Although I had missed out on the earlier generation that saw Dawood actually emerge as a don, I was there for the part of the action that resulted in the meltdown of the Mumbai mafia. As I wrote their stories, taking swipes at them, describing their hidden dens and their networks, their interests, their women, their colourful lives, their hold over Bollywood and real estate deal-meddling, I met with the dons themselves to hear their stories firsthand and set them down. So there was a meeting with Arun Gawli, the don from Dagdi Chawl in south Mumbai at the Harsul Central jail in Aurangabad. I spoke to Chhota Rajan, who was spitting fire at Dawood, his one-time friend and benefactor, who was holed away in southeast Asia; then I spoke to Dawood’s Man Friday Chhota Shakeel and, of course, Abu Salem and Ashwin Naik. As a crime reporter, however, my repertoire would not be complete until I had interviewed the one man who had left the shores of Mumbai but still held sway over his city from afar.
By then, of course, everybody was writing about Dawood but access to him had trickled away. Although Dawood had given interviews to journalists before 1993, he had simply vanished off the media radar after 1995. Dawood had just relocated to Karachi at this time and was virtually inaccessible on the phone.
I decided to take the second best option. I began working on Shakeel’s Mumbai network: his hawala operators, gang managers, and other contacts. Within a few months, I was one of the first journalists to crack a hotline to Chhota Shakeel.
Eventually I asked Chhota Shakeel to set up an interview with Dawood. Soon after, T-Series music baron Gulshan Kumar was killed by Abu Salem, who was by then operating on his own. But Chhota Shakeel did not want any part of the blame to fall on Dawood, as his boss was not responsible for Kumar’s death, Salem was. So finally Dawood Ibrahim did agree to an interview. The terms for the interview were set: I would publish Dawood’s interview without any distortion and I would not contact the man who had led me to Dawood any more. A big price to pay.
This is how it was to work. My instructions were to wait patiently; Dawood would contact me whenever it suited him. For a long time after that, there was no beep on my pager from my source. Then Outlook magazine ran a story on how Dawood was public enemy number one. This hit him badly—so much that he sent his men to attack the Outlook office. The office was badly vandalized although nobody was hurt.
Within a couple of days, my pager beeped and I was asked to call on a local number. I was in a rickshaw passing through Kalina so I got off and called from a local restaurant. I was asked to wait for a couple of minutes, and soon after I received a call at the number I had just used.
The caller spoke in a very polite manner. His phone manner was perfect, enough to put a well-bred Lucknowi to shame. I was amused, thinking to myself that the don had done well for himself and hired some really cultured phone attendants. I switched to my own repertoire of chaste Urdu and asked, ‘Janab, aap ka isme geraami [pray what’s your good name]?’
I was utterly taken aback when he said, ‘Main Dawood bol raha hoon, aap mujh se baat karna chahte the. [This is Dawood speaking. I believe you wished to speak with me.]’
We spoke for fifteen minutes, during which he painstakingly tried to explain how he was not public enemy number one and wondered how his name had unnecessarily been dragged into the serial bomb blasts case. I said, ‘Okay, I want to record this. Can you give me an exhaustive interview?’
The interview was to be conducted over the phone and via fax. If he did not like a question on the phone, I was not to repeat it on the fax. I agreed.
He gave me a date and time and the number of a PCO, where I was supposed to wait. On the appointed day, he called exactly at the designated time, 10:40 pm IST. The interview lasted for fifty minutes.
I called my editor, Meenal Baghel at the Indian Express afterwards. She sounded pleased, as she usually did, with my big stories. She gave me a compliment too: ‘You have reached the stature of Ritu Sarin [a top-notch reporter in the Delhi bureau of the Indian Express].’ This was a scoop that was to go down in reporting history; also the first time Dawood had given an interview after he had gone into exile.
Here is the gist of the interview, which appeared on the front page of the Indian Express in September 1997.
