Toki

By Hantsula Kips

Toki is on the run for his life from the people who killed his father. He learns to survive in the forest and leads a life of adventure, with Sting his loyal dog. Helping his uncle, the village medicine man, he learns to love the forest. Little does he know the discovery of a jewel will lead the killers to him. The killers, searching for the source of a precious ruby, reach Toki’s last refuge, the sacred forest of Nyinyim. Desperate and scared, he has nowhere to go. He decides to fight back, not just to save himself, but to save the forest and his village. Toki commits the ultimate crime and manipulates people of two villages to do the job for him. The dense jungles and picturesque villages of Nagaland, provide the backdrop for the ultimate showdown on Phüngü Hill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hantsula Kips
• Release date: Jul 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370562954

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TOKI

By

Hantsula Kips

COPYRIGHT

TOKI Copyright © 2017 by Hantsula Kips.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For information contact : [e-mail]

Book and Cover design by Ajit Bedi

First Edition: June 2017

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Table of Contents

COPYRIGHT

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Present Day

Mokokchung - Nagaland

As he kept the letter on the table, there was sweat on the brows of Bendang Longchar. The crisp, cool air, in the hills of Mokokchung, suddenly felt constricting to the dreaded Commander of ‘KA’, the Khalang Army. Just an hour back, he had a celebratory dinner with his closest comrades. The single malt whisky had felt all the more pleasurable, for his worst enemy, Samuel, was dead, along with thirty of his loyal men and he had not even lifted a finger for it.

A few months back, he had cheated death. The court had dismissed the murder case; the only witness disappeared. Seven long years he had evaded arrest for the murder and a simple vehicle robbery had put him behind bars. The fourteen months in prison had been hell. Finally freed two days back, he displayed a much higher appreciation of freedom.

Now death was back, knocking on his door. The teenager who destroyed his archenemy, Samuel, was now threatening to kill him. He knew Samuel, his counterpart with the rival faction ‘NCN’ the National Council of Nagaland, was a tough and ruthless man. You could not ignore someone that got to him, and in just five minutes of mayhem destroyed his army.

He had killed many men, but no one’s son had ever threatened to kill him. There were more than sixty militiamen in his crew; the people called them UGs slang for soldiers of the Underground Military Organization. He picked the phone and dialed his lieutenant’s number.

Tongbang, I need you to find someone who can tell me what happened at Phüngü Hill.

Tongbang said, The villagers of Kusong and Maksha killed Samuel, along with thirty of his men. What else there is to know?

Bendang said irritably, You bring me someone that was there. I want to know exactly what happened.

Ok, I’ll get someone tomorrow. Is there anything I should know?

No. I’m just curious to know how that bastard died, and he disconnected the call.

♦♦♦

Tongbang reached Bendang’s sprawling bungalow atop the hill with a skinny young man. They entered the small office just inside the huge gate; Tongbang knocked on the door and entered Bendang’s cabin with the man.

Commander, this is Rolongse, he was at Phüngü Hill on the day of the massacre, Tongbang said, settling down on a chair opposite Bendang.

Bendang had a sleepless night, worried about the threat. Expressionless, he looked at Rolongse, and asked, Were you there?

Rolongse was nervous and a bit scared, he said in a shaky voice, Yes sir. I was there.

Bendang said, Sit down and tell me all about it.

Rolongse cleared his throat, nervously sat rigid in the chair. Then, with his eyes focused on a pen in front of Bendang, he told his tale.

He finished his story, nervously looked from Bendang to Tongbang, and said, We were forty four men and not a scratch on anyone. We killed twenty-five men, later I came to know from Pangjung they had left another three militiamen tied to the trees, to die.

Bendang looked curiously at Rolongse, and asked, Who was leading the fight for the villagers?

Rolongse shrugged. Pangjung, he’s retired from Indian Army.

What about the people behind the picture. Who decided to attack the camp? Bendang demanded.

That would be Takum, the chief of Maksha and Limatoshi the chief of my village, he replied meekly.

Bendang looked at Tongbang, and gruffly asked, But these are all old men. How would a young brat manipulate them?

Tongbang noticed Bendang’s confusion. Let me send him back, I’ll return after a few minutes and then we can talk.

He gestured Rolongse to follow him outside and walked out the door. He handed some money to Rolongse, and said, Thank you for coming to meet us. Do not tell anyone about anything we discussed. My driver will drop you at the bus station.

He returned to Bendang’s cabin. What’s on your mind?

