Who Painted My Money White

by Sree Iyer

  Pir Mohammad, who had done Haj twice in the last ten years - availing the Indian government’s subsidies for pilgrims - had taken it on himself to brainwash the young woman into converting to Islam and marrying a Muslim man. This was essential for two reasons. One, the woman came from a deeply religious Hindu family and needed a great deal of coaxing to let go of her faith and beliefs. Two, the Muslim man she had fallen in love with had a dubious past. He had been booked by the police a few months ago in a case of communal rioting, and was already married twice, although he was only 30. Both his earlier wives had left him on accusations of domestic violence and unnatural acts of sex.

  Smitha Gopalan was the Hindu girl, who fell in love with local car mechanic, Sadiq. Her parents were naturally opposed to the alliance because of the man’s religion and also his past. One day, she had simply disappeared from home. After days of painful search, her father discovered Smitha at a safe house managed by a bunch of local Muslims owing allegiance to Pir Mohammad. He alleged abduction and wrongful confinement and went to the Kerala High Court with his appeal. Her father also said that Smitha had been forcibly converted and married off, adding that a larger conspiracy was at play. His argument was that love was being used as a convenient bait, like in many other cases, to lure Hindu girls to convert. Meanwhile, Smitha had assumed her new name, Nafisa Bi.

  The Kerala High Court declared the marriage null and void, holding that it had taken place through coercion. But the girl refused to return to her parents’ home. This was not surprising since she was, by now, fully misled under the influence of Pir Mohammad and the claims of love by her ‘husband.’ She maintained that she had left her parents’ home voluntarily and was happily married to Sadiq. She blamed her parents instead, for seeking to ruin her life. The High Court order had to be challenged, and assisted by her new community leaders, Nafisa Bi went to the Supreme Court.

  Meanwhile, Sadiq’s past seemed close to catching up with him. The Smitha-turned-Nafisa incident had triggered probe into his activities. The woman’s father had leveled a serious charge against him, which could not be easily brushed aside, though the state authorities under a ‘secular’ government sought to downplay it. The charge was that his daughter’s abduction, forced conversion and subsequent marriage was one among many such cases wherein women of other faiths were converted to Islam and sent to extremist-controlled territories like Syria as sex slaves, or to be used as human bombs in terror attacks. It turned out that one of Sadiq’s previous wives had fallen out with him after she refused to go to Yemen for ‘social work’ on an all-expense paid trip. It was that refusal which triggered a spate of violence against her by her husband and his family. When called to intermediate, Pir Mohammad had justified the violence by promptly issuing a fatwa, that a Muslim husband had the right to assault his wife in case she refused to heed his directive in the larger Islamic interest.

  The Nafisa Bi matter caught the interest of The National Investigation Agency (NIA), the country’s premier probe organisation on issues related to terrorism. It moved an application with the Supreme Court, seeking an order to inquire into various aspects of the case, which the High Court had famously termed as ‘Love Jihad.’

  It turned out to be an inconvenient turn of events for Sadiq and his backers. But they were confident that the apex court would quash the proceedings since they had covered their tracks well. The confidence came from the fact that state authorities, including the police, had been most cooperative towards them, ensuring that every piece of evidence that could potentially impact them, had been tampered with or obliterated. After all, the state regime had opposed the NIA’s probe into the matter.

  But the Supreme Court allowed the NIA to proceed with its investigation. Facing non-cooperation from the state authorities and a barrage of motivated accusations from the Muslims led by Pir Mohammad claiming that the NIA was interfering in the community’s personal matters, the probe agency hastily closed the chapter and submitted its report to the apex court. Interestingly, the NIA had earlier reported that it had traced a common ‘mentor’ in a clutch of controversial cases of conversion and marriage.

  Regardless of the apex court’s order that gave a clean chit in the Smitha Gopalan case, it was more than apparent to Smitha’s father and other like-minded citizens that Love Jihad very much existed in Kerala and in its most forceful form in minority-dominated regions of the state. Even judges who had served in Kerala had noted the alarming trend of young women from other faiths being brainwashed and lured into ‘affairs’ by Muslim men. One of the judges remarked that the case diary in a particular instance had clear suggestions of forceful conversions through a concerted effort, endorsed by certain radical outfits. And it was spreading, with similar incidents reported in neighbouring Karnataka or faraway Uttar Pradesh. But no culprit could be brought to book, simply because there was no evidence against them in any of these cases.

  The absence of clear proof led to the strengthening of the left-liberal lobby, which had slammed those who ran campaigns against Love Jihad. The political system, the media, and the academia spoke against it, ensuring safe passage to the Love Jihadists in the process.

  Pir Mohammad was happy with the way the Nafisa Bi case had been handled. Had it gone wrong; it would have spoilt the larger game plan he was involved in. There was more than one Smitha Gopalan to be converted; it was work in progress. His handlers — agents in Gulf with whom he had come in contact during his Haj visits — were boosting him with frequent rousing sermons in the name of Allah. And large amounts of cash, of course. He had risen from relative obscurity to being a revered figure, both in religious and political circles. He had also become a kingpin of various activities aimed at radicalising Muslim youth in the state.

