He looked around the room wonderingly, and then at the suitcase on the bed. He slid it below the bed. Then he opened the door, peeped out and seeing the empty corridor, he walked out and closed the door. Like the others, he took a taxi back to Mahim. It was 12.05 p.m.
Some time before noon, the blue Commander jeep left Al-Hussaini and sped towards the city centre. The jeep, one of those used by Tiger for smuggling, had a huge cavity under the floorboards. This time the cavity contained some twenty-five kilograms of RDX. The driver was Abdul Gani Turk. He was supposed to park the jeep outside the RPO at Worli.
Traffic was thin, and the journey did not take too long. He reached the area shortly after noon and slowed down to find a parking space such that the explosion would cause maximum damage. But all the parking spaces near and around the office were taken. He had two alternatives: either to double-park the jeep in front of the office and run the risk of the vehicle being towed away by the traffic police, or to leave the jeep on the other side of the road, facing the RPO. There was a space in front of a wine shop in the opposite side, and he just about managed to fit the jeep into it. He locked the doors and left the jeep. The fifth bomb was in place.
The moment Gani left the jeep, he started feeling queasy. He managed to find a taxi, and headed for Bhendi Bazaar. It was 12.30 p.m.; he thought that with luck he could still attend Friday prayers in town.
When Gani was struggling for parking space for his jeep, an official-looking white Ambassador with an uniformed chauffeur, Farooq Pawle, had left Mahim for Nariman Point, the heart of the city’s business district. His destination was the Air-India building. It took him some thirty-five minutes to negotiate the heavy traffic.
Finding a parking space for the Ambassador at the Air-India building proved to be easy. As the Ambassador was still considered the official car used by bureaucrats and politicians, the security guard at the building let the car through when it entered the narrow passageway beneath the huge skyscraper. Pawle drove down the passageway and parked the car outside the rear exit of the Bank of Oman on the ground floor. The sixth bomb was planted.
As he left the compound and walked down the pavement, he saw a blue Maruti 800 drive by, with Irafan Chougule at the wheel, and Tainur, dressed in an impressive three-piece suit, seated next to him.
As they drove past Mantralaya, Tainur looked at the drab building. ‘If Chikna is planning to storm the BMC, then why not Mantralaya? After all, this houses bigger bastards.’
‘Your wish will soon be fulfilled. Chikna plans to come after them here once he finishes those at the BMC,’ Irfan replied.
The car sped towards the BSE. It was 12.50 p.m.
Outside the building, Tainur stepped out of the car and seemed to mutter instructions to his ‘driver’ Irfan, who nodded in reply. Irfan went down the street, looking for a place to park. Dalal Street is one of the most densely populated areas in the city, and even if Irfan had been riding a bicycle he would have found it difficult to park. They had discussed the problem of traffic when the group was planning the bombings but they had never realized that parking would be such a problem.
Irfan knew that the stock market was one of their main targets; they could not skip this. He took a U-turn and let the car crawl again towards the gate of the BSE.
Tainur, who was standing at the gate, realized that Irfan had not found a parking space. He saw a Hindustan Contessa leaving the car park in the basement of the BSE, and frantically waved to Irfan to bring the car in. As Irfan drove in, the security guard who had not seen Tainur waving, signalled the former to a halt. Seeing this, Tainur rushed towards the guard.
Tainur
Irfan, a hot-tempered man, had already got into an argument with the guard. Coming up to them, Tainur began talking to the guard in Gujarati, the language associated with the wealthiest players on the market. Impressed, the guard allowed the car to drive into the basement car park. Irfan parked the car in bay 64, and he and Tainur quietly left the area.
Pawle reached Al-Hussaini by 1.15 p.m. and set out for his second assignment, for which he had asked Badshah Khan to accompany him. They had to park a white Maruti 800 car outside Sena Bhavan. Badshah chose to drive. When they reached their destination, Badshah wanted to park just outside the fortress-like building, but a traffic policeman threatened to challan them. As Pawle got into an argument with the policeman, Badshah suggested that they park at Lucky Petrol Pump, adjacent to Sena Bhavan, which was what he had proposed during the planning. An explosion at the petrol pump would inevitably cause havoc in Sena Bhavan.
