Let Me Say it Now

by Rakesh Maria

She let him conduct his life the way he wanted but preserved an identity of her own that remained unshaken till the end. She was the presiding deity of the house whom all of us, including Dad, looked up to. Dad and Mama had arrived at a beautiful way of living in harmony, of living with each other’s differences. What is more, they also understood that each child is different and created a world where every child was made to feel precious and allowed to pursue their own dreams provided he or she did their best.

‘I say don’t copy. If you do, don’t get caught. If you get caught, don’t think that I will not punish you. I will definitely punish you.’

Blessed with the ‘Maria’ in my surname, many thought I was a Christian from some coastal town down South. Those who had learned that I was a Punjabi, took me to be straight from up North somewhere. Little did they know that I was from a Maharashtrian village called ‘Vandre’ which had become ‘Bandra’ because the Portuguese and the British could not handle the pronunciation. I never tried to change people’s perceptions as I believed that ultimately it was me as a person and as a police officer that would matter to them, rather than my origin, language, caste, creed or religion. Most of the time I was proven right and it reinforced my faith.

Real wisdom is seeing through things,

No matter how serious the crisis, how stressed you are, to build the morale of your juniors is a leader’s foremost duty.

‘God will be with you since you are on the path of truth.’

What caught my attention was the fact that most of the foot-soldiers arrested were the sole breadwinners of their families. Aggrieved and angered by the riots, they had easily fallen prey to Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) and the Muslim dons of the underworld and ended up doing all the legwork to execute the conspiracy.

Some of the things he narrated to me, however, gave me an understanding of the Bollywood-underworld nexus, especially the inroads that the organised crime syndicates had made into the tinsel world. On completion of his police custody remand, Sanjay Dutt was transferred to judicial custody in the Arthur Road Jail and I heaved a sigh of relief.

But there is an unwritten rule in the police: no whining about your personal problems. It is seen as a sign of weakness if you do. We all follow it strictly and pretend such problems do not exist. We know that our seniors are aware of all these problems. We also know that if they start heeding them, neither they nor we will be able to do any work.

No one can comprehend or discern what you go through within yourself, because you do not let it show through. ‘None knows where the shoe pinches, but them that wear it!’

To secure a foothold in Girangaon, the Congress started its own trade unions which they wanted to run on Gandhian principles as opposed to the communist ideology of the Left. The mill workers though increasingly aware of their rights, proved that not only did they have an independent mind but were, above all, fierce nationalists. The communist support to the Allied war effort alienated them and the workers began leaning towards the Congress. The mill-owners, too, supported the freedom movement but naturally preferred the Congress over the communists.

For me the word postman conjured up a benignly familiar figure, deputed on the rounds of your street for years together, dressed in khakhi, going from door to door, walking up five-storied buildings without a frown in scorching summers and in monsoon deluge. All without any expectations, save during the festival of Diwali when he would be entitled to a bakhshish and a packet of sweets to suit the householder’s pocket. He was witness to our joys and sorrows written on the palm-sized postcards or inland letters that, unfortunately, no one writes any more. Occasionally, he brought envelopes with interesting stamps ‘from foreign’ which would be pasted in albums or exchanged for better and rarer ones. He knew your loved ones abroad and would even ask if all was OK with them, for he was almost family. The only time he was dreaded was when schools broke for summer vacations and the academic results were awaited by post. Otherwise, he was a friendly character for the neighbourhood who could be attacked only by untrained dogs or an occasional demented person or a drunk. That he or any of his ilk could be murdered was just unthinkable. Why in damnation would anyone dispatch a postman to death, and that too by ruthlessly gunning him down?

Officials involved in the encounters last year may or may not be prosecuted, but the fear of judicial scrutiny has immobilised the Mumbai Police. Stuck in a no-win situation, the force is at a loss for solutions. Insecurity, it seems, is as deep in the police as in the citizens.

