idea. Our local boys are idling away their time through the day. Why not enlist them for more honourable purposes?]’
Ibrahim replied politely, ‘ Ji main samjha nahi Maulana sahib [I’m not too sure I understand what you’re saying].’
‘ Kyun na naujawanon ki ek anjuman banayi jaayi [why don’t we gather the boys for a cause]?’ the Maulana continued.
Ibrahim agreed, saying, ‘ Jee Maulana, jaisa aap theek samjhe. Hamari qaum ke naujawanon ko sahi raasta dikhana aapki buzurgi hai. Mere betein toh aapki khidmat mein hamesha haazir hai [as you wish Maulana, my sons will always be available to you].’
The Maulana left Ibrahim’s house very pleased. Next, he filed an appeal in the Bombay High Court alleging that the elections had been won by the MUL through unfair means.
Ibrahim brought his sons together and informed them of the Maulana’s plan. ‘Maulana’s suggestion is almost like a firman of god for me. You all should join his jammaat and work hard to improve your community,’ said Ibrahim. They were all excited at the thought of the youth of the neighbourhood uniting under one banner. And once the idea had Ibrahim’s approval, all the families in the neighbourhood were keen to have their sons participate. It was decided that the group be called ‘Young Party’, appropriately. They began with activities like decorating the neighbourhood for festivals and organising rallies. Then, the Maulana’s idea caught the fancy of the neighbourhood and the numbers of the Young Party swelled to mammoth proportions.
However, there was a setback; the Bombay High Court dismissed the Maulana’s plea. The Maulana took his appeal to the Supreme Court but the apex court too upheld the decision of the High Court. Dejected and disappointed, the Maulana then withdrew from all further activities of the Young Party and gradually faded away from public involvement with electioneering in the area.
But in the meanwhile, the Young Party’s popularity had given rise to another idea in the mind of young Dawood. Canny as ever, he saw this as a golden opportunity to showcase his leadership skills and influence the other youth to do his bidding.
Pakhmodia Street and Musafirkhana earned another leader with the loss of one. There was now a board at the beginning of the street proclaiming it as the territory of the Young Party, one that was led by the formidable Dawood Ibrahim Kaskar.
Dawood was going past Kedy company, a high-rise in Nagpada, on his motorbike when he saw Karim Siddiqui’s nephew rushing towards him. The youth, a very close friend of Dawood’s, was severely bruised. He stopped Dawood and said to him, ‘ Hamid ne phir mujhe peeta Dawood bhai [Hamid thrashed me again, Dawood bhai]!’Dawood was enraged. The brothers Hamid and Majid were annoying him to no end. Hamid, a brawny Pathan who believed he could take on anybody and Majid, a drug addict who was wasting away in the by-lanes of Dongri, were flies Dawood could have swatted away long ago, but for Baashu Dada, who enlisted their services. And no matter what, Dawood still had respect for Dada; not because of any of his personal attributes but because of the mutual respect between Ibrahim Kaskar and Baashu. Nevertheless, it was time to put Hamid in his place. He asked Siddiqui to get on his bike and they sped off towards Hamid’s home.
Face-to-face with Hamid, Dawood could not control his temper at Hamid’s behaviour.
‘ Behanchod, tu bahot bada shaana ho gaya hai kya bambai ka [sisterfucker, you’ve become too big for your boots]!’ he roared.
‘ Nahin Dawood bhai , kuchch ghalat fehmi hui hai [no, Dawood bhai, there seems to have been a misunderstanding],’ Hamid quivered.
‘Ek baat sun le, Baashu Dada ka moonh dekh kar maine tujhe baksh diya, nahin toh tera kheema banake rakh deta [now remember one thing: I’ve spared you all this while only because of Baashu Dada, else I surely would made mincemeat of you],’ Dawood thundered.
Hamid had seen
Ibrahim replied politely, ‘ Ji main samjha nahi Maulana sahib [I’m not too sure I understand what you’re saying].’
‘ Kyun na naujawanon ki ek anjuman banayi jaayi [why don’t we gather the boys for a cause]?’ the Maulana continued.
Ibrahim agreed, saying, ‘ Jee Maulana, jaisa aap theek samjhe. Hamari qaum ke naujawanon ko sahi raasta dikhana aapki buzurgi hai. Mere betein toh aapki khidmat mein hamesha haazir hai [as you wish Maulana, my sons will always be available to you].’
The Maulana left Ibrahim’s house very pleased. Next, he filed an appeal in the Bombay High Court alleging that the elections had been won by the MUL through unfair means.
Ibrahim brought his sons together and informed them of the Maulana’s plan. ‘Maulana’s suggestion is almost like a firman of god for me. You all should join his jammaat and work hard to improve your community,’ said Ibrahim. They were all excited at the thought of the youth of the neighbourhood uniting under one banner. And once the idea had Ibrahim’s approval, all the families in the neighbourhood were keen to have their sons participate. It was decided that the group be called ‘Young Party’, appropriately. They began with activities like decorating the neighbourhood for festivals and organising rallies. Then, the Maulana’s idea caught the fancy of the neighbourhood and the numbers of the Young Party swelled to mammoth proportions.
However, there was a setback; the Bombay High Court dismissed the Maulana’s plea. The Maulana took his appeal to the Supreme Court but the apex court too upheld the decision of the High Court. Dejected and disappointed, the Maulana then withdrew from all further activities of the Young Party and gradually faded away from public involvement with electioneering in the area.
But in the meanwhile, the Young Party’s popularity had given rise to another idea in the mind of young Dawood. Canny as ever, he saw this as a golden opportunity to showcase his leadership skills and influence the other youth to do his bidding.
Pakhmodia Street and Musafirkhana earned another leader with the loss of one. There was now a board at the beginning of the street proclaiming it as the territory of the Young Party, one that was led by the formidable Dawood Ibrahim Kaskar.
Dawood was going past Kedy company, a high-rise in Nagpada, on his motorbike when he saw Karim Siddiqui’s nephew rushing towards him. The youth, a very close friend of Dawood’s, was severely bruised. He stopped Dawood and said to him, ‘ Hamid ne phir mujhe peeta Dawood bhai [Hamid thrashed me again, Dawood bhai]!’Dawood was enraged. The brothers Hamid and Majid were annoying him to no end. Hamid, a brawny Pathan who believed he could take on anybody and Majid, a drug addict who was wasting away in the by-lanes of Dongri, were flies Dawood could have swatted away long ago, but for Baashu Dada, who enlisted their services. And no matter what, Dawood still had respect for Dada; not because of any of his personal attributes but because of the mutual respect between Ibrahim Kaskar and Baashu. Nevertheless, it was time to put Hamid in his place. He asked Siddiqui to get on his bike and they sped off towards Hamid’s home.
Face-to-face with Hamid, Dawood could not control his temper at Hamid’s behaviour.
‘ Behanchod, tu bahot bada shaana ho gaya hai kya bambai ka [sisterfucker, you’ve become too big for your boots]!’ he roared.
‘ Nahin Dawood bhai , kuchch ghalat fehmi hui hai [no, Dawood bhai, there seems to have been a misunderstanding],’ Hamid quivered.
‘Ek baat sun le, Baashu Dada ka moonh dekh kar maine tujhe baksh diya, nahin toh tera kheema banake rakh deta [now remember one thing: I’ve spared you all this while only because of Baashu Dada, else I surely would made mincemeat of you],’ Dawood thundered.
Hamid had seen
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