‘Film industry shouldn’t be afraid of me’
AFTER a long silence of over four years, India’s most wanted underworld don, Dawood Ibrahim Kaskar, spoke to S HUSSAIN ZAIDI recently. Speaking on the telephone for over 45 minutes from an undisclosed location, Dawood skirted questions about Pakistan’s ISI and denied he had engineered the serial blasts in Mumbai. Excerpts from the interview, sans comment:
In which part of the globe are you now?
I don’t have any problem visiting any part of the world, except India where false and politically motivated cases await me.
But there are reports that you are holed up in Karachi and that your movements are watched by Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence [ISI]...
Hmmmm. How do I know who is watching me? They never tell you, do they?
There are reports that you have invested heavily in real estate in Karachi, that you are at present involved in constructing a few shopping plazas there?
What? This is absolute nonsense.
What do you think of that country?
Pakistan is an Islamic country and the next door neighbour of India. But, I don’t have much knowledge about it.
Have you retired from your gang activities? Who controls your gang now?
Except for my short stint with the underworld in Mumbai, I was never engaged in any gang activity. So where is the question of my being involved with them now?
Any comments on your flourishing extortion rackets and your expanding drug empire?
Nonsense. I have never extorted money from anybody. These are baseless charges.
And your drug business?
Zaidi saheb, because I respect you, I pardon such an irreverent line of questioning. I was never into the drug business. In fact, I don’t even associate myself with those who are in this business. I hate this stuff and also hate those who deal in it.
Is it not true that among your men, Ejaz Pathan is executing drug deals for you?
Rubbish! Ejaz Pathan is not my man. He does not do any business for me.
Then how come there are so many charges against you?
As you know, I am not in India at the moment. Which civilised nation would ever allow an expatriate to engage in drugs business in their land? Despite the Indian law enforcement agencies’ perpetual hatred for me and my family they have not been able to frame even a false drug case against me. The recent offensive has been launched against me with political motives. But the people behind this malicious propaganda cannot deceive the international anti-narcotic agencies.
Do you still consider yourself to be a patriotic Indian?
How do you think one feels about the country of his birth, where his family and mother still live? Not only was I born and raised in India, innumerable people in that country know that I am their ‘bhai’.
Then why did you engineer bomb blasts killing more than 300 people?
The bomb blasts were a conspiracy to distance me from the people who loved me. As I have stated earlier, I had nothing to do with the Bombay blasts. Every day I see the blasts being mentioned in one newspaper or the other, but I have rarely seen newspapers condemning the people who orchestrated the demolition of the Babri Masjid and forced 140 million Indian Muslims to reassess their future in this country.
OK. But tell me, why are you threatening and killing the film industry people?
This is absurd. I would like to tell the film world that there is no need to be afraid of me. Also, those who terrorize them in my name are not my people.
Who are your friends in the film industry?
I have shared an excellent relationship, based
on mutual respect, with a number of film personalities, though in the present climate of suspicion I would not like to name them.
Were you aware of Gulshan Kumar’s killing?
Only after Reuters filed the story from Mumbai.
Is it true that Abu Salem carried out the killing without informing you?
I don’t know what you are talking about. The press and the Mumbai police should talk to the people who have publicly claimed to have full knowledge about the killers. These important people are ready to unravel the whole mystery. The police must now stop blaming me for every death in Mumbai. Thank God I was not around in 1947; otherwise I would have been blamed for the Partition.
Are you financing films?
No.
What do you think about Nadeem? Is he innocent or guilty?
I don’t know Nadeem. To the best of my memory I have never met him. Somebody should ask the police to stop chasing shadows.
What do you think of Mumbai police? Do you approve of encounter killings?
Mumbai police is degenerating. Once the most respected police set-ups in the country, it is now framing false cases and getting innocent people killed in fake encounters. It is fast losing the respect of Mumbaiites.
Which political party you are close to?
