Byculla to Bangkok

  Khatau realized that Naik could not be bribed or intimidated, so he decided to engineer his defeat in the next union elections. For this, he was even willing to use strong-arm tactics, including seeking an alliance with Arun Gawli. In the meantime, Khatau had already converted Shankarrao Jadhav, an aspiring union leader, into an ally. Jadhav, who was promised a great deal in return for toeing the Khatau line, seized the golden opportunity. But Khatau knew that Haribhau Naik could not be defeated easily as he was popular with the rank and file.

  There are no records of when and how Sunit Khatau landed at Dagdi Chawl, Arun Gawli’s den, which was just a stone’s throw away from Khatau mills. It was well-known that Gawli called the shots in Byculla and the surrounding areas. Khatau is said to have paid him an advance of Rs 3 crore and promised him 5 per cent of the sale price. Gawli is reported to have negotiated for 10 per cent.

  There is no record of officially computed numbers, but the approximate calculation by experts indicates that Khatau would have made Rs 500 crore. Gawli would have earned a cool Rs 50 crore, making him the richest ganglord in Mumbai. Land values in the mill area at that point were between 10 and 20 crore rupees an acre.

  Gawli began to work on the workers’ union. His first move was to plant his brother Vijay Ahir and nephew Sachin Ahir among the workers. Vijay and Sachin began to shadow Khatau as his personal bodyguard and aide-de-camp respectively. Groups of workers were threatened, bullied and intimidated and all ploys available were used to coerce the workers to sign a memorandum agreeing to shift the mill. The workers had been resisting in the hope that Haribhau would trounce Shankarrao Jadhav in the forthcoming elections. But, for the first time in the history of the Congress-controlled RMMS, Arun Gawli took over the union. In April 1994, workers’ representatives from fifty-four mills were forced to elect Jadhav as a puppet president and Gawli’s nephew, Sachin Ahir, as one of the secretaries.

  Once Shankarrao Jadhav replaced Haribhau Naik at RMMS, Vijay Ahir and Sachin Ahir managed to extract the much sought-after declaration, signed by the workers, allowing the sale of mill land and the shifting of the mill to another area. However, Khatau’s victory was short-lived.

  Union leader Dr Datta Samant and Haribhau Naik had sought the government’s intervention in the matter, which they felt could be a precursor to more such sales. The government, however, preferred to turn a blind eye.

  Darryl D’Monte, who documented the story of Mumbai’s mill land in Ripping the Fabric: The Decline of Mumbai and Its Mills, says, ‘According to reports, he (Khatau) had almost sewn up a contract with a construction company which was a front for the gang led by Dawood Ibrahim, who had set up base in Dubai. Dr Datta Samant made this allegation openly, saying the deal had been struck for Rs 400 crore. He said politicians and mill owners were responsible for the infiltration of criminal elements into unions.’

  It was not just Datta Samant and the mill workers who were worried about this development at Khatau mills. Amar Naik, too, was angry, for Gawli was all set to monopolize profits in what he considered was his fiefdom.

  In 1994, a gang earning a jackpot of Rs 50 crore could de facto run the city. Gawli’s political ambitions were known to Amar, who was worried about the amount of ammunition and the political clout that Gawli could buy with that kind of money. His own gang could be decimated.

  Amar Naik decided that Khatau could not get away without giving him a share of the pie. He made overtures to Gawli and began sending messages to Khatau.

  The mill owner, who had just survived one major crisis, was highly perturbed by Amar’s entry on the scene. He had not reckoned that he would have to concern himself with any other don after aligning with Gawli. Also, he had seen that in the past couple of years, Gawli had shrewdly neutralized all his detractors. Khatau was impressed with Gawli’s deployment of Vijay and Sachin to handle the sensitive issue of the workers, so he had no problem giving him a commission. But he did have problems giving money to Amar Naik. Just because the gangster happened to call the shots in the vicinity – the Chinchpokli and Currey Road areas – he didn’t need to get a cut, or so he thought.

  Khatau began discussing his options with Sachin and Vijay, his conduits to Arun Gawli. Gawli was in Yerawada jail at the time, managing to run the gang from behind bars as was the tradition. When the Ahirs conveyed Khatau’s fears to him, Gawli told them to tell Khatau to ignore Naik’s threats.

  Amar’s moles were closely watching these developments. They reported that Khatau had been seen visiting Dagdi Chawl at all hours. The Naik gang was getting desperate. Amar realized that Khatau had become evasive, refusing to respond to his messages.