But they ran into trouble at the petrol pump as well. The attendants told them that they could not park unless the car was going to be serviced. Pawle was getting into another altercation, when Badshah decided to drive towards the Mohammed Ali building, next to Sena Bhavan. Badshah asked Pawle to get a taxi, while he parked the car. He parked towards the far end of the petrol pump, as close as possible to Sena Bhavan, locked the car and jogged towards the taxi in which Pawle was waiting. They set off for Mahim. The eighth bomb had been set in place.
Asgar Mukadam, Tiger’s business manager, was asked to accompany Shahnawaz Qureishi to park a Maruti 800 outside Plaza Cinema. Asgar was reluctant, but had to agree when Chikna insisted. He got behind the wheel sulkily.
‘Where should we park?’ Shahnawaz tried to strike up a conversation.
‘Your call. I am here only to give you company,’ Asgar replied tersely.
They were silent after that. It was past noon, and the matinee show of the Nana Patekar-Raaj Kumar film Tiranga had begun. There was plenty of space in the streets and lanes around the Plaza. Asgar managed to park just outside the cinema hall, within the compound, but a watchman came running and asked them to move the car.
Shahnawaz started getting aggressive, but Asgar tried to reason out with the watchman. ‘We are already late for the show. If we miss out on Nana Patekar’s dialogues, then what is the point in watching the movie?’ There was some argument and exchange of expletive, but in the end they left the car almost touching the western wall of the building. They strolled out of the cinema premises when the watchman was not looking, and took a cab to Mahim: Shahnawaz to report to Chikna and Asgar to go home.
Mushtaq, Theba and Parvez Shaikh returned from their assignments and reported to Chikna that the hotel bombs were in place. Chikna instructed Mushtaq and Imtiyaz to take a scooter each to Dhanji Street and park them in the vicinity of Zaveri Bazaar. He told them that Shoaib Ghansare would be planting another bomb at the other end of Zaveri Bazaar, in Shaikh Memon Street. The idea was to inflict maximum damage on the gold market.
‘Haan bhai, then what?’ Mushtaq asked.
‘You can both go underground after that,’ Chikna told them in an obliging tone. Mushtaq and Imtiyaz left around 1 p.m.
When Shahnawaz reached Tiger’s fifth-floor flat, it was almost 1 p.m. Chikna and Parvez were talking in muted tones. As Shahnawaz waited, Parvez ended the conversation abruptly and left with his customary ‘khuda hafiz’.
Parvez was assigned the task of parking a scooter in any of the big markets in the Masjid Bunder area, in such a location that some prominent wholesalers would be affected. Riding very fast, Parvez soon reached the incredibly congested streets of Masjid Bunder. Afternoon was generally the worst time to visit this area. Looking around, he decided to make his way to Katha Bazaar, which seemed relatively easier to enter.
With much effort and argument, Parvez managed to enter the market but soon realized that he would not be able to go far in the bumper-to-bumper traffic. He switched off the engine and dragged the scooter along the pavement until he felt he could pull it no further. He could see no place where he could park, and he began to regret that he had accepted this problematic assignment.
He spotted a small public telephone booth just opposite the Matruchhaya building. The attendant had gone out for lunch and the kiosk was closed. Parvez parked the scooter next to it, took a quick look around, and rushed towards the Masjid B
under railway station from where he planned to catch a harbour line train to Mahim. The tenth bomb was placed. It was almost 1.30 p.m. and the first bomb was about to go off.
Meanwhile, Mushtaq and Imtiyaz had set out on two scooters for Dhanji Street, at the northern end of Zaveri Bazaar. As Mushtaq rode over the Princess Street flyover, he could see a massive traffic jam ahead. From the conversations of people around them, he gathered that the bomb had exploded at the BSE. This increased his desire to finish his assignment and get underground as soon as possible. He rode to Dhanji Street and, locating an empty space in front of DP Jewellers, parked the scooter there. The people around the shop objected, but he said that he was merely going for the Friday namaaz and would return soon. As Mushtaq pulled his scooter onto its stand, he could see Imtiyaz parking a short distance away.