  A large section of Kerala’s Muslims had prospered thanks to the Gulf boom, but many among them were also exposed to radicalisation as a result. They were exposed to provocative material that eulogised Islam and instigated them against other faiths. They were taught that everything was fair when it came to the protection of Islam. Extremist outfits that were behind these activities kept changing their names but not their purpose. Some mainstream parties were involved too.

  Reports suggested that Islamist outfits had since been rising undeterred, so much so that even the communists, who had no reservations in siding with them when it came to taking on the right-wing parties, began to feel uncomfortable over time. One of these outfits was the secular-sounding Popular Front of India that was formed in 2006 as a social organisation. Behind the façade was the agenda to polarise society along religious lines and spread communal hatred. It was accused of various anti-social and anti-national activities, including association with Islamist terror groups. Eventually, even the government of Kerala had to take note and told the Kerala High Court that the PFI’s activities were inimical to the safety of the country. The organisation was banned, but the likes of Pir Mohammad continued to flourish.

  CHAPTER 12.

  Operation BreakIndia

  Pervez Pasha was looking at the graphic pinned on a wall in his office, titled Operation BreakIndia. He was satisfied with the progress his man, Javed Bhatti, was making on all the three fronts that he was tasked to start a few years ago. As the head of the Covert Action Division of the ISI, he was responsible for planning, sourcing and executing destabilisation plans in foreign countries. That Kerala would be a ripe nerve center to plan and execute his plan was something that he was working on for a while. When posted in Dubai, he had noticed how expatriates from Kerala abounded in various vocations. After a bit of digging, he found that most of them were Muslims and fairly moderate in their outlook.

  Figure 1. Operation BreakIndia

  When Pervez returned to Pakistan, he was shocked to see the spread of Wahabism under Zia-ul-Haq. But a quintessential survivor that he was, he quickly adapted himself to the new reality of Pakistan and would always go above and beyond the call of duty.

  After 26/11, a new plan was needed to keep the pot boi
ling in India. Pervez called his best protégé, Javed, and outlined the broad strokes of Operation BreakIndia. Javed was a quick learner and knew exactly what he had to do. For Business Jihad, especially drug trafficking, work with Dalda, for Real Estate Jihad, Danish Ahmed and for the more complex Love Jihad, Pir Mohammad. Javed was free to improvise as long as the objective was achieved.

  CHAPTER 13.

  The incredible volume of Fake Currency

  Director, Intelligence Bureau (DIB), M K Srinivasan dealt with matters of national security on a daily basis. He approached the challenge with zen-like composure, unflinched by what he dealt with. But this day was different. Mike, as he was known to everyone including the media, was feeling deeply disturbed. He had already studied the dossier on his table several times and he picked it up again, glancing at the two large bundles wrapped in waterproof casing. Finally, he came to a decision. He asked his secretary to request the Prime Minister’s Office for a half-hour appointment with the honourable Prime Minister, at the earliest.

  Mike could have gone to his immediate boss, the Home Minister, but took a considered decision not to. The minister was soft spoken and well intentioned, but he was clearly ill equipped for the position he occupied. The media talked of him more for his sartorial taste — he was known to change four outfits in a day — than any ability he may have been suspected to possess to discharge his onerous duties.

  Mike stared at the little metal India flag at his table, his totem at all times. Fiercely patriotic, he ignored disdainful pressures on the agency by corrupt politicians and was deeply committed to the welfare of his colleagues who shared his high ideals. He was known to be unafraid of consequences that came as result of putting the nation first. Ruffling feathers in the process was never a botheration. Mike had chosen the Indian Police Service over a more lucrative IAS career after being ranked 24th across the country in the Indian Administrative Services examination. He was known to have indicated his preference in the form he had filled before taking the examination. A rarity indeed.

  He held strongly that most problems the common citizen faced had to do with issues of policing at the ground level. Unscrupulous money lenders milked the poor dry and the police machinery refused to do anything for the victims because it had been ‘taken care of.’ Rich landlords exploited people from lower castes but the local police officials – fully bought over - would not just brush aside the complaints but also implicate the victims in false cases, so that the ‘right lesson’ went through. The local muscleman would send his goons to occupy a disputed property while the police machinery looked the other way. There were several such instances that had enraged Mike and inspired him to join the Indian Police Service. He never imagined that he would one day also head the Intelligence Bureau.

  Mike was born in the reservoir town of Malampuzha in Palakkad district of Kerala in a middle-class family and imbued its values. One of those was an inclination towards government service, which was viewed as a service to the nation. His cousins, uncles and aunts had all pursued careers in government jobs. Some of them had risen to ranks high enough to be allotted a car — the ubiquitous Ambassador with a beacon and blaring sirens — and attendants. India was still in the socialist era with a controlled economy back then, when one had to approach the government for licences and permits to manufacture even something as everyday as a pencil. And there too, the government fixed the volume of manufacture and the price for sale. Bureaucrats enjoyed enormous clout in such an environment, which was not an added perk but the primary attraction for working in a government job. But these mundane benefits were far from Mike’s mind when he had decided to follow in the footsteps of his family.

