GUN POINT

“Raja, how is your health?” Dhar Babu was on the line from Kolkata.

“I am doing fine sir. I am now walking with a walking stick and feeling good!”

Just about a year earlier in 1994, I had met with a serious accident and was under treatment for multiple fractures. But with god’s grace I was on the path of recovery.

“Good! This is good news. Now that you are walking with a walking stick, I think this calls for some outing that should improve your health and help you recover fast.” Dhar Babu was preparing the background. I could understand that he was planning to send me on tour for some special purpose.

“By all means! I am ready to go anywhere.” I said cautiously holding my breath wondering where I was heading.

Dhar Babu was leading the operations of Woodcraft Products Ltd a Birla group company engaged in the business of plywood and block boards required for furniture and fixtures. He had a towering presence in the organization and a personality of a military man. Hard outside but very affectionate in the inside! I was his Vice President Marketing & Sales, the youngest VP in the company. All other colleagues were about 10-15 years older than me and were better versed in the Birla culture of the time. As a young man of 36 years, I always felt a misfit and I was trying to become a part of the team that was quite different compared to my earlier experiences at Onida, Garware & Kelvinator.

Dhar Babu continued, “Look, we are stuck with a lot of old stock in the factories that is more than 12 months old. We will not be able to get remunerative prices, but I want to liquidate it within 30 days. I want you and your Regional Heads to visit Tinsukhiya & Margarita, see the stock and arrange its movement to Mumbai & Ahemedabad. Fly down and spend one week at the factories. Segregate the stock, plan its movement and keep me posted on your actions.”

“I will! Let me plan it out and I will confirm my schedule with you and the factory managers.” I hung up the telephone, called my Regional Heads Dhanukaji & Sharmaji. We made an elaborate plan of factory visit.

For a Mumbai man, Tinsukhiya & Margarita were just names of faraway places in Assam. I had read somewhere that the Chinese Army had occupied this territory during the 1962 war. The Arunachal border was not far away from this place. Apart from the plywood factory, the area had lots of tea gardens owned by Hindustan Unilever & Tatas. I had been there before for training and also learnt the famous Padta System of costing of Birlas.

I do not remember the dates, but sometime in early 1995 we reached Tinsukhiya via Dibrugarh. The arrival lounge of the Dibrugarh airport was more like a hut. A rickety bus picked us from the landing and brought us to the arrival lounge. The same bus also carried our luggage from the baggage hold of the aircraft. There were no conveyor belts at the lounge. The luggage was simply kept at one location of the lounge and we had to go and pick it up. The factory manager had sent his car and driver at the airport to pick us.

We received a warm welcome from the factory manager. We were housed at the guest house in the factory compound. He was very keen to get rid of his old stock and we were his only hope. After fresh up we reached his cabin and started discussing the stock. In the midst of the discussion he received a call. He suddenly stood up and said, “Gentlemen, I need to meet someone urgently. Please be comfortable! I will be back in an hour.”

In the meantime, we checked the stock. It was in bad shape. Dhanukaji said it is a bad quality stock not worth selling. He had some contacts who were taking seconds quality material. But this stock would hardly fetch 50% of its declared value. Dhanukaji & Sharmaji made their notes and worked on the liquidation plan. The liquidation value of the stock was bound to bring down the factory Padta. Obviously the factory head would not look to it kindly.

The factory manager returned after an hour. His sudden disappearance was a matter of great curiosity.

“Was it something very urgent that you had to leave us so suddenly?”

“It was indeed urgent! It was a call from ULFA. They keep watch on us and they have monthly ransom demands on us. They are aware that some outsiders are here. They have people everywhere who keep them informed. I am under pressure to pay the ransom and they have given time to do so. There are cases of kidnap. We are always under fear.” The factory manager gave a feeble smile while replying. I was only vaguely aware of ULFA activity. Sitting in Mumbai, I was not even remotely concerned about it. But here was our factory head bravely facing the daily threats.

The thought of ULFA having knowledge of our visit to the factory was spine chilling. “Are we safe here?” I asked with concern and fear.

“Don’t worry! I have informed the local police station of your arrival. The police is keeping a close watch.” He said reassuringly. The next two days went in visiting stores and separating material for Mumbai and Ahmedabad. We did not venture out of the factory compound. Birla group also had one more factory of plywood at Arunachal at a place called Miyaon. The Miyaon manager learnt about our visit to Tinsukhiya and Margarita. He called us and requested to help him to liquidate some of the old stocks lying with him.

Arunachal being a border state, we required entry permit to travel to Miyaon. For the first time in my life I saw a dense forest with trees climbing to more than 100 feet. The tree cutting for plywood was highly regulated by the state government. The place Miyaon was about 100 kms away from the China border. We were at the extreme right corner of the country. The beauty of the place was pure and serene. Weather was clean. There was no trace of air and water pollution. The factory was using elephants for transporting the wooden logs. A factory with machines being supported by the jungle and elephants! The old and new ways coming together at Miyaon!

