Black Friday

by S. Hussain Zaidi

  Patnaik decided to lambast his guide if he persisted with this kind of introduction to the city. As the car was about to cross into Bandra, Mane started again. ‘Sir, now once again we will enter the area of Dawood and his terrible brother, Anis.’

  Patnaik couldn’t contain himself any more. ‘Mane, you say this area belongs to Dawood, that area belongs to Gawli, the other to Amar Naik. Do we exist in this city at all or not? Do gangsters rule this city? And you tell me that happily! Nonsense, absolute bullshit! Change your attitude. Try to make this entire city the police’s, not the gangsters’.’

  During the communal riots, Patnaik had amply demonstrated his belief that the city should belong to the police. During the first round of riots in December 1992, there was a fierce clash in Koldongri, Andheri. Patnaik had jumped right into the middle of the flying bottles and sticks. The constables and SIs accompanying him were so inspired by his brave act that they too swooped down upon the marauding rioters. The day was saved by police daredevilry. That evening, looking tired and battered, his once-crisp uniform much stained, Patnaik stood on a handcart and announced to the crowds through a loudspeaker: ‘Aap log ek baat samajh lena. Is shahar mein goonda raj nahin chalega. And let all hooligans understand that whatever they do, they will fall short miserably of the power of the police. I will personally flush out each and every bhai in this area and show that we, the police, are the only bhais of the people and not these goondas.’ When he finished and jumped down from the cart, there was silence. During the January riots, the area between Bandra and Andheri in his jurisdiction remained largely peaceful while the rest of the city burnt.

  The police top brass was impressed, as was the home department. Patnaik, along with another officer who had also performed in an exemplary manner during the riots, was lauded in a ceremony in the crowded Police Club hall in early March, and a cash reward of Rs 10 lakh was announced by Sharad Pawar, who had just become the chief minister.

  Now there was trouble in his area again, with the bombing of the three hotels. Like Rakesh Maria, Patnaik had also formed a special team of officers comprising among others Ambadas Pote, Iqbal Shaikh and Sohail Buddha.

  During his years as DCP Zone VII, Patnaik had developed several contacts among underworld operatives in his area, who had often given him important leads in various cases. One of his contacts was Yeba Yaqub. He got in touch with him to find out about the blasts. Yaqub had given him a few names whom Patnaik had pursued.

  But sometimes informers deliberately give the police names of people against whom they have a personal grouse. Among the names Yaqub had given were a few people he had a grudge against. After a few days Patnaik had come to realize he had been misinformed.

  On 20 March, Rakesh Maria’s team allegedly picked up Yaqub’s brother Majid Khan of MK Builders from his Bandra residence and kept him in the Mahim police lock-up. Their records did not show that he had been arrested. His ‘detention’ would put pressure on Yaqub, who had been on the run since Asgar Mukadam, Imtiyaz Ghavate and those arrested had disclosed his name as someone involved in the conspiracy. But it is said that after two days of constant interrogation, Majid still did not provide them with Yaqub’s whereabouts. In desperation, the police allegedly picked up Majid Khan’s wife, Nafeesa.

  When Yaqub heard of this, he felt desperately worried and guilty for he knew he was responsible. On 24 March, he called up Patnaik. ‘Sahab, Majid and Nafeesa are not involved in the bomb blasts. Why were they picked up?’

  ‘I did not pick them up, nor are they in my custody,’ replied Patnaik.

  ‘Sahab, please get them released. I have heard that they are being tortured because the police suspect that I am involved.’

  ‘So why don’t you show up and clear the misunderstanding? That way you can save them.’

  ‘Sahab, if I show up they will frame me as well, and not release Nafeesa and Majid.’

  ‘I cannot help it.’

  Desperate, Yaqub called Patnaik again the following day. ‘Sahab, please do something, I heard that Majid and Nafeesa are both in bad shape.’

  ‘The police lock-up is not meant to keep people in good shape.’

  ‘Sahab, please do something.’

  ‘As I had told you earlier, they are not in my custody. There is nothing I can do! There is no point in calling unless you have any important information to share.’