The duo parked their scooters and walked away. The time was 2.15 p.m. Mushtaq went back to his house at nearby Mohammed Ali Road, while Imtiyaz left for Mahim.
Within minutes of Mushtaq and Imtiyaz entering Dhanji Street, Shoaib Ghansare reached Shaikh Memon Street. He parked his scooter at the junction of Shaikh Memon Street and Mirza Street, at the southern end of Zaveri Bazaar. This was the target where the maximum number of bombs—three—were planted, and at both ends of the area. The thirteenth bomb was in place at about 2.15 p.m. too. Locking the two-wheeler, Shoaib left for home.
At Al-Hussaini, the morning frenzy was over. Chikna summoned his remaining men. ‘All that remains are the frontal assaults. We have to throw grenades at two places: Macchimar Colony at Mahim and the airport. And we have to storm into two buildings: the BMC headquarters and Mantralaya.’
He assigned Iqbal and Nasim to throw the grenades at the airport. He asked them to take a bike and gave them four grenades each. Tainur, Moin, Zakir, Firoz, Bashir Electrician, Abdul Akhtar and Mehmood were to take the blue Maruti van and hurl grenades into Macchimar Colony. He and the other four—Babloo, Badshah Khan, Shaikh Ali and Bashir Khan—would storm the BMC in the last remaining vehicle: a maroon Maruti van, and then carry on to Mantralaya.
Shortly after 2 p.m., the three vehicles left the Al-Hussaini car park. Within minutes, the second blast shook the city’s grain market at Katha Bazaar, and soon after there was the blast at the Air-India building.
As Babloo drove the van down Cadell Road towards the BMC, everyone in it seemed to be in a pensive mood. They were carrying several AK-56 assault rifles, detonators and hand grenades. Badshah broke the silence once to ask if they had enough ammunition for all the BJP and Shiv Sena leaders. Chikna assured him that they did. As they drove down Prabhadevi Road, the fourth blast took place at Lucky Petrol Pump, near Sena Bhavan. It was 2.30 p.m.
Meanwhile, the blue van had halted on the road outside the Mahim fishermen’s hutments, close to Al-Hussaini. Tainur brought the car to the kerb at a position where the eastern end of the hutments was within throwing distance. He kept the engine running while the other six got out, each carrying three or four grenades.
They stood some distance from each other and automatically settled into the stance of a bowler. They counted: one ... two ... three, and then began throwing the grenades one after the other. Almost before the grenades could land, they turned and scrambled to get in the van. By the time the first grenade exploded, Tainur had already turned the car and was driving away down Mahim Causeway. Later, the men separated and went their own way.
As the maroon van crossed over from Prabhadevi and was heading towards Worli, Chikna noticed that a detonator had begun blinking. He thought it would explode, killing all of them. He instinctively picked it up and passed it to Badshah Khan. All the men were paralysed with fear, and unable to think. Badshah promptly passed it over to Shaikh Ali. Shaikh lost no time but flung the detonator outside the window. The car was outside the RPO at Worli.
A loud explosion numbed their minds and senses. The van was lifted off the ground and landed again on the road with a thud, fishtailing. The rear windscreen was shattered. But the men were profoundly grateful still to be alive. They believed that if the detonator had remained in the car for a second more, they all would have died.
In a freak coincidence, it was the blue Commander jeep parked by Gani in front of the wine shop that had exploded at the very same moment as the detonator was thrown out.
Chikna and his men were so badly rattled by their brush with death that they interpreted the incident as a sign from God for them not to pursue their mission further. Chikna asked Babloo to park the van at some place, and said they would abandon the vehicle. Babloo took a right turn from the Glaxo factory and drove by the Siemens factory. Chikna indicated that this was where they should leave the van.
Babloo parked the van outside the locked gates of the Siemens factory. The men got out and he locked the car. In their shaken state, they forgot to collect the weapons in the vehicle, though it would have been hard to carry unwieldy AK-56s without attracting attention. They walked up to a taxi stand. As a precaution, they decided they would switch taxis after a point. They took two taxis to the Haji Ali junction, from where they took another two to Nagpada in south Bombay, where Chikna had decided to hide in the house of his relatives for a few hours.