Never be afraid because the truth will be your shield. Truth shall always prevail,’

They enjoyed the kick they got out of calling the shots to make the ‘Bollywood Badshahs’ bow to their bidding and dance to their tunes. The dons would force the producers to give roles to particular actors and actresses of their choice. They would intimidate the producers to sell the worldwide distribution rights for the overseas distribution of films to their fronts or cronies as Bollywood films had now become a lucrative business in overseas markets. They would command the presence of actresses and models in their boudoirs in overseas locations and make actors give performances at their birthday bashes. The 1994 murder of producer Javed Riaz Siddiqui, a small-time producer trying to climb a notch up, was a classic example of how they pressurised Bollywood to kowtow to them. Javed Siddiqui had announced a film with Mithun Chakraborty, Vinod Khanna and Raj Babbar under his banner, Farah Arts.

His crime was that he wanted to dump Anita Ayub from the film and asked for the signing amount of one lakh rupees to be returned.

On another occasion, a top Bollywood hero had gone to Dubai to perform a dance on Dawood’s birthday. After his return to Mumbai, one day he was whisked away at gunpoint from Film City by the Arun Gawli gang and brought to the Dagdi Chawl at Saat Rasta. Gawli’s ostentatious Navaratri celebrations were on and the hero was made to dance for the benefit of the revellers! This was one-upmanship or assertion of dominance that was a regular feature in the underworld of the eighties and nineties.

So the underworld had their tentacles already spread and embedded deep in Bollywood and they knew exactly how to hit the producers, directors and actors where it would hurt them the most. I had to be in constant touch with most of the film industry stalwarts and even small-time producers and starlets to boost their confidence and provide protection. ‘Do not give in to their demands. We will stand with you and provide protection.’ This was my ceaseless plea to all those subjected to extortion calls and intimidation. But, this is easier said than done. People in the entertainment or those in the real estate industry were simply not mentally prepared or psychologically equipped to deal with threats to their lives or to the lives of their kith and kin. However, in all fairness, the truth and reality were that the late Yash Chopra, Ramesh Sippy, Mahesh Bhatt, Vidhu Vinod Chopra, Manmohan Shetty and others firmly stood their ground and refused to be cowed down.

Today, investigations into train derailment cases have proved that this is part of the grand design of Pakistan’s ISI to create fear, panic and chaos in the entire country. Removing fishplates, placing cement blocks or boulders across railway tracks to cause fractures, are part of this game plan.

Making the railway policemen take pride in their organisation, restoring to the commuters their stolen belongings bought out of their hard-earned income, deterring pickpockets and bag-lifters, creating community-police partnership to ward off stone-pelters, all these may not be considered extraordinary jobs, but they were immensely satisfying to the policeman in me.

Jako rakhe Saiyan, maar sakey na koy Baal na banko kar sakey, jo jag bairi hoy

After the Godhra riots, to incite hatred and spread anti-India sentiments amongst the Indian Muslims, the LeT and the ISI created cassettes, audiovisuals and pamphlets specially designed to paint a bleak picture of the plight of the Gujarati Muslims and used them to turn Indian Muslims against the Indian State. From such brainwashed Indians, they chose recruits for terror modules. The moment a recruit was indoctrinated enough, the ISI would send him back to India, promising a salary equivalent to the amount earned in Dubai. He was then asked to lie low till they signalled him to wage ‘jihad’. Such operatives lying low and ready to launch terror attacks are known as sleeper cells.

‘Chinese Whispers’ is an effective and deadly tool employed to destroy careers in the police department and the unfortunate truth is that the IPS officers behind such smear campaigns are those who are regarded as ‘honest’ officers in the Maharashtra cadre. I refuse to bracket them in the category of the honest. Honesty does not mean only not accepting bribes, etc. Mental integrity also is a crucial component of character. Sadly, they were sorely lacking in that virtue!

Newspaper articles about inquiries against you are skilfully planted. The whole world comes to know when an inquiry is launched.