Captain Samler looked around him. The military outpost at Tetuliya, though outwardly spick and span, was two-tiered. The British officers enjoyed all the trappings of conquering rulers, while the natives, impeccable in khaki and Gurkha hats, were herded in barrack dormitories, adequately nourished with bland rice and lentils, and were bullied to execute all the dirty work – from menial drudgery to ferocious fighting in the battlefield. He bore this stoically for five years and then something snapped. One moonlit evening, he broke free. Together with ten Gurkha sepoys, he raided the armoury and decamped.

The group headed for the hills, 241 kilometres north. It took them a week to arrive at an unknown spot – densely wooded and teeming with wild animals, birds and insects. This was at the start of the monsoon, so they cleared a patch and planted maize. It was to be a future food source, and would also provide another amazing use, which they were to discover in the near future.

The first batch of military police wended their way up to the maize patch when the corn was ripening. The Samler community, forewarned by their bustle, lay in wait inside the maize field. The unsuspecting troops puffed their way up to the clearing, and the very next moment, they were in full flight, as a volley of musket fire sailed over their heads. Two or three more unsuccessful sorties resulted in lowering troop morale to such an extent that Samler was left alone to pursue his own destiny.