Dawood's Mentor

by S. Hussain Zaidi

  Leaving behind their homeland Iran, the Galadaris had migrated to Dubai in the 1960s. During their teenage years, the brothers worked odd jobs to eke out a living. In fact, Abdul Wahab started working at the British Bank of the Middle East in 1964 as a clerk. Despite the humble beginning, it was still a job in a prestigious multinational bank. The first principle he learnt was: ‘Contacts Get You Contracts’. He also developed other axioms by combining English and Arabic, such as, ‘Risk Mein Rizq Hai, meaning ‘when you take risks, you enhance your sustenance’.

  Within a couple of years, Abdul Wahab had developed a wide network of contacts, retaining his hunger for more. Wahab redefined the term ‘re-export’. The idea was to make a list of all the products that were coming to Dubai at a cheaper price from places such as the US, Japan and Europe, and which could still be forwarded onwards to third-world countries at a good margin. These products had a huge demand in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and other countries of the subcontinent where governments followed the policy of protectionism to help local businesses.

  Abdul Wahab re-exported watches, transistors, electronic goods, fabrics and other fancy items to India, Pakistan and Bangladesh through the smuggling corridor. Toshiba and Rado, music stereo systems, vinyl discs, clothes, yards of glistening polyester fabric, crystalware and porcelain were all the rage with Indians in the 1970s. But there was one item that excited Abdul Wahab the most and that was gold. The yellow metal was his favourite. But little did he know that it would lead to his eventual doom.

  In fact, Wahab was a pioneer of gold and silver smuggling from Dubai to Pakistan, and later to India, way back in 1964, even before the UAE came into existence. Galadari’s gold was legendary among jewellers, and Wahab often personally sailed with the dhow that carried the smuggled gold to Karachi and Bombay. Wahab was extremely smart and realized early on that the international markets wanted silver, which was used in many industries, including films. So he brought the metal to the gold-obsessed countries of India and Pakistan, and took away silver from these countries to sell to the Western powers for a huge profit. In India, he and his brothers were wanted men, as the DRI, India’s premier anti-smuggling enforcement agency had issued a lookout notice for them.

  Actually, the Galadari brothers were lucky that they lived in a part of the world that was open to trading relations with other countries. And they were fortunate that a series of political alignments happened at the right time. Dubai was still in its infancy, with the Trucial States having won their freedom from British administration in 1971. The UAE, a union of states, was born in 1971 after six states, including Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Sharjah, Ajman, Umm Al Quwain and Fujairah, had formed a union. After Iran annexed the islands of Tunbs and BuMusa, Ras al-Khaimah too became insecure and joined the group of states, making them a group of seven, in February 1972.

  Dubai had discovered oil just six years prior to these developments, in 1966. In fact, till 1973, it did not even have its own currency. The people were using the Qatari rial for monetary transactions, with the Dubai dirham being introduced only in 1973. At the time, the population of Dubai was not even 200,000 people, excluding the expatriates. Any business in Dubai was an inevitable success because the place was a tax haven. In 1970s Dubai, there were two groups of taajirs, or traders. There were the business tycoons who had come from Iran. And then there were the local Arab traders with shops in the souk, called the Watnis, the locals. Both the Arab and Pakistani businessmen believed smuggling was permissible. In fact, the word ‘smuggling’ is absent in the Arabic lexicon.

  The Galadaris were very rich, and when Khalid approached them, they were one of the handful of families with access to the ruler Sheikh Rashid bin Saeed Al Maktoum. The Maktoums, in those days, were accessible to their subjects and had not yet developed the arrogance of the subsequent generations. The local Arabs, who were referred to as Watnis, derivative of the word watan, which, in the Indian context, could be interpreted as ‘sons of the soil’, hated the guts of the Galadaris, who they thought were outsiders and, like all Iranians, had a penchant for dominating their peers. The surprising part was that unlike the bigoted Arabs, the businessmen of the erstwhile era spoke fluent Urdu, a language that both Indians and Pakistanis can follow clearly. The Galadaris had completed their initial schooling from Karachi’s St Patrick’s High School, which is why they were fluent in Urdu as well in addition to their expertise in Arabic, Persian and English.

