The entrance into the area where the tanks were was sealed. It was simply impossible to enter. If only we had a rocket launcher, I thought, we could take out one tank. Just one tank. Suddenly I started imagining what actually would happen if we succeeded in blowing up those tanks. What if..., I thought to myself. And then, from somewhere inside me that I almost didn’t recognize, I thought, No!
What destruction! What havoc we would bring upon the neighbourhood! How many people would die! I could not bring myself to imagine the full extent of the devastation we could cause. At that moment, I just gave up the idea of bombing the refinery. I felt so clear about this that I thought I could convince Tiger bhai as well.
I stepped on the accelerator. The jeep picked up speed and I quickly exited from the Chembur gate and drove towards Mahim.
I was engrossed in thought when Bashir said, ‘Did you know about Gullu?’
I remembered Gul Mohammed Khan. I realized that he was at none of the meetings, and that I hadn’t actually seen him since I returned from Dubai on 4 March. But he was only one of several who had trained with us but had not been attending the meetings.
‘What about Gullu?’ I asked.
‘He has gone underground.’
‘Why go underground even before the work has begun?’ I asked incredulously.
‘I heard that dresswalas were looking for him.’
We call the police dresswalas, tholes or mamus.
‘You mean the Nirmal Nagar police?’ I asked Bashir. I knew that they wanted Gullu because he had stabbed several people during the riots.
‘Haan yaar, bol raha tha jama ho jaaonga,’ Bashir said. He wanted to surrender to the police.
I did not say a word and took a turn to the Western Express Highway. We sped towards the Golibar area. Gullu lived here, in the Navpada area, a labyrinth of slum alleys, in Behram Nagar, Bandra East. After visiting several roadside teashops, I finally located him in a small hutment where he was hiding.
‘What the hell is going on?’ I barked at him. ‘I hear you want to surrender to the police.’
‘You tell me: Why should my family suffer because of my wrong doings? Huh?’ Gullu said. He was crying. ‘They have taken my brothers and are beating them up in the police lock-up.’
I was moved. I did not know what to say. Now more than ever I had to see Tiger bhai.
I pulled up in front of the imposing Al-Hussaini building where Tiger bhai lived and went up to his apartment. Tiger bhai seemed to have just returned and looked exhausted. I told him that Gullu wanted to surrender.
I could make out that Tiger bhai was enraged, though he showed no emotion. He instantaneously made the decision. ‘Thok do b... ko (Kill him).’
‘No, Tiger bhai, I will convince him.’ I was not too sure I could but I thought it was worth a try.
‘Take Chikna along with you—and tell him to keep his mouth shut! Remind him about my warning: If anybody spills the beans then I will not only kill him but I will finish off his entire family.’
His threats upset and confused me. How could Tiger bhai even talk about killing one of us? As I reached the foot of the stairs, I saw Tiger bhai was coming down too. He wanted to come along. On the way, we picked up Chikna. But when we reached Gullu’s place, he was already gone. Our trip had been pointless. Chikna and Tiger bhai went home in the jeep, I took a cab and returned home.
The next day, 9 March, I heard that Gullu had been picked up by the police. I also found out that when Tiger bhai, Chikna and I had gone to Gullu’s house, he had still been there, hiding. I wondered what would happen if Gullu squealed on our plans. He knew everything: he’d been trained in Pakistan, he was there at Dubai, and he knew that we were planning to bomb the city. What if he told the police? He could ruin everything.
Chikna, who lived nearby, came over to my house and asked me, ‘Do you know that Gullu has been picked up by the police?’
I said I did.
‘Tiger bhai is pissed off,’ Chikna said. ‘He has called an urgent meeting at Shakil’s place at Bandra at 8 p.m. today.’ He glared at me as if I was partly responsible for the mess. I dreaded facing Tiger bhai. It was I who had argued against killing Gullu, and now the sword was hanging over our heads.
Without looking at Chikna, I said, ‘I’ll meet you there.’
■
Gullu’s arrest had dealt a severe blow to the plans of Tiger Memon. Many in the group feared that there would be a sweeping crackdown and all of them would be arrested. Their first instinct was to get away from the city and abandon the mission. The fear and uncertainty was so palpable that Tiger felt he could not keep them on a leash for long.