The Indian standard time was way out of place at Miyaon. At 7.00 am in the morning, we felt as if it was 11.00 am. At 4.00 pm it was as if we were in the middle of night. Our guest house was at the river bank. The water was gushing down the river with unbelievable force. The experience of having the breakfast at the riverside was out of the blue. The journey and stay at Miyaon was memorable for sheer beauty and elegance of the place. Due to my limited mobility after the accident, I was not able to go for site seeing. I could not go near the river and immerse my fingers in the water. Due to its ferocious pace and roar, the river was sprinkling water on the banks.

After the night stay and breakfast, we did the routine stock inspection. We made our notes for stock liquidation and left for Tinsukhiya. Every one of us was in an upbeat mood. In the car we were sharing the joy of being at Miyaon. The journey back was about 3 hours duration. The road was narrow and continuously turning with many hairpin bends. After an hour’s drive, we entered the plains of Assam. The landscape changed from forest and greenery to farms and villages. I was sitting in the front row with the driver while my colleagues Dhanukaji and Sharmaji were in the back seats.

Happiness and joy is short lived. This was a favorite phrase of my grandma. How would I know that I would experience it on that day? The turn of events that suddenly appeared that day were nothing short of high drama and bone chilling fear.

The road was almost empty. There was hardly any vehicle in sight for most of the time. The rout was spectacularly lackluster. I was feeling drowsy. It was a perfect point of taking the nap. I heard the honk of the incoming vehicle. I opened my drowsy eyes. An ambassador car was coming from the opposite direction. I could see some people in uniform inside. They were giving some indications to the driver. Our driver did not bother to acknowledge. He simply moved on.

“Why did you not acknowledge them?” I asked the driver.

“Babu, there is nothing to worry about! They are on a routine drive and security check. They know me very well.” The driver was calm as a cucumber. I felt relaxed. My colleagues were dozing off on the back seat blissfully unaware of the event. For me the moment of drowsiness was over. I was alert and like the driver I was concentrating on the road ahead. The next twenty minutes were spent in silence. The car was moving on the single track narrow road without any fuss.

“Look ahead! They are holding the guns on us!” I tried to shout, but the words got struck in my dry mouth. The scene ahead was extraordinarily frightening. Three men in uniform had taken positions on the floor ready to shoot at us. Their AK47 were directed at us. Two ambassador cars had blocked our road. A platoon of 10-12 men in uniforms were in ready positions to shoot at us behind the cars. Thousand thoughts entered my mind in few seconds. Finally the ULFA members were in front of us. Are they going to take us as hostage for the ransom that was pending? Where would they take us? Would I see my wife, kid and parents again? I was trembling with fear and profusely sweating. Dhanukaji and Sharmaji looked frightened.

One of them forcibly opened the door and pulled the driver out. He slapped him hard and pulled his shirt. Two other members held him tight while he was being beaten. Another fellow came and opened my door and pulled me out. My walking stick was in my hand. I tried to stand but the burly fellow hit me with the butt of his gun on my right leg. That was the leg that had serious fractures and only recently I had learnt to walk with my walking stick. I somehow became alert to the danger of being injured again. In the nick of time, I defended my right leg by fencing with my walking stick and fell down on the road. The guys were shouting at us in Assami. A young man came forward. He had a pistol in his hand.

“Can you speak in Hindi or English? I cannot understand what you are saying.” I stammered with folded hands. Dhanukaji tried to tell him that we are from Mumbai.

The young man asked for our credentials. We provided all the details. He went away. It was a matter of time when they would take us hostage. Would they increase the ransom? I imagined a newspaper report of three Birla executives taken as hostage by ULFA. The next ten minutes were full of suspense. All three of us were terror struck. The men in uniforms had surrounded us. They had guns. We had nothing. None of us dared to move an inch. We were just standing still. In that moment I realized the meaning of helplessness. I remembered my mother’s words, “when there is no one with us, god is with us.” I started praying and found that Dhanukaji and Sharmaji still had folded hands. I was sure that they were praying for rescue.

The young man came back, smiled and shook my hand. He was the Assistant Commissioner of Police (ACP). So the men in uniform were the police men and not ULFA members. He said he just verified our credentials with our factory manager at Tinsukhiya. All the other police men were laughing at us. He said that he was assuming us to be the ULFA members as he had not seen us before in the area.

“Do I look like a terrorist?” I asked with some irritation. The ACP smiled, “Terrorist do not necessarily look like typical villains that you see them in movies. Come, I will make amends to the treatment given to you. Had your driver stopped the vehicle when we asked him to do so, this situation would not have arisen. Let us have tea together.”

The ACP took us to the police station. Offered us nice hot tea and biscuits. He went one step ahead. He gave us an additional escort vehicle to drop us at the factory.

The factory manager laughed heartily and enjoyed our hardship.

The sales guys are the ones who face unforeseen circumstances and challenges. Such events help us to think on our feet and add to our wisdom. Have you ever been held at gunpoint? Well! I have faced the gun. I must tell you it is not easy to face it!

Raja Malushte

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