  Khalid spoke with enthusiasm but did not overdo his pitch. The Galadaris were impressed with this young twenty-four-year-old man from India. Abdul Wahab felt he had a lot of promise.

  Until then, the Galadaris had been dealing with a cartel of well-known Pakistani smugglers, including Haji Ashraf. These smugglers had monopolized the gold market in Dubai and the Indians were left with negligible representation. ‘With your help, Pakistani businessmen have minted money so much so that they boast of gold doors and silver walls. All I am asking for is one chance to prove myself,’ Khalid had said with the utmost earnestness in his voice.

  Khalid’s proposal was that all the future gold that Wahab and his brothers would smuggle to India would be through Khalid. That he would have the sole, exclusive right to Galadari’s gold in Bombay. Wahab looked at his brothers Latif and Rahim, who both shrugged, indicating they needed to tread with caution; they could not afford to be reckless.

  ‘How will you bypass the government? Even we could not do it and landed up on their wanted list,’ Wahab said, trying to penetrate Khalid’s defences.

  Khalid rose from the sofa. He looked imposing, towering at 6 feet 2 inches. He wanted to add emphasis to what he was about to say. ‘It is the government’s job to be strict as they have to run the administration. But we have our own skills. Hum bhooke sher ke moonh se gosht ka tukda nikal lete hain (We have been known to steal a piece of flesh from the jaws of a hungry tiger),’ Khalid said with aplomb, accentuating every single word in Urdu.

  Wahab smiled, repeating every word, full of admiration for Khalid’s chutzpah.

  This dramatic line clinched the deal for Khalid. Wahab made his decision. He was always a risk-taker. He decided to stake his money on Khalid.

  Wahab believed an alliance with Khalid for smuggling gold could work. He also convinced his brothers Rahim and Latif about the same. They shook hands, sealing a long-lasting partnership.

  It has been forty-five years since Khalid’s first meeting with Abdul Wahab, but he still remembers every single—though seemingly insignificant—detail. He cherishes the cordiality of the Galadari brothers in that first encounter, despite the fact that he was a rank newcomer. They eventually went on to establish a very strong bond that changed the fortunes for the Galadaris and Khalid and, later, Dawood Ibrahim.

  But back then, when Khalid stepped out of their palatial beachside villa, he could not believe his good fortune. He had managed to swing the deal. Khalid had learnt from experience that if something was meant to happen, it would happen, come what may. And if things didn’t happen smoothly and the path seemed littered with obstacles, then it was never meant to be. He felt the meeting with the Galadari brothers was a good omen.

  When he had landed in Dubai, Khalid was given the impression that the Galadari brothers were the Big Daddies of Dubai when it came to gold smuggling and that the local Watnis were not happy with their clout and popularity. He was not at all sure whether he would even manage to gain an audience with them, let alone walk away with a lucrative smuggling deal.

  Khalid, of course, was not aware that it was Abdul Wahab who had won the round. In one of his dhow trips to the Bombay coast, he got arrested by DRI sleuths. However, he had managed to secure bail from the court and escaped to Dubai. The DRI could not believe that Abdul Wahab had hoodwinked them and slipped away so easily. He was declared wanted in India. Subsequently, both his brothers too were declared proclaimed offenders by the Indian government.

  After the lookout notice was issued for Abdul Wahab, he was in search of somebody reliable for
his gold-smuggling operations in India, when Khalid landed at his doorstep. With Khalid monitoring the whole operation from the Dubai coast to Bombay’s landing spots, Abdul Wahab was sure to have a huge load lifted off his shoulders. The trust factor was not an issue at all. As the saying goes in the Mumbai mafia, ‘Beimani ke saare dhande imaandaari se hote hain (All dishonest businesses are executed with the utmost honesty).’

  After concluding the meeting, Khalid did not stay back in Dubai for any sightseeing, despite it being his first trip abroad. Instead, he rushed back home to execute his smuggling plans.

  When he landed in India, he rushed to Teli Mohalla and narrated the whole story to Bashu. ‘And that is how I clinched the deal. Now we will be numero uno in the smuggling business.’

  Bashu did not react but gave him an enigmatic smile.

