would emerge from their dens, their howls harmonising with the mournful symphony of the wind.

Those were the days filled with laughter and endless games. Playing kings, seven stones, dodge ball, step ball, hopscotch, Cowboys & Red Indians, hide & seek, cricket, badminton, table tennis, marbles, cycling, yoyo, carom, and flying kites brought us immeasurable joy. Rainy days had their own charm as the girls would gather indoors, engaging in imaginative play with their beloved dolls and even celebrating their respective doll's birthdays in turns. If you were fortunate enough to be in their good graces, an invitation to these special occasions was guaranteed. Moreover, many of us would seize the opportunity to create paper boats and set them sailing in the puddles and streams formed by the rain.

As for the hide & seek game, the rules were simple yet exciting. The designated

The steep down colony;
Right: way to Kamari Rd

hiding area extended along the steep downhillroad of Arbuthnot colony, from Manjari/Minakshi's house to Dipankar/Neena's house. Hideouts could be cleverly chosen behind trees, hedges, and beneath the house's wooden planks, but never inside the house itself. Our furry companion, Ceasar, possessed an uncanny talent for sniffing out hiding spots and enthusiastically assisted who ever was "it" in uncovering the remaining players. It was a flurry of activity- running, sniffing, wagging tails, barking - as one by one, each person's hiding place would be revealed, often leading to cries of protest and accusations directed to Caesar for giving away the hiding spots. 

I have vivid memory of crafting a magnificient kite, adorned with an extra-long, vibrant tail. With eager anticipation I raced to the terrace alongside my mother, ready for its maiden flight. In a matter of minutes, my kite soared into the sky, and I eagerly grasped the art of controlling its movements. The sheer exhilaration coursed through me, compelling me to push its limits and ascend even higher. However, my excitement was momentarily dampened as I discovered that the thread on the other roller had depleted, leaving me unable to extend its flight. 

Without hesitation, my resourceful mother swiftly decended the stairs, retrieving two additional thread reels from her sewing machine. Skillfully, she seamlessly joined the newfound thread with the kite's string. As soon as the connection was made, my kite obediently responded, ascending with new found vigor, propelled by the gusts of wind. Suddenly, the tranquility of the moment was disrupted by the unexpected arrival of a chopper, which seemed to loom just a mere couple of feet away from the soaring creation, as if engaged in a captivating dance with a steel bird.

Frontal view of the building

By the time a second reel was added, visibility of my kite was diminishing until it was looking just like a dot and appeared close to the Air Force radder station on the hill top of Upper Shillong. After flying for a while, gradually I piloted bringing back my kite neatly by pulling the string while my mom, like a co-pilot helped in rolling the kite's thread roller. With each calculated pull, my kite obediently responded, steadily retracing its path through the vast expanse of the sky. 

The day would forever hold a special place in my heart, a testament to the joyous adventures and cherished memories created through the simple act of flying a kite.

As Christmas drew near each year, our tradition entailed venturing into the nearby woods to carefully select a petite tree, destined to become our majestic Christmas centrepiece. With great excitement, we bought it home, eager to adorn it with colourful decorations, transforming it into our grand Christmas tree. 

In the days leading up to Bohag Bihu, another cherished celebration, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. Downhill, near the enchanting waterfalls, a magnificient Meji, a towering structure made of straw, would be meticulously constructed. This impressive sight captivated us all, particularly as it stood in proximity to Neena and Dipankar's (Deep) residence, adding to the festivity.

A sense of togetherness pervaded the air as the time for the grand community feast approached. Dabu's (Srikumar) house served as the gathering place, where we shared delicious meals, laughter, and heartfelt conversations. Life during those moments was imbued with simplicity, beauty, and an intimate connection with nature, fostering a sense of clarity and authenticity in our everyday interactions.