  Yaqub thought of turning himself in. But he knew it would not serve any purpose. Should he try to negotiate with the police and seek the release of his kin in exchange of information about the RDX? This would be tantamount to a betrayal but the need to save his brother and sister-in-law was more pressing than adhering to his principles.

  He called up Patnaik again. ‘Sahab, can my brother be released in exchange for hundred per cent pucca information?’

  ‘I can talk to my superiors but I cannot guarantee anything.’

  ‘Sahab, my information is absolutely accurate. But I want release of my brother and his wife.’

  ‘There is no deal. I can only try.’

  Patnaik lived in Sagar Tarang, one of several plush multi-storeyed buildings in Worli, overlooking the sea. Several IPS officers, some in the Bombay police, lived in that building. As he was finishing his daily quota of newspapers early the following day, 26 March, the phone rang.

  ‘Sahab, main Yaqub Khan bol raha hoon. ’

  ‘Haan, haan, kya khabar ...?’

  ‘Sahab, I have called to give you important information ... It is about the RDX ... but you will release my brother.’

  ‘Look Yaqub, your name has been mentioned in the bomb blast case because of your connection with Tiger Memon. You...’

  ‘It is all a pack of lies,’ Yaqub interjected. ‘I don’t know why but Maria sahab wants to fix us up. My family is being framed and now even my name is being unnecessarily dragged in.’ His tone was vehement.

  ‘Well, what is the information?’

  ‘Sahab, my brother ...’

  ‘I will try ... now will you go ahead?’

  ‘Sahab, Tiger Memon had stored some RDX bags at a place in Mumbra, Thane.’

  ‘Mumbra—where in Mumbra?’ Patnaik knew the area only vaguely.

  ‘It is in the ground floor room of Mobin Nagar, near Amrut Nagar. It is in a room in the C-wing of the house.’

  Patnaik began jotting down the details. ‘Is it hundred per cent confirmed that the RDX is there or are you taking us for a ride again?’

  ‘Sahab, after you seize the kala sabun, will you let my brother go?’

  ‘We will see. Call me tomorrow.’

  The information was so specific that Patnaik thought it could be true. He called JCP Singh, who lived upstairs in the same building. ‘Sir, good morning. Patnaik speaking.’

  ‘Yes, Arup?’

  ‘Sir, I just received the information that a huge stock of RDX is hidden at a place in Mumbra.’

  ‘Is the information correct?’

  ‘Sir, I have full details of the hideout.’

  ‘Fine ... let us organize a raid right now. I will inform the CP and will accompany you to Mumbra. Let us leave at the earliest.’

  ‘Fine, sir.’

  A police raid party was organized, the bomb squad alerted and told to assemble at Sagar Tarang. By 10 a.m., Singh and Patnaik, accompanied by the BDDS squad, including Chougule, and several officers, left for Mumbra in a convoy of police jeeps, Ambassadors, Gypsies and unmarked cars. They drove along the Eastern Express Highway and within half an hour, crossed over from the Mulund checkpoint into Thane city. As the cars passed the Mumbra station, Muslims of all ages were preparing for their Friday prayers at the nearby Rizvi Baug mosque.

  Singh and Patnaik were in the same car. Singh said, ‘We have had several incidents of Dawood’s gang members taking shelter in Mumbra. In a way, it has become a haven for criminals from the D-Company.’ Patnaik nodded. He was reminded of SI Mane’s words: ‘Sir, this is the area of Dawood Ibrahim.’

  The convoy halted at Amrut Naga
r junction on the Bombay-Pune highway. A local police officer came and informed them that the blue building nearby was called Mobin Nagar. The area surrounding the building was cordoned off. Inevitably, a curious crowd of onlookers had begun to gather.

  The police party went straight to the ground floor section of C-wing. After quizzing the residents, Patnaik zeroed in on the only room that was locked. The lock was broken and the group entered the room. There was a strong stench of fish. There were jute bags stacked on top of each other in several layers. From the foul odour, Patnaik thought Yaqub had taken him for a ride again.

  The policemen ripped open several bags, only to find dried fish. Disappointment was evident on everyone’s face. After five layers of bags had been examined, the police team started showing signs of weariness and impatience.