Tiger called a meeting after iftar, the breaking of the daily fast. Everybody was present: Chikna, Salim Shaikh, Bashir Khan, Zakir Khan, Nasir Dhakla, Parvez Kelawala, Moin Qureishi, Mohammed Iqbal, Sardar Khan, Bashir Electrician, Mehmood Kaloo, Nasim, Badshah Khan, Anwar Theba, Irfan Chougule, Tainur, Farooq, Shahnawaz Qureshi, Abdul Akhtar and Shaikh Ali. There was also Shafi Jariwala, whom many in the group had never met before but who was an old associate of Tiger’s. They were all visibly nervous, and hoping that Tiger would say something inspiring to bolster their flagging courage, or come up with a plan that would salvage the situation.
But Tiger did nothing of the sort. He merely strode in and opened a huge maroon briefcase. He brought out wads of fifty-rupee notes. He placed several wads on top of the briefcase. Everybody was awestruck at the sight so much cash. Taking everyone by surprise, Tiger gave a wad of Rs 5,000 to Chikna, another to Badshah Khan, and then one wad each to everyone in the room. They were all overwhelmed. The message was clear: if they remained steadfast in their loyalty they would get more such rewards.
Thus forestalling any murmur of protest, Tiger began to speak: ‘Gullu’s arrest can ruin our plans. But Allah ki kasam, I will not cancel my plans even if it means that I have to sacrifice my life. We can outwit the police. The cops will be expecting us to strike in a while, but like Napoleon Bonaparte we will strike earlier. So before Gullu has time to tell the police all our plans, we will put them into execution.
‘Friday, 12 March, is the seventeenth day of Ramazan. It will be the day when the Holy Prophet fought the first battle of Junge-Badr against the heathens of Mecca and forced them to retreat. The auspicious date will help us achieve success.’ Tiger paused for effect, looking around the room. His listeners seemed spellbound.
‘Bhai, it is already Tuesday evening. How can we make preparations and execute our plans in three days?’ Badshah Khan asked.
Tiger did not reply immediately. Then he said, ‘I have thought out everything. What remains now is the final selection of the spots and planting of bombs. We can finalize it tomorrow and make preparations on Thursday. We will meet again tomorrow at my residence and chalk out our strategy.’
As they had all missed their tarawih prayers that night in order to attend the meeting, the meeting for the following day was scheduled at 10 p.m., after prayers.
They all gathered on 10 March at Tiger’s luxurious apartment in the Al-Hussaini building. There was a new sense of hope and resolution. Only Nasir and Parvez Kelawala were missing from the previous evening’s group. Niyaz Ahmed and Nasim Barmare who had not been there the previous evening were present, as was Chikna’s brother Babloo. Among those not present but who would participate in the bombings were Imtiyaz Ghavate, Parvez Shaikh and Asgar Mukadam, who were part of Tiger’s inner circle and were briefed separately.
The meeting began briskly. Tiger asked Badshah Khan, ‘So, what is your report?’
‘Bhai, I think the job at the refinery is not only almost impossible to carry out, but also dangerous.’
‘How and why?’
Badshah Khan described the security and the distance from the road. He did not mention his fear about the destruction it would cause for he realized that if Tiger knew the magnitude of devastation, he would insist the refinery be attacked.
‘Okay, let us cancel the refinery,’ Tiger s
aid reluctantly. ‘I think that car bombs would be the best way of achieving our ends. We will park cars with RDX at the share bazaar, the Air-India building, Zaveri Bazaar, the grain market at Masjid Bunder, the Shiv Sena headquarters at Dadar and Plaza Cinema. Those places where car bombs cannot be exploded, we have to storm, like the BJP and Shiv Sena offices.’
‘You mean only these few places will be targeted?’ Chikna asked.
‘The five-star hotels in the suburbs too will be hit. At the BMC, we can storm in and fire with AK-56s. At the airport, Badshah will show you from where you have to throw grenades to hit the planes. And don’t forget to throw some grenades on the fishermen’s colony at Mahim. Those people should also be taught a lesson for messing with me.’ Tiger suddenly changed track from the practical to the rousing: ‘Let this city and Advani and Thackeray remember forever what we are capable of doing in the span of a few hours.’