As days melted into years, soon Meghalaya attained its statehood and Assam's

Amrit/Mona/Princess's house

capital shifted to its newly created Dispur. Arbuthnot Road colony began to witness a pal of gloom. One by one, residents made the difficult decision to part ways with their cherished homes, bidding farewell to this enchanting abode nestled among the clouds. Along with it, the locality's aristocracy, sophistication and the warm camaderie among residents began to fade rapidly, leaving behind a void that was keenly felt. For the new settlers and buyers of these beautiful bungalows who came from diverse backgrounds, it was a cultural shock for them and, at the same time, also a step up of their lifestyle. 

Today, all that have been mentioned has completely disappeared and rather become a myth. Barring a handful of houses in its original shape, the rest have been pulled down, altered and replaced by huge ugly concrete structures. The nearby woods are noway to be seen as concrete houses have mushroomed right up to the brink of the waterfalls.

Mallika/Juri's house

With the exception of a few houses on Arbuthnot Road, the focus of this write-up is primarily on Arbuthnot Colony, also know as the steep downhill road that begins off the main road and ends at Dipankar/Neena's house. Interestingly, this steep incline was infamous for trapping  four-wheelers, especially during monsoons, unless the drivers were experts with proven experience. Unfortunately, with the change of ownership of these houses, the beauty of the area has come to an end. The once spectacular bungalow belonging to Minakshi/Manjari/Kutu/Mrinal/Shyamal/Shyamali is no longer visible from the main road. Severe alterations have been made with concrete structures and it has now been connected to the building in which we used to live, thus  converting it into a school. The building has been expanded to three stories and looks extremely cluttered.

Like many other areas of Shillong, Arbuthnot Road also suffers from a significant problem of visual pollution caused by the presense of nearly three dozen overhead wires belonging to various service providers such as telephone, Internet broadband, cable TV, and more. These wires pass haphazardly, creating an unsightly and chaotic view. Adding to the eyesore are dozens of exposed water pipes along the road sides. It is disheartening to witness that the authorities responsible for addressing these issues choose to remain silent spetators instead of prioritising their solutions.

Furthermore, a word of caution to the nostalgic folks who haven't returned in a while. Shillong, unfortunately, is now burdened with overwhelming traffic congestion and hordes of hawkers taking over the city. Even the posh Laitumkhrah main road has not been spared, as unregulated street vendors and hawkers occupy the pavements and roadsides, causing inconvenience to both motorists and pedestrains alike. During peak hours of school, college, and office traffic, the situation quickly become a living nightmare, with a distance of less than a kilometre taking upwards of an hour to cover.

Dabu/Lekhu/Bhanu's house

Significantly, the building in which we resided witnessed two successive high-profile murders within a span of few years, coinciding with changes in ownership. The first tragedy involved a stunning young woman who had recently entered into wedlock, while the second victim was the son-in-law of a respected school teacher who had acquired the property. It is widely believed that the lack of a robust media presense during those times resulted in flawed investigation, granting the murders a clean slate and leaving the cases shrouded in mystery.

In stark contrast, the bungalow situated across from Minakshi/Manjari's house, distinguished by its roof spires, was once the official residence of Mallika/Jurri's father, an IPS officer. Remarkably, this dwelling still maintains its original structure, serving as a nostalgic reminder of bygone days. However, the whereabouts of Partha/Padmaja and Buku/Bulu, Shikha/Reena's house proved elusive, as its layout appeared rather perplexing, leaving me puzzled and unable to locate it with certainity. 

On the main road, right across the driveway entrance of Nelim's residence, a newly constructed Naga church stood prominently. Continuing along the same path, heading towards Assam Rifles and directly opposite our beloved Arbuthnot colony, I could easily identify Aditya Kutir, which used to be Sudhir's dwelling, as well as the stately bungalow of Osmond.

Rubul's house was just below our place. It took me long to recognise that the plot was of Baba (Rubul/Bhonti/Babul/June), although the original house was missing. Two tall pine trees which was there for years have been chopped down, and the hedges have been uprooted, making way for massive concrete boundary walls that have totally changed the contour of this colony.

When December came, Baba's birthday used to be celebrated in a grand style. Baba and Bhonti would enthral us with their lovely western dance skills. His elder brother Babul, who was pursuing medicine at that time, was a talented artist. I still remember his awesome abstract painting on the marriage gate of his eldest sister, June. Baba's domestic help, Shivlal, had helped in building a portable toy house, and we had a nice tea party inside it by setting up the unit at Amrit/Mona/Princess's open balcony on a rainy afternoon.

