Dongri to Dubai (5 page)

Meanwhile, Ibrahim Dada was arrested on murder charges in another case and convicted. He was sentenced to life imprisonment. Maria continued to live in his house at Sankli Street and gave birth to his son. With Ibrahim Dada behind bars, Johnny Dada doing the disappearing act, and the neutralisation of other gangs, the star of the Allahabadi gang of Nanhe Khan was on the rise again. The gang had grown in size, numbers, clout and money, and came into focus.

Kamathipura, incidentally, has attracted gangsters for business as much as for pleasure. The red-light district housed a Kashmiri betting club run by one Sumitlal Shah who was the personal secretary of Habib Kashmiri, head of the Kashmiri gang. Ahmad Kashmiri, Ayyub Lala, and Feroz Lala too were part of the gang that operated out of Kamathipura.

Ayyub, incidentally, was also a police informant, much to the chagrin of his gang members. Once a fight ensued between him and Habib with the latter reprimanding him for telling on the other gangs. Ayyub on his part, was justifying that he did so only to remain in the good books of the cops. However, no consolation would placate Habib and they soon split their gangs.

What followed was a constant battle for one-upmanship that resulted in Ahmad kidnapping Ayyub’s lover and Ayyub retaliating by having Ahmad killed. While much of the gang’s time was spent dealing with internal rivalry, elsewhere in Bombay, legendary gangsters were gaining their hold on the city.

3

Bombay’s Midas

M
astan Haider Mirza was born on 1 March 1926 into a farmer’s family in Panankulum, a small village 20 kilometres away from Cuddalore, Tamil Nadu. Mastan’s father, Haider Mirza, was a hardworking but impoverished farmer who moved to Bombay with his son after miserably failing to make ends meet in his hometown. Arriving in 1934, they tried their hand at various odd jobs, finally managing to set up a small mechanic shop where they repaired cycles and two-wheelers in Bengalipura, near Crawford Market. The father-son duo laboured hard from eight in the morning till late in the night. But 8-year-old Mastan soon realised that even after all this toil, he could only make a meagre 5 rupees a day.

As he walked home to his basti from Crawford Market, he would often walk past the grandiose southern Bombay area of Grant Road, which housed those marvellous theatres, Alfred and Novelty. Every time he noticed a huge, sparkling car whizz past him or walked by the plush Malabar Hill bungalows, he would look down at his dirty soiled hands and wonder if a day would come when he would be able to own these cars and bungalows. This, more than anything else, stirred a certain feverish desire in him to think of ways and means to become bigger, richer and more powerful. But uneducated and unskilled, with the additional burden of supporting his family, Mastan could see only a bleak road ahead of him.

When the boy turned 18, he boldly decided to quit the cycle repairing business for good to try his hand at something else. Mastan’s father Haider was a very religious man and had always taught him to be honest and industrious. While allowing him to join the workers at the Bombay docks, he reminded Mastan that he had brought him up right and that he would not be around forever to supervise him all the time; hence Mastan must refrain from stealing, fighting, and using dishonest means to better himself.

In 1944, Mastan joined the Bombay dock as a coolie. His job was to unload huge boxes and containers of ships coming from Eden, Dubai, Hong Kong, and other cities. Bombay was not such a large dock at that time but it was still bustling with activity.

As India won its freedom in 1947, Mastan completed three years as a coolie, at the Mazagon docks in Bombay. Mastan, in those three years, saw that the British used to charge import duty and that there was a good margin to be made if this import duty could be evaded. In those days, Philips transistors and imported watches were hugely popular in Bombay.

Mastan realised that if the goods were never passed through custom, there would be no question of duty, and so, he could instead make a quick buck by passing this evasion on to the owners. And if he helped the owners evade customs duty, they would give him a cut, which, taken into account the numerous goods passing through the customs, turned into quite a substantial amount of money for Mastan. To him, this was really not a question of honesty. He believed customs duty was a British legacy and could be justifiably evaded.