  Bright, sharp-witted and an excellent observer, young Mike’s grasp of technology and investigative skills soon began to be noticed and his rise was meteoric. It was not long before he was in the office of the National Security Advisor, at barely 40. Many had heaved a sigh of relief over this promotion. In one of his earlier postings, he had ruthlessly cracked down on the sand mining mafia, eventually nabbing a powerful politician who ran the operations. There had been a great deal of commotion, with the accused threatening to pull down the government if the officer was not transferred. Mike couldn’t care less.

  In another instance, he nabbed an influential journalist on charges of rape, despite the support from the ruling government that the journalist enjoyed. A young female colleague had alleged that he had molested her in an elevator, not once but twice. The ruling party called it a witch-hunt and backed the journalist’s claim that he was targeted for his pro-regime and anti-opposition stand. He even went to the extent of claiming that Mike had become a proxy for his opponents. Unaffected by any of this, Mike and his team pursued the matter relentlessly, resulting in the accused journalist’s trial in a lower court.

  But perhaps the most celebrated of his showdowns was with a serving chief minister and another minister in the early years of his career. He was then the Deputy Commissioner of Police. He had to oversee arrangements of the viewing of the mortal remains of a venerated saint in the Catholic faith that is put on public display every twelve years. The saint had died centuries ago and his body had been preserved and kept in a local Mumbai cathedral that had become a tourist attraction. All traffic is stopped a kilometre away from the cathedral on this day. That year, when a minister of the state’s ruling party arrived in his official vehicle, he was stopped at the cutoff point, like with all other vehicles. He was requested to walk to the cathedral. Outraged at this insolence, he turned to Mike and demanded the VIP treatment he was entitled to and used to. Mike politely declined, leaving the fuming minister to walk the distance.

  The minister was not the forget and forgive variety. He lodged a complaint with the Chief Minister, and Mike was summoned to the Chief Minister’s chamber immediately. The Chief Minister, a seasoned politician belonging to an aristocratic family, asked Mike to allow his ministers’ vehicles to go right up to the cathedral. Mike politely told him that the directive went against the established traffic norms laid down for the safety of the people. If the Chief Minister wanted exceptions to be made, he would have to provide a written order. The enraged Chief Minister, not used to having his orders disobeyed, complained to the centre.

  Mike was relieved of his charge and packed off to another city, but his rise was not to be dented. His competence and potential were legend by now, all the way up at the government hierarchies. He was appointed the chief of the Intelligence Bureau when he was only 45. It was not unusual for IPS officers to work at the Intelligence Bureau, but someone this young heading the bureau, did not happen every day. It also comprises officials from the Indian Revenue Service and the military. Over the years that he had served so far, Mike had helped crack several cases that could have had serious ramifications for India’s internal security. He had an uncanny instinct to sniff out intelligence from the unlikeliest of places and act upon it with lightning speed.

  Mike punched the desk with his fist. Placed before him were two stacks of Rs.1000 notes with near identical features, serial numbers, security threads and colour. To the naked eye, they were identical. That this was even caught was purely accidental. A Kerala-based cooperative bank had deposited currency amounting to lakhs of rupees into the Reserve Bank of India and at the same time, another large stack of Rs.1000 notes had been deposited by a Grameen Bank from Malda, West Bengal. A member of the Visual Inspection Unit was marking off the beginning and ending serial numbers into the RBI computers. The alarm went off when the second stack was entered.

  The RBI has set procedures to deal with such instances. The local police in both Kerala and Malda were alerted and the cooperative bank managers were taken into custody. The Maharashtra Police then swung into action and alerted both the Central Bureau of Investigation and the Intelligence Bureau. The high-precision scanning machine at the headquarters of the RBI confirmed the agencies’ worst fears. Both sets of notes were counterfeit but would pass inspection in all but the high
est resolution scanners, which were programmed to look for one secret marker that was visible only when beams of Magenta/ Orange/ Blue rays were shone on the note, in that sequence. The colour beams caused a minor reaction on the paper revealing the year the note was manufactured. In these bundles there was none.

  Mike received information that the appointment with the Prime Minister had been fixed for five that evening. From all that he picked, he smelled a larger conspiracy involving senior people in the government, perhaps even some ministers. He wanted to report his suspicions to the Prime Minister and leave it to him to take a call. He hoped that all decisions from here on will be made in the nation’s best interest. This is all that he could do, for now.

  Promptly at five, Mike was shown into Prime Minister Dhillon’s chamber. The Prime Minister listened to him with the deadpan expression that had become his trademark, only making a couple of sporadic interventions. When Mike told him of the possibility of the involvement of senior government functionaries, maybe a couple of ministers too, Jagat squirmed in discomfort. He eyed the bundle of notes warily and asked Mike if he had any concrete evidence of such involvement.

  “No Sir. But we have sufficient material to launch a discreet probe,” Mike said, naming a few suspects. He wanted the Prime Minister’s consent. Jagat rubbed his forehead and said he would get back. Meanwhile, he asked Mike to leave the dossier behind and take away the bundles of counterfeit currency.