The skies turned dark with thick clouds all over, it was about to rain again, so I had to abort the idea of taking Kamari Road towards Rehana/Bhai/Niki's house. However, from a distance, I could make-out the bamboo groves missing and several new concrete houses have sprung up.

Just opposite Baba's house is the big cottage where Karuna/Utpala/Anuj used to stay. The original frontal structure still retains, but appeared a lot of new concrete building expansion in the back side. I still remember their friendly father, an IPS officer too, who was admired by the colony children. Perhaps, it was here where many of us got to see and feel a real pistol and rifle.

Deep/Neena/Dipika/
Leena/Meena's house

Equally, it was difficult to get a glimpse of Moni(Nivedita)/Kalyan/Bapa's house due to the high fortified concrete walls. I came to know that Moni and one of her siblings have settled in the US. Just opposite Moni's house stands the elegant bangalow of Dabu/Lekhu/Bhanu, with its original structure still intact. Although in a dilapidated state, I vividly remember how well it used to be kept. Leo, the family's German Shepard pet, had a unique trait of opening the front door's latch with his paws. The ferocious Raja used to be leashed in the back yards near the kitchen and an out house.

The last house of the colony belonged to Meena/Leena/Neena/Dipika/Dipankar, and beyond it was a serene wooded area stretching all the way to the waterfalls. However, the once-endearing charm of being the final house has faded away, as numerous concrete structures now populate the entire vicinity. Nevertheless, what feels me with nostalgia is the fact that this delightful house is still in the possession of its original owners, who have taken great care of it over the years. They have even built a two-story annexe on the empty plot, tansforming it into a cozy homestay and a spacious gymnasium.

From the ground floor entrance of Dipankar's house, a brand new motorable road has

New houses below
Dipankar/Neena's house

been constructed, cutting through the once lush forested area, providing a direct link to Kamari Road where pretty girl, Selina resided. Beyond this juncture, all that remains are concrete steps, leading up to where the waterfalls once cascaded in all its glory, As I stood before the gate, a wave of hesitation washed over me. I couldn't help but feel apprehensive. What if they didn't recognise me or, at best, gave me cold shoulder.

Anyway, I opened the iron gate, approached the door of the drawing room, and pressed the doorbell. As I waited, memories of Patch, the family's jet-black pet with his perpetually alert ears, flooded my mind. Patch had a notorious reputation for terrorising kids, and I still vividly recalled the sharp pain when he bit me on the back of my knee, necessiating a series of injections.

There was sound of footsteps, the drawing room lights lit up and the door opened. It was Dipankar-da

Dr Dipankar and his spouse

, smartly dressed in a sports wear. It just took him fraction of a second to recognize me and right away accorded a warm welcome. A physician by profession, Dr Dipankar held several plum posts in the union health ministry at New Delhi. His penchant for landscaping and interior design have only amplifided beauty of his parental home that currently stands out from the rest of the houses. All his sibblings are well placed in life. One of his sisters, Meena, a professor is settled at Mauritius while Neena too a physician has been running a nursing home in upper Assam.

After having a typical Shillong steaming cup of tea prepared by Dr Dipankar's spouse, I decided to leave as the heavy downpour by then transformed into a mild drizzle. It was getting dark, the street lights gradually lit up and I had a long way to go back to my place of stay. 

As I made my way back, I couldn't feel a mix of emotions. One hand, I was grateful for the opportunity to revisit my childhood memories and reconnect with the place that had shaped my early years. On the other hand, I couldn't shake off a tinge of sadness for the loss of the natural beauty that once defined this colony.

My leather shoes was completely wet while my clothes absolutely damp, but I did not care at all. Yes, my senses were stimulated and felt a kind of accomplishment after visiting this colony which was pending since a long time.

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NB:  In case anybody desires to add their views or thoughts, kindly feel free to use  the comment section below and I would gladly respond. Thank you!

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