  The windfall happened in a very short span of time. Khalid handled a couple of gold consignments and, lo and behold, Bashu and Khalid’s coffers were overflowing. And the Bashu gang suddenly catapulted to the top of the mafia hierarchy. Haji Mastan and Yusuf Patel of Bombay, Sukur Narayan Bakhia of Gujarat and other big smugglers were shocked by the sudden success of the Bashu–Khalid gang.

  In fact, according to a retired customs officer, Khalid was the first bona fide smuggler with properly monitored operations, which he supervised from coast to coast and vessel to vessel. Every step of the way—right from the Dubai port to the steamer in international waters, to the fishermen’s boat and all the way to Bombay Harbour—was meticulously planned and executed. In the process all the other smugglers and rivals became reduced to landing agents. Everyone wished for a deputy like Khalid, who could take their business to the next level.

  Khalid himself was on cloud nine. Not only was the gold smuggling happening smoothly, the financial transactions overseas as well as with the local Marwari businessmen and jewellers were also all happening without any hiccups.

  The only bump in the road came from unexpected quarters. His boss, Bashu, who should have been celebrating their success and rewarding him for being an asset, was behaving in a mystifying manner. Khalid could not understand Bashu’s annoyance with him. Lately, Bashu had also started shunning his company. He became fretful and their relations seemed to sour.

  The truth was that Bashu was burning with jealousy and this had crippled his mind. He failed to appreciate his best asset and instead was beset with insecurities. His main apprehension was that Khalid would eventually topple him and take over his gang. He began to plan Khalid’s downfall, or, as the mafia chroniclers would surmise, his own.

  12

  Forging a Bond

  Rashid Taxi was running for his life. Pushing and shoving the passers-by, colliding with bicycle riders and oncoming scooters. He was trying to get away from Khalid, who was looming large over him like an angel of death. But Rashid was scrawny and lean, he could run faster. Khalid was heavier and had to strain harder to continue running behind Rashid.

  Khalid had spotted Rashid near Chowki Mohalla. His first instinct was to rush towards him on a motorbike, but a quick glance at Maulana Shaukat Ali Road—one of the most congested roads in the south Mumbai area, leading from V.P. Road to Dongri—told him the plan would be futile. Khalid decided his feet would carry him faster than any vehicle. He signalled to his boys to accompany him. ‘We have to confront Rashid today,’ he announced even as he picked up speed.

  People stared, wide-eyed, at the chase. Khalid and his two boys were pushing, jumping and sometimes leaping because the road was always chock-a-block with obstacles. Too many people, too many footpath kiosks, too many hawkers, too many vehicles parked illegally on the roads, too many handcarts and too many honking vehicles—all in all, a picture of perpetual chaos. Both Khalid and Rashid were familiar faces in the area, so the locals who recognized them simply made themselves scarce in awe and fear, dreading major violence. They did not want to be caught in the crosshairs of this high-octane action. Some shop owners had hastily downed their shutters, lest one of the participants enter the shop and inadvertently cause irrevocable financial loss.

  At one point of time, Khalid felt that Rashid was slipping away—he didn’t even want to imagine the repercussions of such a possibility. His name would be dragged through the mud and Rashid would become emboldened enough to cock a snook at him. The chase ending successfully was very important for Khalid. He not only wanted to discipline Rashid but also terminate the possibility of any more Rashids rearing their ugly heads and threatening Bashu in the future.

  Bashu’s arrogance had spawned a legion of detractors in the area. His financial growth and Khalid’s increasing clout had become a headache for several people in the neighbourhood. Bashu expected everyone to pay obeisance to him. If anybody failed to be subservient, the poor fellow was a marked man. One of them was a Muslim League member of the Legislative Assembly called Ziauddin Bukhari, a political leader with considerable influence. When Bukhari refused to do Bashu’s bidding, the haughty ganglord engineered his defeat in the subsequent elections. One diktat from Bashu was enough to frighten people into doing his bidding. No, it was not respect that Bashu garnered, but fear. Bashu fed off people’s fear and grew more powerful.