  Frustration welled up within Patnaik as he thought of the futility of the trip, and he sought relief in kicking a bag near his foot. The bag yielded to form a cavity in the shape of his shoe. Dried fish would not yield like that. Surprised, Patnaik bent down and felt the bag. The substance inside felt like putty. He called out, ‘Chougule, Chougule, come here. Can you make out what this is?’

  The bag was opened, and there was a brownish malleable putty inside. Some other bags were found which felt similar, and on opening they were full of either a brownish or blackish substance. Chougule brought in Zanjeer to sniff the bags. He barked almost immediately, signalling that the materials were explosive.

  In all, thirty-two bags containing RDX and ten containing gelatine were found. Subsequently it was established that the bags contained 1,034 kg of RDX and 574 kg of gelatin. Some of the bags had numbers on them, and each was marked with a distinctive blue circle. This was the first major RDX haul by the Bombay police.

  The police sealed the room. A search was launched for the Gehlot brothers. Amin and Shahid Gehlot were shocked to hear about the RDX in their building. They claimed that they did not know what the contents of the bags were, that Yaqub had asked merely for room to store them without giving any explanations. They were taken into custody by the crime branch officers. CP Samra was informed about the seizure.

  It was evening when the police team was through. By this time, the press had got wind of the story and had begun converging at the spot. A huge crowd had also gathered on the Bombay-Pune highway, resulting in a traffic jam. The RDX was loaded into a separate van and handed over to the BDDS for disposal.

  ■

  It was Tuesday, 30 March, and the sun was shining brightly. Balchandra Kamdi and Babu Salian, from Nagla village, had gone to the nearby creek with their friends Pravin Khudade, his brother Baban, and Anant and Krishan Saravne. They were all in their early twenties, and this was their favourite spot for fishing and swimming.

  As Baban jumped into the water, his feet touched something that wasn’t the rock or sand usually found on the river bed. He dived under to have a look. It was a large lump of blackish substance that felt like clay.

  Baban called Pravin to take a look. Pravin was equally stumped. The other boys also came over to have a look. The lump seemed to have fallen out of a torn sack. Balchandra was fishing a little distance away. Seeing his friends gathered together, he threw the net aside and ran over to them.

  Pravin and Baban showed the lump to him. Balchandra exclaimed for he too had caught some of that substance in his net.

  The boys discussed what it could be. Finally Balchandra, the oldest, said, ‘I think it is brown sugar.’

  ‘If the police find out that we’ve laid our hands on brown sugar then we’re in for it. We should throw it away,’ said Baban.

  Babu Salian butted in. ‘Don’t be foolish. This stuff has our fingerprints on it. Let’s burn it.’

  Everyone thought this a good idea. They gathered some paper and tried to set the lump on fire. It lit up at once and billowed smoke. The thick black plumes scared the boys and they scampered away to the safety of their village.

  The whole incident might have been forgotten but for an alert police constable, Shyam Phutane. Phutane was posted at the Kalamboli police station, near Panvel. He went to Owale, the village next to Nagla, on 1 April for some personal work. He overheard Balchandra and Babu talking about drug smugglers who were stashing their wares in the creeks of Nagla Bunder. Initially, Phutane thought the boys were trying to play a joke on him. Then he confronted the young men.

  The two boys feigned ignorance until they realized that Phutane meant business and that he could book them under the Drugs Act. They told him about the black and brown cakes they had found on the bed of Nagla creek. Phutane took them to the creek and asked them to show him the mysterious cakes. Balchandra dived in and brought up a lump. After a close scrutiny, Phutane remembered the descriptions of RDX he had read in the papers after the raid in Mumbra the previous week.

  Phutane called up his superior, ACP M.C. Naik of Panvel division. Naik came over and the material was carried over to the Kapur Bawdi police station. It was about midnight. Naik decided to call the Thane CP, Basavraj Akashi. Akashi in turn summoned Addl. CP Shankar Zarekar to identify the find. Zarekar had participated in the Mumbra haul, where he had seen RDX, and he identified Phutane’s find to be the same substance. JCP Singh of Bombay police was informed.

  Singh asked the area to be cordoned off and asked the BDDS to come over to Thane. It was the early hours of 2 April. The police located Dr Vishwas Sapatnekar, who ran a deep-sea diving club, and asked him to provide them with divers. An area with a radius of about a kilometre around the spot where the boys had found the lump was marked out. The divers from Sapatnekar’s team and local youths from Owale and Nagla launched a search of the creek bed.

