28 thousand . . .

I had met, rather seen, Ka Bochi (Bochi uncle) only on two separate occasions. I was eight when I first saw him. My mother told he was a friend of my cousin’s from Moirang. When we came back from school in the morning, mother and father were getting ready for office. “Don’t talk to them. You’ll be disturbing them. They are your uncles”, mother had told.

During the day Ka Bochi kept on making calls from our phone, at the hallway. The three of them kept on discussing on something. Finally, my sister couldn’t resist entering the room they were put up at. It was our TV/living-room after all.

They had set up a temp master-bed out of the thick blankets and the pillows provided to them, comfortable enough for the three of them. My grandmother was a kind lady and an overtly traditional host. She had arranged for a boy from the locality to catch some fishes from our pond. To her, meals had to be elaborate for the guests! We overheard her talking to the fisher-boy. “They are fighting for our motherland. God knows when the last time was they had a proper meal.”

The last time any relatives or guests had come to our house, they were not given a grand welcome or meals even half as good as this. When they were relishing on the fine dishes grandmother had prepared, Ka Bochi kept on smiling at us. And then, before we knew it, we were talking to them. “Do you know Lolita?” They seemed confused. “Who?” Ka Bochi had asked in his usual calm manner. They were supposed to know our cousin Lolita if they were a friend of our cousins.
Grandmother kept on telling that Ka Bochi was such a fine natured person- “They are so brave. Don’t you love them?”
Later when mother and father had returned from office, we started our side of the story. “But Ka Bochi doesn’t know Lolita! Whose friend is he?” Even before they could reply anything my sister continued, “They have kept guns and bullets under the pillows … in our TV room.” I was intrigued, “they are not guns; they are revolvers silly!” Those eye balls in my mother’s eyes were never that aghast as she turned towards my father. “I told you not to let them stay”. My father looked frustrated. “Do I have a choice here? What can we do if our house is in the sub-urban? We must look wealthy from outside!” They hushed us as they would be in the kitchen anytime soon for dinner.

When we got up in the morning, they had all left. My mother had cleverly re-arranged the pillows and the blankets given to them. “No traces are to be left”, my father told her.

The second time I saw Ka Bochi was six years later. He was a changed man. The plump and contented Ka Bochi of the yesteryears had turned into a thin, bearded and a really unhygienic looking man. Situations were definitely different for him. The situations he was meeting our family was certainly different. We saw him negotiating with my father. They needed cash and a vehicle if possible. They had to deliver certain important “documents” as soon as possible. I saw Ka Bochi going into our hallway and making those familiar phone calls. The other accomplice who came along with Ka Bochi was not really a nice man. He pointed a revolver at my father’s chest as the negotiations grew grim. Grandmother collapsed and we had to attend to her. My sister cried. My mother went hysterical in tears, “Please brother, even we have children to feed.” Ka Bochi didn’t say or do anything. I suppose that was the best he could do for us after all the good treatment grandmother had given to him and his friends.
I saw my parents running in a frenzied manner to arrange for some cash. My mother even took out the gold earrings she used to wear at home. My parents could give them a reduced amount of what they had demanded for, to which they finally agreed. The vehicle my parents used to commute was far too outdated for their operations. “There are no people in the neighborhood who wants to give up their vehicle”, my father declared.
The last time I heard of him was rather abrupt. It was just one day after they had come to ask for cash from us. My parents had just returned from office when news came. Ka Bochi had been caught by the commandos.
My father rushed into the hall, disconnected the phone and crashed it into the locker beneath the stairs. We were told to shut out all the lights in the rooms and not make any noises. We stayed in the kitchen. We were given food, only the two of us. They didn’t eat.

Ka Bochi belonged to a group of a few priced men who were part of a rudimentary outfit party. Their group was one of the most active, principled and most respected when they had started off years back. Ka Bochi was one of the best men they were left with.

It was already night and people in my house were still very frightened. I had turned on the TV and they gave the details in the news. The commandos had been behind him from quite a long time now. Ka Bochi was on a bicycle (unable to arrange for any other vehicles) when they shot him in an ‘encounter’. They had recovered certain ‘important documents’ pertaining to his party, a revolver and cash worth of twenty-eight thousand from him!