Mastan knew that if he could manage to import these transistors and watches without paying import duty, he could make a small fortune for himself, which would supplement his salary of 15 rupees per month. While he thought out this devious scheme, he serendipitously met a man named Shaikh Mohammed Al Ghalib, an Arab by descent. Ghalib was also looking for someone young and energetic who was willing to support him in his illegal activity of evading import duty.

At the time, smuggling was not a full-fledged activity and people were not yet aware of the massive amounts of money they could make in the business. The only smuggling operations that existed consisted of small-timers trying to bring in imported goods in permissible quantities, which back then consisted of such prize catches as six watches, two gold biscuits, four Philips transistors, and so on.

Ghalib explained to Mastan that it would be easy for him to stash a couple of gold biscuits in his headband, a few watches in his underwear, or a couple of transistors in his turban, as he was a coolie and worked on the ground. Mastan asked him what he would get in return for the work. Ghalib promised him a good reward. Both struck up a good rapport and decided to work together.

Within months, Mastan realised that his measly salary of 15 rupees had now become 50 rupees. He began to enjoy his work with Ghalib and soon became known as the Arab’s blue-eyed boy. He was now a coolie to watch out for. Importantly, his reputation and the fact that he enjoyed special treatment by an influential and affluent Arab caught the attention of local hoodlums.

One such dada or local goon was Sher Khan Pathan, who at the time used to have his way at the Mazgaon dock. These were the days when there was no unionism at the dock. He would extort money from coolies and anyone who refused to pay would be beaten up by Pathan and his men.

Mastan witnessed this day in and day out. He wondered why someone like Pathan who did not belong to the docks and was not even a coolie or a government servant should be allowed to come to the docks and threaten and extort money from hard working coolies. Enterprising lad that he was, he decided to take on Khan.

Mastan gathered a couple of other strong people, sat with them, and told them that Sher Khan Pathan was also a human being like them. If Sher Khan could beat them up with his own hands, they had the stronger hands of labour: they were tougher and used to hard work. If their strength could collectively be channelled to beat up Pathan and his goons, the coolies could ensure that their community was relieved of the goons.

Next Friday, when Pathan came for his weekly round of extortion, he realised that ten people were missing from the huge queue. Before he could get a grip of the situation, Mastan and ten of his men attacked Pathan and four of his cronies. Pathan had his Rampuri knife and
guptis
(stiletto) and Mastan and his people had lathis and rods. Pathan had only four men, while Mastan had ten. Despite the Pathan’s
guptis
and
rampuris, Mastan managed to overpower him. Finally, a bleeding and battered Pathan and his acolytes had to run for their lives. This occasion of triumph further added to Mastan’s fame and growing clout within the coolie community.

And Ghalib’s admiration and respect for Mastan grew and he started giving him a percentage of his profit, rather than tipping him. Mastan became Ghalib’s 10 per cent partner and the Arab began to teach him how gold was to be valued and tested, as well as how it should be imported or sold off in local markets.

Soon after, in 1950, Morarji Desai, the chief minister of Bombay presidency, imposed prohibition of liquor and other contraband in the state. With such imposition in place, the mafia had a brilliant opportunity to increase their profits—provide the illegal goods not available to interested customers at exorbitant prices.

This was the time when Ghalib and Mastan came into their full form. Within months of the imposition, they started raking in money. Mastan bought himself a bicycle. Soon, he managed to buy a house of his own. He became the leader of the coolies in the early fifties, but his joy did not last long. Ghalib was arrested by the police and customs authorities for smuggling and evasion of duty, and Mastan’s dreams of success were shattered prematurely.