Bendang handed him the letter. Read it.

Tongbang quickly read the letter. This is crazy. Maybe someone is trying to pull a prank.

Bendang shook his head, a sour expression on his face. No one has ever dared to mess with me. Our friends in Myanmar have confirmed Major Bandula is missing along with four of his Sergeants. I am sure this is not an idle threat, he has done his homework, he knows about my family. We have to find this bastard and…

Tongbang said, We were unable to get to him, but with Samuel and his men gone, we can do what we want.

But what if his claims are true? We can’t fight hundreds of villagers. Bendang asked in a rasping tone.

Tongbang had no retort; he had never seen Bendang so scared. His skin tingled as he thought; maybe it was time for him to get into the driving seat.

Bendang massaged his temples, and said, The two villages have sealed our fate, if others follow their lead we will soon be out of business. You know, no one in the organization gives a rat’s ass about the freedom struggle any more. All we needed was an excuse to continue taking money, and without the money we will be nothing.

CHAPTER ONE

Eight Years Ago

Mokokchung - Nagaland

The newly appointed Branch Manager, Mr. Yamakum Jangru, of the State Bank of India at Mokokchung, pressed the buzzer to call the peon.

The peon opened the door and stood just outside the cabin, reverently looking at the new big boss. Sir, can I get you anything?

Yamakum said politely, Kindly call the clerk handling customer acquisitions.

Yes, sir. That would be Mr. Vikuosa Khape. I’ll inform him immediately. He gently closed the door and headed off towards the cubicles assigned to the clerks.

Vikuosa knocked on the cabin door and entered. Sir, you called for me?

Yamakum gestured him to take a seat and slid a file across the table to him. I was just going through the records; these are the fifty top clients of our bank.

Vikuosa picked the file and opened the cover. Yes Sir, I’m familiar with all these accounts. Is there anything you would like to know?

Well, I could only find the KYC documents for thirty two of these accounts. For the remaining eighteen there are only the filled in forms, but no photographs, no address proofs…

Really? Someone must have messed them up, I’ll look into it, Vikuosa said, and stood up to leave.

Yamakum politely informed him, Meanwhile, I am restricting the accounts to credit only. If any of these account holders visits the branch, I want to meet them.

Vikuosa was visibly shaken; he wiped his forehead with his hand and left.

♦♦♦

Next morning as Yamakum was settling in, the peon knocked on his cabin door and entered, quickly closing the door behind him. Sir, you have blocked the accounts of two very dangerous men. Both of them are standing outside in the parking lot, speaking with Mr. Vikuosa. I just came to give you a heads up; these men will be coming to meet you soon.

Yamakum remained calm, at an inch over six feet he towered above most people. An amateur boxer, he was not rattled easily. Thanks for the heads up. Tell me more about these men.

The peon shifted his weight, nervously, from one foot to the other, and said, Sir, Samuel and Bendang are Militia lieutenants and enforcers of the Khalang Army. They work directly for the area commander Lipokwati Ao. These are very dangerous people.

Yamakum smiled, and said, I know about the militia. They are the operatives of local underground insurgent groups. I even know, when their agenda of an independent Nagaland became a pipe dream, their operatives got involved in all types of illegal activities akin to the Mafia of Sicily or the Chinese Triads. I know for sure these groups earn money from extortion, protection rackets and illegal taxes. Who was helping them with their accounts here?

The peon said, Sir, the previous manager cooperated. Well, everyone in the branch cooperates; no one wants to end up dead. The peon surreptitiously exited the cabin.

Yamakum noted the names on a pad and soon got engrossed in his daily routine.

Later in the day, the peon knocked on the door, and announced, Sir, these clients wanted to meet you.

Yamakum nodded and two men, both in their early thirties, rugged and dressed casually in jeans and shirts, entered his cabin. One of them turned to the peon, smiled, and said, I’ll love some tea.

Both of them extended their hands towards Yamakum, he stood, shook their hands and offered them seats. As they sat, Yamakum asked politely, How may I help you?

The taller one said, I’m Samuel Chang, this is Bendang Longchar. We have some problems accessing funds in our accounts.

Give me the account numbers, let me check what’s the issue, Yamakum offered.

Bendang opened his briefcase and handed Yamakum a bunch of passbooks. Yamakum viewed the passbooks one by one and kept them beside him. I don’t see any accounts in your names. The account holders will have to come in person to discuss their accounts. It’s company policy.