To tell you very frankly, before the Babri Masjid demolition I used to have pretty liberal political views and had held two different national political parties in very high esteem. After the Babri mosque demolition I have developed this rigid political opinion that the Muslims of India must only associate with the Muslim league.
What do you think of Gawli and Rajan?
Who?
Arun Gawli and Chhota Rajan, your rivals, who are after your life.
My views about them are similar to that of an average Mumbaiite. For me they are street hoodlums. As regards their challenge, elephants don’t react to barking dogs.
Are you supporting Ashwin Naik?
No.
Do you like being addressed as a don… do you miss a common man’s life with your wife and children?
I am a businessman not a don. As regards my family life, I am quite happy and don’t miss anything.
Have you ever thought of coming back to India?
Several times. Once the government of India withdraws false cases against me, my friends and family members, I will catch the first flight to Mumbai. I will then go and offer my prayers of thanks at the Jama Masjid.
As it turned out this was Dawood’s last published interview. After this, he might have spoken to journalists but he never allowed them to publish the conversation as an interview. During the several conversations I had with him, I found him to be an intelligent, witty, and softspoken man. He displayed a cool, baseline temperament that did not spike at any point during the conversation. He showed no trace of arrogance or power as a don but kept dropping hints and clues of his well-informed network within the police department and his own intelligence network.
Dawood did not like any kind of aspersion to be cast against himself, any negative image of himself to be painted. He hated the way in which the Outlook article portrayed him as traitor. He wanted to be the Don. For, he was the boy from Dongri, the man who managed to outdo Haji Mastan, Karim Lala, and Bashu Dada and, of course, the giant Pathans. He became numero uno through his skill and a certain amount of luck. What follows is the tale of all these men and the empires they built.
PART I
1
The Big D
Power flows from the barrel of a gun. Ask Dawood Hasan Ibrahim Kaskar: he is not just an attestation to this power, he is living testimony to its omnipresence. India’s mafia export to the world, now living in hiding somewhere in Pakistan, underworld leader Dawood Ibrahim is the most wanted man on the planet. When Dawood, leader of the infamous criminal outfit D Company, was dubbed a global terrorist by the US Treasury Department in 2004, there were no furrows in the brows of his henchmen, spread all over the globe. They said the United States had reaffirmed the numero uno status of their boss who, according to them, believes from the depth of his twisted heart that he is on par with the President of the United States
And so for many years, Dawood would name all his villas ‘The White House’. He had one in Dubai until 1994, and when he shifted base to Karachi, his new headquarters became The White House; and there was another White House in London. Like the original White House incumbent, Dawood juggles deals with several countries—the difference being that most of the people he deals with are the shadowy ones who fuel the black economy of most countries. Wanted by India for various crimes including masterminding the 1993 Bombay serial bombings in which 257 people died and over 700 others were wounded, Dawood is also suspected of having provided logistical support for the 26/11 terrorist attack in the city.
In the years after he left Indian shores in 1986, the ganglord kept pining for his home country and made many attempts to stage a comeback. So while in enforced exile in Dubai, Dawood would recreate India in Dubai or Sharjah, by getting Bollywood stars to dance to his tunes or cricketers to do his bidding in his adopted country of residence.
Dawood had managed a pleasant lifestyle, a home away from home. But he would frequently send feelers about his wish to return to India through some politicians whom he was close to; it would be stonewalled, he would try again, and so on.
Then the March 1993 serial bomb blasts happened and Dawood realised that he had to finally cut the umbilical cord. Named as one of the accused, Dawood understood that he had no hopes of ever returning to his motherland. His rise to international fame began after 1992; until then he was chiefly involved in real estate; gold, silver, and electronics smuggling; and drug trafficking.