As the explosions carried on at Zaveri Bazaar and the Plaza, Iqbal and Nasim were riding towards the airport on a Hero Honda motorcycle belonging to Tiger’s brother, Ayub Memon. Iqbal, riding the bike, knew that he had accepted this job because what the others were doing was much more risky. Nasim, the pillion-rider, would have to undertake the actual task of throwing the grenades.
They entered the airport and rode towards the flyover, to the point that Badshah had briefed them about. They could see bay 54. It was mid-afternoon and the airport was deserted. They looked around to check that no one was watching, and then Nasim lobbed three grenades one after the other. The moment Nasim said ‘Chal bhaag ’, Iqbal twisted the bike’s throttle and they rode down the bridge at full speed. They anticipated wailing police sirens behind them, but their fears were unfounded.
The first priority was to get rid of the motorcycle in case somebody had noted the number and informed the police. As they passed the Marol fire station, they saw fire engines go towards the airport. Iqbal took a right turn into a slum area. At the first convenient spot they parked the bike and parted ways.
That evening, while the people of Bombay were submerged in sorrow, the terrorists rejoiced in their victory. At Nagpada, Javed Chikna and his aides were in a festive mood. They had heard the reports of explosions in many parts of town and congratulated each other, Chikna especially pluming himself for coordinating the task so well. Now the escape of each and every person involved in the bombings was the most essential task. Chikna gave Rs 10,000 to each of them when they met that evening. He instructed them to leave the city as soon as possible, but to keep in touch with Tiger in Dubai.
■
The Bomb Detection and Disposal Squad (BDDS) in Bombay, an arm of the crime branch, was reckoned to be the best bomb handling and diffusing team in the country. It was very well equipped, and had a well-trained staff comprising three inspectors, nine SIs and fifteen constables. A talented and unconventional officer, Senior Police Inspector Nand Kumar Chougule, headed it.
Nand Kumar Chougule (Courtesy Mid-day)
Chougule was regarded as one of the finest officers in the city. He was a gentle giant, affectionately called ‘Nandu’ by his colleagues. He had taken charge of the BDDS in July 1991. Though at that time he did not know much about bombs and explosives, he had since undergone intensive training with the NSG at Delhi and the 203 Bomb Disposal Company at Khadki, Pune.
At lunchtime on 12 March, it had been another unexciting day at the BDDS offices in Stone Building, behind the LT Marg police station, a stone’s throw from the police headquarters. Given the specialized nature of its work, the BDDS was summoned only under exceptional circumstances. Otherwise, it was a drab existence.
Like many others that day, Chougule’s lunch was interrupted. It was
the police control room, announcing the explosion at the BSE.
Chougule rushed out, spewing orders: ‘Load the equipment. Get the van ready. Hurry up! Call Pandhre and Zarapkar. Bring Zanjeer. Let’s go!’ SI Shankar Pandhre and Inspector Abhay Zarapkar were his two most trusted officers.
A flurry ensued. Officers and men began yanking on their pale green uniform overalls, with ‘Bomb Squad’ emblazoned on the back. The van was loaded with the vital equipment, most of it imported, each in its own place in a specially designed cupboard. The most important among these was the Radio/Cable Control Mobile Investigation Unit (RCMIU), a radio-operated robot which went into bomb sites too dangerous for men to go; and carried bombs to safe spots for detonation. Other important pieces of equipment were the Explosive Detector Model 97 (EDM 97), which used gas chromatography to detect volatile substances and the portable Mini X-ray System which was used to study the innards of suspicious objects. Other items included Radio-Operated Wire, used to unlock bags that are suspected to contain explosives, the Deep Search Metal Detector (DSMD), which could detect a device hidden up to three feet below the ground, and the hand-held Simple Metal Detector (SMD), most commonly used to frisk passengers at airports.
The most important detector however was at the men’s feet as the van left at 1.42 p.m. This was Zanjeer, a one-year-old golden Labrador who had joined the team in December 1992. He too had been trained at Pune like Chougule, but his specialization was sniffing out explosives.
Sirens blaring, jumping signals, flouting rules, the BDDS convoy of the van and two escort jeeps reached Dalal Street almost at the same time as the fire brigade. In front of the BSE, the men in green started leaping out of the van even before it had come to a complete halt.
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