Badshah interjected a note of practicality: ‘Bhai, can we do all this in a few hours? It is a hell of a job to unpack RDX bags, fill them in cars, attach detonators and timers and then park these cars at the locations.’
‘You can start after iftar tomorrow evening. Use my flat and the car park downstairs for filling and loading explosives. The cars have all been organized. You can work throughout the night. Then, on Friday morning, you just have to drive the cars to the targets and park them there,’ Tiger said.
‘Yes, I think it can be done,’ Anwar Theba said.
Tiger looked at Anwar, Chikna and Irfan, and then at the others and said, ‘Anwar, Javed and Irfan are the best at fixing detonators and pencil timers, so they will supervise that part of the work. The rest of you should work under their direction. I will leave by the early morning flight to Dubai. After you have finished your jobs, I have also made arrangements for your escape. There might be communal riots after this. Either you can use the machineguns and ammunition that we have, or you can give them to other Muslims.’
They talked late into the night, planning details of who would carry out what part of the operation and detailing plans of escape. Finally, Tiger asked Shafi to bring out his bag, which contained wads of fifty-rupee notes. Tiger again distributed Rs 5,000 to each of the assembled men. He also gave them his Dubai telephone numbers so that they could contact him if the need arose. He designated Chikna and Theba as leaders of the mission in his absence. The group dispersed after that.
All through that long night, Tiger was on the telephone, talking to his financiers, friends and associates in Dubai, finalizing details. He went to bed only at about 10 a.m.
When he woke up, the calendar facing him said 11 March. He looked around his comfortable home, knowing that this was the last morning he was waking up there for a long, long time. He did not know whether he would ever be back. His parents, five brothers and their families as well as his wife and children had all left for Dubai on 9 March. He got up, prayed, and continued his series of telephone calls, finalizing details about the following day. He was flying out by the 4 a.m. Emirates flight on 12 March, by which time preparations for the bombing would be well under way but he would not be able to see the fruits of his labour or be there to counsel at the final moments.
Tiger sat brooding for hours, until he heard the evening call of the muezzin. It was time for iftar. His manager, Asgar Mukadam, and his driver, Abdul Gani Turk, arrived soon after and he began to make preparations for his departure.
5
The Worst Day
Like all Ramazan mornings, 12 March had begun on a sombre note. Most of the group had not slept the previous night, as they discussed their plans in precise detail and prepared the vehicles carrying the bombs. By the break of day, all the vehicles—an Ambassador, two Maruti vans, three Maruti 800s, a Commander jeep, a motorcycle and four scooters, most of which belonged to the Memon family or their friends—were loaded with RDX putty and connected with detonators in Tiger’s car park. Three suitcases were also filled with explosives with timers attached to them. After that began the task of dispatching the bombs to their targets. Some of the members of the group were missing, such as Nasir Dhakla and Parvez Kelawala, who had also not been present at the last meeting with Tiger. Sardar Khan, having worked through the night, slipped away in the morning. This worried them but there was too much to be done to bother.
The first one to be sent off by Chikna was Mohammed Iqbal, who left at 8 a.m. to park one of the scooters at Dadar TT. The scooters were set up to go off if the vehicle was pushed around, and also contained pencil timers.
Dadar is one of the most crowded terminuses of the suburban railway network of Central and Western Railways. At every hour of the day, there are over ten thousand local commuters as well as hundreds of passengers for the long-distance trains that halt at the station. An explosion there could wreak havoc and potentially kill at least a couple of thousands people.
Iqbal wanted to park the scooter just outside the main exit of the station. He rode to the Swami Narayan temple, located diagonally opposite the terminus. As he searched for a suitable parking space, a stream of passengers came out from the station and began to queue up at the nearby taxi kiosk, which was supervised by a traffic policeman. Iqbal tried to park near the kiosk, but the policeman blew his whistle at him, indicating that he could not park there and that he was interrupting the flow of traffic.