  A Sufi saint by the name of Nirale Shah Baba was highly venerated among the Muslims of the area. This was an era when Wahabism had yet to take root among the Muslims of Dongri and Sufi saints were not taboo. Nirale Shah sat outside the Makhdoomiya Bakery across the road from Teli Mohalla. His presence attracted a sizeable crowd of devotees, a fact that angered Bashu. Nobody else in his fiefdom was allowed to attract a fan following larger than his—most definitely not a maverick old man with no money. He felt the Baba had the potential to dilute his power centre. Bashu’s men often chided the baba for the milling crowds. They also asked him to meet with Bashu. But Nirale Shah Baba did not pay any heed to them as he felt it was beneath his dignity to kowtow to a local strongman.

  Bashu finally sent a couple of toughies to Nirale Shah’s maghrib (evening) prayer gatherings to rough up the devotees and shoo them away. The dispersed followers were hurt and humiliated, but who could argue with goons.

  Finally, one fine day, Ziauddin Bukhari, along with Nirale Shah’s devotees, cobbled together a convenient alliance to put the fear of God into Bashu. They held clandestine meetings in the area, and sometimes even in a different area, so that Bashu and Khalid did not get a whiff of their plans.

  After the secret brainstorming sessions, the consensus was that only a parallel force equally driven and strong, could outwit Bashu and undermine his growing power. The anti-Bashu coterie assembled a ragtag band of young men and formed an anjuman (a group) and called themselves the ‘Young Company’. Bukhari, in a clever, strategic move, also roped in Ibrahim Havildar and convinced him to give his blessings to their organization. However, Ibrahim Havildar was shrewdly kept in the dark about the real motive for the creation of this band of youths. He was persuaded to help with the ostensible purpose of constructively channelizing the energies of the wayward youths of Dongri. (The formation, strategic plans and eventual degeneration of the Young Company into a criminal cartel has been elaborated in Dongri to Dubai.)

  Rashid Khan was popularly known as Rashid Taxi as he owned a fleet of black-and-yellow taxis. The mafia identifies people with the same name by adding a sobriquet to distinguish one from the rest. Rashid Taxi had a history with Bashu. He had initially started off as a Bashu acolyte but left bitterly after being mistreated.

  When those opposing Bashu formed the Young Company, they anointed Rashid at the helm. Rashid, in his new-found status, perceived himself to be the director of the Young Company. He became exactly what he hated about Bashu. He began flexing his muscles, behaving insolently in the area, at times slapping Bashu’s men at the slightest pretext or even abusing Bashu in public, behind his back, of course. Both Bashu and Khalid were reluctant to directly take on the Young Company as Ibrahim Bhai was involved. Ibrahim Havildar had connections in the police. It would have meant an ope
n declaration of war in the area. Khalid had also genuinely liked Ibrahim Havildar and was not ready to do anything to offend him.

  The discreet way of taking on the burgeoning role of the Young Company was by confronting Rashid and warning him off. Khalid, being Bashu’s enforcer, called Rashid a couple of times through an emissary. But Rashid not only shrugged them off but also slapped and abused the messengers every time he was summoned. He told them, ‘I don’t have to submit to Bashu and his commands.’

  For Khalid, it was a direct challenge. He finally decided to discipline Rashid in his own way. There is a proverb in the mafia circles, ‘Pehelwan khopdi, puri chokdi (A wrestler’s brain only wants to wreck completely).’ He alerted his men and posted a couple of boys at the end of Teli Mohalla; if they spotted Rashid passing by that route, they were to alert him immediately.

  That evening in the summer of 1973, Khalid’s boys told him about Rashid’s presence in the area. Khalid swung into action immediately. Two of those boys who were earlier beaten by Rashid also joined the chase. They knew that Khalid not only wanted to shatter Rashid’s pride but also his bones. They were also itching to avenge their own humiliation at Rashid’s hands.

  After chasing Rashid for half a kilometre, Khalid, a heavyset man, had begun to pant, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. It was too much work for one day. Khalid feared that he would lose Rashid as the latter had begun to gain ground. This is exactly what Khalid was afraid of—that Rashid would disappear from sight and melt into the crowd. This was Khalid’s final chance. If he lost Rashid today, he was afraid Rashid would become more alert thereafter and become as elusive as an eel. He would also mock him behind his back and, worse, Khalid would face embarrassment in front of his boss, Bashu.