Bendang removed a pistol from the same briefcase, kept it on the table, and said, Sir, we have come a long way and we don’t have time to waste on chit chat. Remove the restrictions from these accounts and we shall be on our way.

Samuel kept a restraining hand on Bendang’s knee, and said, Sir, we are freedom fighters. The previous bank manager used to extend his cooperation. We do not want any trouble.

Yamakum calmly looked at them, his hands flat on his desk. Really, whose freedom are you fighting for?

We are helping to keep alive the nationalist movement. We have signed a peace treaty with the Government of India, we don’t have to justify ourselves to someone like you, Bendang replied.

You mean you are shoving your nationalism down people’s throats. The government has not sanctioned you to break the law. How many people give away their hard-earned money voluntarily? Oh, I forgot, you do not need to justify anything to me, Yamakum said forcefully.

Handing back the passbooks to Bendang, he said, Gentlemen, I would love to help, but none of these accounts are in your names. These accounts can only be accessed after the paperwork has been completed.

Bendang was furious, and said menacingly, Are you sure you want to mess with us?

Gentlemen, I am here to do my job. If you have a problem, there is a complaints register outside. I’ll appreciate if you would allow me to get back to my work. He dismissed them.

You will regret your decision, Samuel said, while exiting the cabin.

There was an eerie silence in the branch; Yamakum could only hear the rattling sound of a dot-matrix printer from the teller’s desk. A few seconds later Vikuosa entered his cabin. Shaking with fear, he sat down opposite Yamakum with his head hung low. Sir, why are you messing with these men? They will blow up our branch and kill us all. Let them withdraw their money and close their accounts.

Yamakum walked over to Vikuosa’s side and gently kept a hand on his shoulder. What will they gain from bombing out branch? They will be unable to access the funds for a very long time. Don’t worry, just go and do your job.

In less than an hour, Yamakum got a call from his regional manager. Don’t mess with these men. Just ignore their existence and we can all live happily. We all know what is happening, but we are bankers, not law enforcement officers.

Sir, do you know from where these people get the money to deposit in the accounts? Yamakum inquired.

No, and I don’t even want to know. These are criminals, you are a family man, just remove the restrictions from their accounts. That’s an order.

Kindly send me the order in writing and I shall carry it out, Yamakum asked politely.

I’ll do something even better. I’ll issue your transfer notice and shift you to a remote location. That would actually be a favour to your family. At least you will be alive.

Sir, you do what you have to do. I am just doing my job. These criminals don’t scare me, and he disconnected the call.

♦♦♦

Next evening, as he was leaving the bank, he saw a few young men sitting on the bonnet of his White Maruti Gypsy. As he approached, one of them got down, picked a stone and smashed its windscreen.

Why did you do that? Yamakum asked him firmly.

The other men got off the Gypsy and stood in front of him. The man who had smashed the windscreen acted like their gang leader, he stepped close to Yamakum, and said, Tomorrow I will break your head if you don’t do as you are told.

Yamakum walked around him, pulled out the lugs holding the windscreen upright, and gently pushed it flat against the bonnet. He took out an old towel from under the driver’s seat and brushed off the broken glass from the Gypsy.

Then he turned towards the gang, and said, I am sure none of you has ever done an honest day’s job in your life, else I would have made you pay for the windscreen. Now go home to your mommies. Next time I see you people hanging around; I will give you a good spanking.

The gang leader took out a knuckle-duster, stepped up to Yamakum, and tried to throw a punch at his belly. Yamakum easily caught his wrist and twisted it up behind his back. The gang leader screamed in agony. Yamakum pushed him away, and warned him, Kid you don’t know what you are doing. I suggest you run off now, like a good boy.

The gang walked off dejectedly and Yamakum took off in his Gypsy.

♦♦♦

Ever since I had turned ten, the Saturday morning hunts were our most cherished ritual. As I waited outside for dad, I saw the busted windscreen of his Gypsy. Dad stepped out carrying the bows and arrows, and I asked him, What happened to your Gypsy dad?

A look of frustration crossed his face, but he quickly smiled, and replied, It broke in the office parking probably some kids were playing there.

So we’ll stop in the town to get this fixed? I asked.

Definitely, I’m sure it won’t take too much time.

I helped him stow away our stuff and got in beside him. He was unusually quiet that morning as if his thoughts were elsewhere. I just assumed it had something to do with his job. His promotion had been a big deal and we had moved to Mokokchung from Kohima just six weeks back.

We stopped at a small garage and they replaced the windscreen.