The whistle and accompanying angry gesture so unnerved Iqbal that his first instinct was to abandon the scooter and flee. But he realized that would only aggravate the situation, so he nodded apologetically and rode towards Naigaon Cross Lane. He was sorely tempted to abandon the project, but quailed at the thought of telling Chikna. So finally he decided to park the scooter near the footbridge used by passengers, another densely crowded area. The first bomb was planted in the dicky of the scooter. Then he hailed a taxi and returned to Al-Hussaini.
At about 11 a.m., Parvez Shaikh, Asgar Mukadam and his cousin Shoaib Ghansare, who had been roped in to help, set off for Anwar Theba’s house at Turner Road, Bandra, in a Maruti van with the three medium-sized suitcases, filled with RDX, which were meant for the hotels in the western suburbs—the Sea Rock, the Juhu Centaur and the Airport Centaur. Theba had already booked rooms in the three hotels and collected the keys for these on 11 March. They honked to alert Theba when they reached his house. Theba confirmed that they were carrying the three suitcases and then asked them upstairs. There they met Mushtaq Tarani, who had met with Tiger and some of his associates at the Taj Mahal Hotel. He was dressed in an expensive and well-cut suit, and looked every inch a businessman. He was to leave the suitcase at the Juhu Centaur.
The five set out again. Mushtaq was dropped off at Linking Road. Theba gave him the keys and the receipt for room 3078, booked in the name of Sanjeev Roy, as well as a light blue suitcase and some money. He told Mushtaq that the bomb was supposed to go off after about two-and-a-half hours. He also reminded Mushtaq to return the keys and receipt to him after depositing the suitcase. Mushtaq nodded and hailed a taxi to his destination. Parvez was dropped off further down the road.
Juhu Centaur, facing the beach, was regarded as one of the finest hotels in Bombay’s western suburbs and was very popular with business travellers from all over the world. Mushtaq entered the foyer and hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the suitcase. He decided to go straight to the room, but had difficulty finding it, and had to seek help from the hotel staff. His broken English, he felt, would seem suspicious given his sophisticated appearance. Beads of sweat dotted his face as he followed a bellboy to his room. The bellboy went through a long introductory spiel, explaining the various facilities to him and then lingered on hopefully for a tip. When he finally left, Mushtaq immediately looked around for a place to hide the suitcase. The space between the bed and the bedside table seemed the most suitable, so he placed it there. It could not be seen unless one looked carefully. Mushtaq took one last look at the suitcase, and then left the room and strode rapidly down the corridor. He took the lift downstairs and hail
ed a taxi to go to Al-Hussaini. It was 11.35 a.m.
While Mushtaq was looking for his room in Juhu Centaur, Shoaib Ghansare dropped off Theba at the portico of Hotel Airport Centaur at Santacruz, located near the domestic terminal of the airport. He had booked Room 157 there in the name of Rajkumar Saxena. His dour visage and air of being in a hurry discouraged the hotel staff from exchanging pleasantries. Room 157 was on the first floor, and Theba took the stairs, refusing to wait for the lift.
Anwar Theba
He barely managed to stop himself from breaking into a run when he saw the door of his room. As he slid the key into the door, a room service waiter who had come out from the adjoining room offered to help him with his suitcase. Theba simply glared at him and entering the room, shut the door on his face. He looked around the room, debating where to hide the suitcase, and finally opted for the wardrobe. He stood it inside and shut the door.
The moment he finished doing this, he rushed to the bathroom to relieve himself. He left the hotel in haste as well, jumping into a taxi before it had fully come to a halt. He asked the driver to take him to Mahim. The time was 11.40 a.m., and the third bomb had been planted.
The final hotel bomb was deposited by Parvez who had also dropped at Linking Road with the suitcase which he was to leave in Suite 1840 at Hotel Sea Rock, booked by Dominic D’Souza for Advani of Gorakhpur Metals. Parvez took an autorickshaw to the hotel, one of the most luxurious in the city. He asked a bellboy in the ornate lobby to show him to his room, but had difficulty keeping up with the man as he was so mesmerized by the paintings and chandeliers. He was shown to his room on the eighteenth floor.