Our village council in Sohra wanted to ban the evening jam sessions near the church, said the noise disturbed the prayer hour. I told them, listen, let the musicians and the elders agree their own time—market sorted it in half an hour, no committee needed. The most vulnerable are those boys with one rusted guitar who got nowhere else to practice. My own father saved a year for that warped acoustic, and I still tune it every monsoon morning, rain or not. We don't need a new rule; we need neighbours who talk.

The new noise rules came from a committee, not from the people who actually listen to the evening jams. My neighbour's granddaughter, who sells vegetables at the Iewduh market, told me the police came twice last week—but the generator noise from the hotel two blocks away never gets a visit. I just keep my old guitar tuned to the Khasi pentatonic, and if the verandah gets too quiet, we’ll find another corner.