Beeline for jeans haul

Sanjay Kundu

THE UN Mission in Bosnia and Herzegovina, located in the heart of Europe, was probably the best UN mission ever. The military component, called the Stabilisation Force (SFOR), was from NATO and police contingents were from over 50 countries. Early on, I became the Deputy Station Commander of the UN Station named Kiseljak, located 21 km from the capital Sarajevo. Often after work, we used to visit the SFOR headquarters in Sarajevo for gym, shopping in the US military canteen called Post Exchange (PX) and dinner.

I got friendly with the PX manager and used to call him to enquire about the ongoing sale. He advised me that in the run-up to Christmas, some delightful offers may be there. One morning, he phoned to say that Levi’s jeans, normally priced over $30, were going at the throwaway price of $5.25. I reached the PX and picked up about a dozen of the iconic 501s, 505s and 521s. At the checkout counter, I saw a Turkish police officer with two carts loaded with Levi’s. Mindful that Turkish officers had similar economic status as us and there must be something more than what met the eye, I asked the clerk whether there was a better deal, to which she said that as part of a super sale — from noon to 1 pm that day — all Levi’s were on sale for 25 cents.

Returning to the jeans alley, I loaded them in two large shopping carts, paid at the counter, put the stuff in my UN Toyota Nissan patrol car and returned to the station. I kept quiet and was immensely pleased with the deal that I had made, as Levi’s had always been my favourite. Around that time, India did not manufacture quality jeans, so I had to request my US-based relatives to get them whenever they visited India. I felt happy now and was already dreaming of wearing them.

Somehow, the news of my making a killing spread all over the mission. By late afternoon, I had Indian police officers coming to my station requesting for at least one Levi’s. They invoked the esprit de corps of the service. Some of my batchmates reminded me of the good times that we had spent together in Mussoorie and Hyderabad and said it would be selfish of me not to share the stuff. They sat late till night in the station, till I relented. One by one, my Levi’s disappeared. Also, they decided not to pay me the original discounted price of $5.25 and offered me 25 cents instead, which I flatly refused.

Realising that I was one cart down with the other also likely to vanish, I hid the second cartload in the station commander’s office. To the Indian police officers arriving late at night, I showed them the empty cartons and told them that they were too late as the others had already raided my place and taken away the jeans cache.