rediff.com: The first-ever encounter with insurgent leader Sana Yaima

Day 2

And tonight the password is 'Topi'

UP at 0530 hours IST. We brush our teeth. After a quick change of clothes, we are off to another house to avoid the prying eyes of the villagers.
A meal is being prepared. All of us go down to the river for our morning ablutions, shivering in the cold. The water is ice-cold but refreshing.
At 0830 hours we have our breakfast of rice and board our "luxury coach". The Shaktiman is now stacked with hay to make us comfortable!
Within 20 minutes, the semblance of road that existed vanishes. We are now going through a river -- through a river, mind you, not by its side.
The driver is least bothered about the pebbles and rocks on the riverbed or the steep inclines that he has to climb at times. All we can do is marvel at his skill and the Shaktiman's power. The manufacturers have not correctly gauged its capacity, I tell myself.
We halt after six torturous hours. Chairen hands us over to another platoon, led by a tough but smiling corporal, Sajong.
How much longer, we ask.
"Oh, just another hour," he replies.
He could not have been more wrong in gauging our strength -- or the lack of it. It took us three-and-a-half hours to reach our destination.
But I am jumping the gun. Before we begin the steepest climb in our journey, we walk/wade through 22 streams! Our shoes in our hands, the trousers rolled up above the knee, we cross these, wincing every time we put our feet in the bitingly cold water.
At a place called Rest Point, Sajong says it is only a 30-minute climb now. It takes us another two hours.
As we puff our way up the mountain, darkness descends. The track is too narrow. Our legs keep buckling under. My old knee injury starts aching.
Halfway up, Chinglen, staff officer of UNLF headquarters, meets us with steaming coffee and biscuits. The break is welcome.
The guerrillas, for their part, are amused at our plight. For them, climbing is as easy is as falling off to sleep.
AFTER a prolonged break, we arrive on the top. There is a fire burning. The warmth is welcome and so are the moulded plastic chairs. This is a transit camp, explains Chinglen.
Another round of coffee and we start talking. We are shown the hut where we would be sleeping for the next two nights. I look around, trying to soak in the ambience.
A diesel generator is on. Boys, young men and women in jungle fatigues, all armed, are bustling about the hillock. There are several huts scattered around. And guards at all strategic points.
As we apply Iodex to our aching feet, a senior man, flanked by tough-looking guards, walks across to us. He introduces himself as acting chief of staff, UNLF, and welcomes us formally. Then he gives us the biggest news we could have hoped for.
"Our chairman will meet you tomorrow," he announces without preamble.
Those of us who know how media-shy R K Meghen alias Sana Yaima is are elated. The tough journey suddenly seems worth all the trouble. A legend, who has avoided meeting the media so far, is ready to talk to us. It would be scoop!
A quick dinner and we are all ready for bed. We sleep like logs. Before we drop off, Chinglen gives us the password for the night, just in case any of us ventures out of the hut. It is 'Topi'.
"Topi, topi," I mutter as sleep overpowers me.
Photographs: Nilayan Dutta
Follow Nitin on Day 3.
Return to Rendezvous With The Rebel
The Rediff Specials
Mail us your comments

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	Day 2 And tonight the password is 'Topi' UP at 0530 hours IST. We brush our teeth. After a quick change of clothes, we are off to another house to avoid the prying eyes of the villagers. A meal is being prepared. All of us go down to the river for our morning ablutions, shivering in the cold. The water is ice-cold but refreshing. At 0830 hours we have our breakfast of rice and board our "luxury coach". The Shaktiman is now stacked with hay to make us comfortable! Within 20 minutes, the semblance of road that existed vanishes. We are now going through a river -- through a river, mind you, not by its side. The driver is least bothered about the pebbles and rocks on the riverbed or the steep inclines that he has to climb at times. All we can do is marvel at his skill and the Shaktiman's power. The manufacturers have not correctly gauged its capacity, I tell myself. We halt after six torturous hours. Chairen hands us over to another platoon, led by a tough but smiling corporal, Sajong. How much longer, we ask. "Oh, just another hour," he replies. He could not have been more wrong in gauging our strength -- or the lack of it. It took us three-and-a-half hours to reach our destination. But I am jumping the gun. Before we begin the steepest climb in our journey, we walk/wade through 22 streams! Our shoes in our hands, the trousers rolled up above the knee, we cross these, wincing every time we put our feet in the bitingly cold water. At a place called Rest Point, Sajong says it is only a 30-minute climb now. It takes us another two hours. As we puff our way up the mountain, darkness descends. The track is too narrow. Our legs keep buckling under. My old knee injury starts aching. Halfway up, Chinglen, staff officer of UNLF headquarters, meets us with steaming coffee and biscuits. The break is welcome. The guerrillas, for their part, are amused at our plight. For them, climbing is as easy is as falling off to sleep. AFTER a prolonged break, we arrive on the top. There is a fire burning. The warmth is welcome and so are the moulded plastic chairs. This is a transit camp, explains Chinglen. Another round of coffee and we start talking. We are shown the hut where we would be sleeping for the next two nights. I look around, trying to soak in the ambience. A diesel generator is on. Boys, young men and women in jungle fatigues, all armed, are bustling about the hillock. There are several huts scattered around. And guards at all strategic points. As we apply Iodex to our aching feet, a senior man, flanked by tough-looking guards, walks across to us. He introduces himself as acting chief of staff, UNLF, and welcomes us formally. Then he gives us the biggest news we could have hoped for. "Our chairman will meet you tomorrow," he announces without preamble. Those of us who know how media-shy R K Meghen alias Sana Yaima is are elated. The tough journey suddenly seems worth all the trouble. A legend, who has avoided meeting the media so far, is ready to talk to us. It would be scoop! A quick dinner and we are all ready for bed. We sleep like logs. Before we drop off, Chinglen gives us the password for the night, just in case any of us ventures out of the hut. It is 'Topi'. "Topi, topi," I mutter as sleep overpowers me. Photographs: Nilayan Dutta Follow Nitin on Day 3. Return to Rendezvous With The Rebel The Rediff Specials Mail us your comments
HOME \| NEWS \| CRICKET \| MONEY \| SPORTS \| MOVIES \| CHAT \| BROADBAND \| TRAVEL ASTROLOGY \| NEWSLINKS \| BOOK SHOP \| MUSIC SHOP \| GIFT SHOP \| HOTEL BOOKINGS AIR/RAIL \| WEDDING \| ROMANCE \| WEATHER \| WOMEN \| E-CARDS \| EDUCATION HOMEPAGES \| FREE MESSENGER \| FREE EMAIL \| CONTESTS \| FEEDBACK