A legendary tale is told about Mastan’s rise after the years of Ghalib’s arrest. Mastan, who at the time of Ghalib’s arrest had just taken delivery of a box of gold biscuits on behalf of Ghalib, toyed with the idea of disposing of the box and decamping with the money. The thought of whether he should use the money to get more material from Eden or whether he should leave the box intact for Ghalib to return tormented him for a while. Finally, his father’s lessons showed him the path to take. Tempted as he was, Mastan did not embezzle the money. The box remained in his house—hidden and untouched.

Ghalib had been sentenced to three years imprisonment. Mastan returned to his life of helping small-time coolies and smugglers for these three years. Ghalib, after he served his sentence returned a broken man. In those three years, he had suffered huge losses fighting his case. His family was also in trouble. He was contemplating investing in horses for the derby, or starting a hotel or even relocating to Dubai, which was his hometown. He could not make up his mind, on which would be the best option.

For weeks Ghalib remained confused and he tried to sell off his property to support his lifestyle. It was in this confused state of affairs, that he met his old employee one day. Mastan caught hold of Ghalib’s hand and took him to a small house in the Madanpura ghetto, where Mastan showed him the wooden crate that had remained unopened for three years. It was very discreetly hidden below heaps of dirty clothes.

‘Alhamdolillah, glory to God, it is incredible. How did you manage to hide it for three years?’ Ghalib exclaimed, his eyes popping with disbelief as he stared at the crate brimming with sparkling gold biscuits. ‘Thieves or government officials will always look for valuables in well-protected trunks carefully secured with a lock. They would never think of checking a carelessly abandoned crate beneath a pile of dirty clothes,’ Mastan explained with a triumphant smile. ‘Why didn’t you take this gold for yourself and disappear from the city? Nobody would have missed you. You would have been a rich man,
Bambai ka baadshah
[emperor of Bombay]!’ Ghalib screwed up his eyes, still trying to understand through the incredulity in his brain. ‘My father always taught me that I could escape everyone, but I would never escape the Creator. I believe I can still become
bambai ka baadshah
someday,’ Mastan replied quietly.

The words, spoken with faith and confidence, brought tears to Ghalib’s eyes. He realised that in a world plagued by distrust and deception, there were still men, albeit very, very few, who were trustworthy and honest despite the strongest temptations. ‘I will accept this only on one condition. We shall both share it equally and become partners,’ Ghalib proposed in a rush of gratitude.

Mastan smiled. ‘There is nothing else that I would love more at this moment then to be your friend and partner for life,’ he said, and held out his hand.

The two partners shook hands.

It is a known fact in the world of business and crime that gold in any form could have impurities, but the yellow metal in its biscuit form is regarded to be in its purest. It was a crate full of these yellow biscuits that changed Mastan’s life and made him an overnight millionaire.

In 1955, Mastan was richer by 5 lakh rupees. He did not need to be a coolie or a dockworker any more. He immediately quit his job and decided to take up smuggling as his full-time business. He, along with Ghalib, came up with a scheme of importing gold. Ghalib had already told Mastan that they were now 50 per cent partners in the business. Ghalib went to Eden, Dubai, and other African countries and started sending gold, wristwatches, and other valuables to Bombay.

Mastan, by this show of ‘honesty’, had become quite popular in the smuggling community. His clout had grown and he was growing richer.

In 1956, Mastan came in touch with Sukur Narayan Bakhiya, a resident of Daman and also the biggest smuggler in Gujarat. Bakhiya and Mastan also became partners and they divided certain territories among themselves. Mastan used to handle the Bombay port and Bakhiya used to handle the Daman port. The smuggled items would come to Daman port from UAE and to Bombay from Eden. Bakhiya’s consignment was taken care of by Mastan.

Mastan recognised early on in life that money alone was not enough to remain powerful in the city. He also needed muscle power if he wanted to establish his supremacy across Bombay. And it is in search of this muscle power that Mastan is later found forging friendships with two of the most renowned musclemen in the city—the unlettered but influential Pathan Karim Lala and the don of central Bombay, Varadarajan Mudaliar alias Vardha bhai.