"Ti balligiyo ket balligimi," said ponderously by a soft-spoken old peasant as he was talking with a guerrilla of the New People's Army.   So touching was the solemn scene that took place over a cup of hot black barako, the dim light of the indigenous lampara, in a small hut in the mountains of Baggao.   From his serious wrinkled face spoke the firm class standpoint of the downtrodden toiler of the earth whose unyielding yearning is to get his legitimate right over the lands they have cleared and developed since his teens, prior to World War II, but were forcibly taken away from them by the well-connected landlords.   "Mangnamnamakami kadakayo nga armadomi," explained another old man whose two sons and a daughter are now with the people's army.