On the way up to Dhamkane from the district headquarter at Martadi, we met a cheerful 12-year-old boy on the trail. He approached us and asked “Sir, would you like to buy apples?” How much, we asked. He said ten apples would cost Rs 25. “I want to buy a pair of shoes from the money I earn selling apples,” he said.

Two days later, on the way back from Kolti we were on the steep trail up to Pandusen on the way towards Angapani when we met the same boy again. We asked if he had bought his shoes. He looked a bit shy, and said he couldn’t because the money from selling apples wasn’t enough. “I have bought salt, though,” he said smiling. “And one day I’ll surely have enough to buy shoes.” He scampered on ahead.

What the boy didn’t know was that bad news awaited him in the village. His father, Ramlal Damai, had been shot by the security forces a day earlier, and had just died of his wounds. When we reached the boy’s house, his father’s body was being carried out into the porch. Ramlal’s wife and an eight-year-old child were crying in front of the house. There was not a dry eye among the neighbours who had gathered there.

Ramlal had been injured by a bullet in his head, and villagers carried him from Angapani to his house, half an hour down the road, thinking he could still be saved. Six other villagers were also killed: Surya Raut, Tula Raut, Nara Bahadur Bohara, Chandu Bohara, Rup Damai and Kashi Sarki.

A unit of the army and police had left Martadi on the evening of 28 October on patrol. When they reached Angapani just after dawn the next monring, they saw a light inside Hari Krishna Raut’s house and muffled voices from inside. They immediately cordoned off the house, and asked those inside to open up.

The seven people inside had just finished harvesting millet the previous day, and had been playing cards all night. Villagers think they may have suspected the people outside to be local Maoists, who have banned drinking and gambling. So they turned the lights off and kept quiet. This made the security personnel even more suspicious.

When the villagers did not respond even after the second order to open the door, the troops broke it down, stormed in commando style and shot everyone. Six of them died on the spot, Ramlal succumbed to his injuries just two hours before we arrived on the scene, following his son.

The troops left. The villagers who had been cowering in their homes came out and were horrified by the carnage. They decided not to touch the bodies and sent some among them to Martadi to register the deaths at the district administration office of Bajura.
In Dhamkane they heard news over Radio Nepal that seven “terrorists” had been killed at Pandusen. Fearing that the local administration could harass them for being Maoists too, they decided not to go to Martadi and turned back to the village to cremate their dead and console the families.

Bir Bahadur is a neighbour of the dead, and is weeping openly when we reach the village. “Where is the justice,” he asks. “How can you kill innocent people in this way?” Ironically, three of the dead (Tulka Raut, Nara Bahadur Bohara and Chandu Bohara) were members of the “Kaal Sena”, an anti-Maoist resistance group that the villagers had formed after they couldn’t bear harassment by the Maoist militia anymore.

Several times in the past months, they had driven away Maoist rebels from the village. Even the government media had highlighted their activities as the promising start of a popular uprising against the rebels.

According to villagers we interviewed, the troops seemed to be certain they had killed Maoists and didn’t stay around to verify. They were looking for more Maoists and went down the trail from Pandusen and asked Dabal Bahadur Kadayat, who runs a small tea shop at Chapharukh, “Where is Padam Bahadur Shahi?” When he said he didn’t know, they beat him up.

They found Padam Bahadur harvesting paddy in the field together with his family members. They took him away. Padam Bahadur was recently released on bail after being detained for three months on the charge of delivering letters to Maoists. Some half a dozen people, including Padam’s father and his wife carrying a three-year-old son followed the troops, fearing something ominous.

They could see the security people beating Padam up badly. They finally shot him dead at a place called Kandha and left his badly mangled body on the trail. Padam’s father couldn’t bear to look at his son’s mutilated face, and even 24 hours later, he can’t talk about it. Padam’s mother is inconsolable. “Maybe he’d still be alive if he had joined the Maoists,” she says, weeping uncontrollably.
All the VDCs to the northeast of the district headquarter, Martadi, are no-go areas. You can see Maoist flags flying on trees. The cadre walk around freely and force villagers to donate money or food for the revolution. “The Maoists loot us, the government kills us, we are trapped in the middle,” says Padam Bahadur’s father.

There is fear, panic and paranoia in this scenic little village. This year’s harvests failed, there is a food shortage, but Julfe Sarki is sowing wheat seeds hoping that winter rain will at least give him one crop. When he saw us approaching he ran into his house and shut himself up. When we introduced ourselves, he came out hesitantly and said: “These are bad times. Look at me, I was afraid of you gentlemen and ran away! No one trusts anyone anymore…”

After talking to villagers, we counted 60 villagers who have been killed just along the one-day trek from Martadi to Kolti in the past year alone. Most of them have been killed by Maoists: murdered for opposing their orders, refusing to pay tax, or children killed by explosives they have left behind. Some have been found weeks later, hands tied behind their backs and shot.

A 76-year-old villager, known by his nickname Dahi Baje told us: “We spent a lifetime in quiet happiness, but our descendants are doomed.” The incident in Pandusen has generated distrust among local people against the military and police not only in Bajura but also in the neighbouring district of Achham.

The locals understand that the security forces made a mistake, but so far it looks like the army and police do not want to admit it. And until they do, the families of those killed will be regarded as relatives of “terrorists”.