As we drove away, I asked him, Dad, why were you arguing with the mechanic?

He was asking me to pay double the printed price, but it’s Ok, nothing to worry about.

But why did he ask for extra money? I asked innocently.

Well, son. He says that the NCN militia tax his supplier at entry to Tuli, and then KA militia charge entry tax at Mokokchung. This jacks up his cost, to above the printed price. Then the KA militia collects protection money from him, to allow his business to operate. In addition, they show up with their vehicles to get free repairs. I had no idea the situation was so bad. Anyway, these things might not continue for long.

Why dad?

Either the government or the people will put an end to the loot sooner or later. I just hope this happens in my lifetime.

But dad, why doesn’t he go to the police?

Well, now, that’s an interesting question. The militia pay a cut to the police and politicians, so they just look the other way.

We reached the forests near Lumami after an hour’s drive on the Chakabama-Mokokchung Road. A nice neighbour had recommended this stretch of forest. It was our third visit in as many weeks we were both looking forward to shooting some hares. Actually, I always thought of hares as rabbits, but dad told me, we don’t have wild rabbits in Nagaland, the hare’s don’t burrow like rabbits and are much bigger in size.

Dad was pleased with my progress in stalking and tracking the hares. I was already an excellent shot, but lacked the strength to make my arrows do any real damage. During hunts near Kohima, dad had taught me the basic skills of walking silently and sitting patiently for the prey. He told mom, I was a natural hunter and was already a better tracker than he was, maybe my eyesight was better for noticing the spoor of smaller animals.

He tied the rattan holder for his ‘Dao’ behind his back and inserted his dao in it. The ‘Dao’ is a Naga’s tool of all trades; it is a heavy thirty-Inch short sword, with blades of varying length as per its primary use, four Inch wide at the top and more than an Inch wide at the hilt.

We Nagas, use the dao for everything, from cutting through dense vegetation, cutting up a pig, cutting wood for burning, and even for gardening. I have even seen a few people use their dao to carve out spoons from bamboo.

Dad told me, Remember, the bounty of the forest is a gift for us, but we should only take what we need, never more.

Yes dad, I remember. I also remember we should only target vermin, the hares, rats and wild hogs. The other Denizens of the forest are not to be harmed, I replied enthusiastically.

As we moved deeper into the forest, I pointed out a freshly nibbled patch of wild grass, nearby fresh hare droppings were scattered. Dad pointed out the spoor and the direction the hares had taken. We followed the spoor slowly and silently and reached a clearing filled with wild grasses.

Dad gestured me to walk to the other side of the clearing and spook the hares into his direction. He squatted beside a twisted tree, I saw him nock an arrow into his bow, holding it still as a rock. His eyes followed my progress until I reached across the clearing. I started beating the ground with my feet, hollering and waving my arms to scare the animals into running away from me. I started moving towards dad, still making the din.

He had told me, the hares would not move until the last moment, as their stillness is their best camouflage. Dad patiently waited for any movement in the grass and observed the grasses bending a few feet ahead of me. He readied his bow and tracked the movement to the edge of the clearing. He let go of the arrow, just as the hare made a dash across the bald patch and hit it in the rear leg.

We immediately ran towards the injured animal and dad quickly dispatched it, with a quick twist of its neck. He instructed me to dress the furry animal. Now cut into the skin near the middle of the back and pull back the fur to both sides. Perfect, now pull it off as a glove until it is stuck in the hind feet. Now cut off the feet. On the other side, pull it until it is stuck on the head, now notch it below the jaw and cut its ears.

Then taking the skinned hare, with its short front legs it looked a lot like a dressed chicken, he showed me how to gut it. Take care not to rupture the stomach or the intestines, and pull them all out like this.

Are you going to leave the heart inside? I asked.

Yes, of course, it is the most delicious part of the hare, he replied. This is a big one, almost three kilograms after dressing. I think it is enough for us, we can return home.

He tied the hare in a clean polybag and I kept it in my game bag. We headed back towards the Gypsy.

Dad said, Replacing the windshield wasted a lot of time, we would have been back home by now.

I made a long face, and said, Yes and I’m feeling very hungry.

He laughed, You are always hungry these days. We’ll reach home in an hour, I am sure your mom will have something ready for you. We’ll stew this hare for dinner.

As we approached the Gypsy, we heard a few people talking. Dad probably identified the voices, expecting trouble he squatted beside me, and in a serious tone he told me, "It seems these