  The operation lasted all night and well into the day. The divers had to struggle with the darkness and the high tide. After an exhausting search, they located two large pits, about ten feet apart, within which sacks were concealed. The pits had been dug deep into the creek, to a depth of about twenty-five feet. They recovered fifteen sacks from one pit and thirty-five from the other. The sacks had been dumped in such a manner that it would have been possible to retrieve them in the future. Eight bags had drifted outside the pits.

  In all, fifty-eight sacks were recovered. Thirty-eight of them contained RDX and twenty contained gelatine. The total weight estimated to be over 2,380 kilograms. After the bags were brought ashore and lined up, Singh noticed that they bore serial numbers, beginning with 302 and going up to 554. Each bag was also printed with the distinctive blue circle that had been found on the bags recovered from Mobin Nagar, Mumbra. Later on checking, it was found that the serial numbers on the bags recovered from Mumbra also had numbers which fell within the same range as the numbers on this lot.

  ■

  Maria’s team continued their relentless investigations with many nocturnal visits, raids, summons and arrests. Bhendi Bazaar, Mohammed Ali Road, Pydhonie, Two Tanks and Nagpada were traditionally Muslim strongholds, and it was in such areas that such raids happened the most.

  The community went into a state of shock from March to May, when the police finally eased up. Young men who were not remotely connected with the blasts trembled at the sight of the police. The elders rarely stepped out of their houses after sundown. The lock-ups in the crime branch and the Mahim police station were crowded with prisoners, including hundreds who were in no way associated with Tiger Memon. Their relatives waited anxiously outside.

  To make matters worse, many of those arrested did not have recourse to proper legal aid. Faced with a surge in the demand for their services, some lawyers often did not represent their clients adequately or refused to help until paid exorbitant fees. As a result, many of the accused had to spend more time behind bars than was necessary.

  The Times of India was the first newspaper to highlight the plight of the Muslim detainees, but this report appeared only on 22 April 1993:

  While the police have arrested about eighty-eight people ... sources estimate that at least three times that number have been pic
ked up ... and lodged in the Mahim police station lock-up ... Many claimed that though they were held for periods longer than two weeks, they were never charged.

  The Bombay edition of the Sunday Observer reported on 13 June, ‘When media attention focused on the unlawful detention, the police quietly released some 300 detainees ...’ But the subject was not closed. Carol Andrade wrote on 25 June in the Metropolis,

  ... enormous sums of money changed hands ... as the jails filled up with a motley crowd that was usually guilty of nothing more than being ‘the friend of a friend’ and, therefore, the enemy of the state and the local policeman.

  A year later, the subject was still being discussed:

  The Bombay police seemed to have taken the line that anybody with a Muslim name has prima facie involvement in the blasts. There have been indiscriminate arrests, Muslims have been beaten, abused and humiliated as the police have violated every one of their fundamental rights.

  —Sunday magazine, 3 July 1994

  Newspaper reports also revealed that no records had been made of the detainees, so that when relatives came looking for them, the police could deny that they were in the lock-up. Generally, a person is supposed to be produced in front of a magistrate within twenty-four hours of his arrest. But under TADA, this was not mandatory. Sometimes the date of arrest was shown to be weeks after the person was detained, sometimes it was not recorded at all. Many of those who were released said they would bear the scars of those weeks forever.

  Rakesh Rajkumar Khurana, thirty-five, the owner of a restaurant in Bandra, was a successful and happy man. He was picked up simply because he was supposed to be close to Pilloo Khan, who was wrongly suspected of involvement in the blasts. Khurana managed to secure his release through the Bombay High Court. The order was passed on 10 April. As there was some documentation to be completed, he was to be released in a couple of days.

  On the night of 11 April in the Mahim lock-up, Khurana saw some drunken policemen barging into his neighbouring cell, which held three men and two women. They were Sayed Abdul Rehman, his wife, Noor Khan, and his daughter, and Baba Musa Chouhan. The policemen started savagely manhandling the women; the men was powerless to protest.