Dawood loved Mumbai and was the quintessential Mumbai boy, sharing with the city its zeal for living and ability to persist in the face of adversity. On the other hand, Pakistan beckoned and it was offering him refuge, a new name, a new identity, a new passport, a new life, if not much else. There was a catch of course; he would be a pawn in their hands. But then he was Dawood Ibrahim, he would change Pakistan and make the country dance to his tunes, he thought. Since he held the purse strings, this would not be a problem. So, leaving his beloved Mumbai behind, he chose to cross borders.
And so began Dawood’s new journey with India’s arch enemy, Pakistan. In the last forty years, two people have changed the equations between India and Pakistan; one is Dawood Ibrahim and the other was former president of Pakistan General Zia-ul-Haq. If Zial-ul-Haq got Salafi Islam to Kashmir and changed the Sufi Kashmiris of India by giving more impetus to militancy in Kashmir, Dawood Ibrahim has soured the relations between the two countries to the point of no return.
The situation has become a standing joke. The Indian government has been shrilly seeking custody of Ibrahim, and Pakistan, with a straight face, has been denying that he is on their soil. But he manages to be Pakistan’s trump card, to be used against India every once in a while. Both countries are aware that Dawood holds the key to the peace process between India and Pakistan.
In Karachi, Dawood initially lived in a Clifton neighbourhood bungalow, his local White House. But when he had a son called Moin, after having had three daughters in a row (Mahrooq, Mahreen, and Mazia), he built a sprawling mansion called Moin Palace in the same neighbourhood, in celebration of a long-awaited male heir. Moin Palace is the most guarded villa in the area today, with a huge posse of Karachi Rangers on round the clock vigil. The house boasts opulent Swarovski crystal showpieces, has a waterfall, a temperature controlled swimming pool, a tennis court, a billiard court, and a jogging track. His special guests are housed in Moin Palace while other less important ones are accommodated in a guesthouse in the vicinity of the Palace.
Obviously, Dawood lives life king size. His dapper suits are from Savile Row, London. A collector of timepieces, he wears exclusive Patek Ph
ilippe wristwatches and sometimes Cartier diamond studded ones, all worth lakhs of rupees. He smokes Treasurer cigarettes and wears Maserati sunglasses, sports shoes from Bally and signs with a diamond-studded pen that must be worth more than 5 lakh rupees. Dawood has a fleet of cars, but moves about in a black bomb-proof Mercedes. When he is on the move a cordon of Pak Rangers escorts him, putting the security of the Pakistani president to shame.
But all the wealth in the world cannot guarantee you a good night’s sleep. Dawood is an insomniac; he drags himself home only in the wee hours of the day if he has not brought the party home already. He sleeps during the day and works in the evening. He often throws lavish mujras (dance recitals) for Pakistani politicians and bureaucrats, a former caretaker prime minister of Pakistan included.
Those who have met him at his villa say that various chief ministers of Pakistani provinces were found queuing for an audience with him in his waiting hall. Even those who were made to wait for hours at a stretch did not murmur a word in protest though; one meeting with the don could change their fortunes.
Dawood owns various properties scattered across Pakistan including the Khayabane Shamsheer area and the main avenue of Shah Rahe Faisal in Karachi and Madina Market in Lahore. He also has a home in Orkazai near Peshawar. Starlets from Pakistan receive his special attention and are more than willing to entertain him.
Despite being in Pakistan, he still calls the shots in India. Until some time back, Indian movie moguls and gutkha barons asked him to arbitrate disputes. And in Mumbai, many businesses—from real estate to airlines—carry the invisible Dawood logo. In that sense, he has not let go of Mumbai. He operates several real estate projects and companies in Mumbai via remote control. The police and politicians from India are still in touch with the don; many policemen in Mumbai have in fact lost their jobs after they were exposed as having links with his gang.
Dawood is 5 foot 11 inches with a menacing gaze. So what makes the man tick? He has presence; there is the way he talks, a kind of charm with a convincing quality about it; our very own Al Pacino.
Dongri to Dubai - Six Decades of the Mumbai Mafia Page 2