  The gang members held a meeting and Amar Naik expressed his fear about Arun Gawli becoming numero uno in the underworld after the Khatau money came in. All the other gang members felt that if Khatau was not going to share the booty with them, they might as well stop Gawli from getting the money. It was decided that Khatau would have to be killed, if they were to put a brake on the Khatau-Gawli deal.

  Just as Naik had his moles in Dagdi Chawl, Gawli had his snitches in 144 Tenements in Chinchpokli, where Amar Naik held sway. When he heard that Naik had decided to kill Khatau and that they were staking him out already, Gawli decided to pre-empt the move by launching an assault on the Naik gang. He assigned the job to the dreaded Sadanand Pawle alias Sada Mama.

  Sada Pawle was an ambitious gangster who did not recognize the power or authority of anyone except Gawli. His recklessness and temerity were legendary; he did not believe in the power of persuasion or dialogue. He always carried a gun tucked under his belt, unlike other gangsters, who preferred to keep it in the small of their backs.

  Sada met his master Gawli at Yerawada jail and told him point blank that there was no point in killing the shooters of the Naik gang; he should be allowed to scalp the bosses. Gawli then gave the go-ahead to kill Amar. But Sada was more keen on killing Ashwin because Ashwin was responsible for the murder of Tanya Koli, who had been a close drinking buddy of his. In one stroke, he said, they would avenge Koli’s murder and get Amar Naik off Khatau’s back.

  Sada Pawle left Yerawada promising Gawli that he would derive undiluted pleasure from the killing of Ashwin Naik.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The Third Meeting

  By the time we meet Ashwin Naik for the third time, he has warmed up to us.

  Earlier, he oscillated between a grim smile and a raging temper, corresponding to the questions asked. Slowly, he is beginning to smile at most of the questions.

  He tells us that he enjoys travelling to Goa as the beaches and the weather there soothe him. He likes Scotch with plain water, a drink that he has every evening. He feels it helps him think. He also likes Urak, a local brew.

  ‘I like to wheel around the Shivaji Park area, it has a calming effect on me. I top it up with a Subway sandwich and salad.’

  We ask him if he has ever thought of writing a biography. He gives us a broad smile. ‘Kaun apne pairon pe kulhadi maarega?’ (Why would I want to chop off my own feet?) He suddenly gets worked up.

  ‘These media people keep speculating about me and my family,’ he says. In his opinion, the media has always portrayed him in a bad light, irrespective of the social work he does. He cites the example of a city tabloid that did a story about the possibility of his daughter getting married to the son of his one-time arch-rival, Arun Gawli.

  ‘Journalists should respect the privacy of an individual. My daughter and I had to call a press conference to counter the false story.’

  Ashwin tells us that the Mumbai police always thwarted his attempts at social work. They booked him in extortion and harassment cases even when he was merely helping people. ‘One fellow, Atul Potnis, duped me of Rs 6 crore in a supposed business investment. If I didn’t do anything to this person who made a fool out of me, why would I torture those whom I am trying to help?’

  It seems unbelievable that Ashwin would so easily forgive and forget a man who had cheated him of such a large
amount. With his academic background, why would he want to still be associated with the mafia, we wonder. He does not tell us much about it, but talks about other, related things.

  ‘I am very good with technology,’ he says. Naik and Kumar Pillai are the only two members of the mafia who are fluent in English and have had a good education. Naik can draw up strategies that put the shrewdest mind to shame.

  Though he is cagey, the ganglord makes one unexpected allowance: he shows us the bullet marks on his body. Ashwin is among the few gangsters in the city who has survived several attacks on him, and he cherishes the bullet marks like he would value trophies. He narrates to us the story behind each of them. But etched most clearly in his mind are memories of the day when Gawli’s men crippled him for life in an attack at the sessions court premises in 1994.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The Crippling Bullet

  Unlike the youth of previous generations, pounding the pavements and seeking out the government’s Unemployment Exchange for a placement, young people in the nineties had more opportunities. The decade slowly ushered in progress, with liberalization. Anybody with adequate qualification, survival instincts and the ability to outsmart the next person could find a job in the up-and-coming sectors, which thrived on competition. However, for those who grew up in the cotton mill areas of south Mumbai, jobs were still few and far between – especially because they did not have the means or resources to study beyond school. The 1982 strike had ripped apart the social fabric, the livelihoods, childhoods, relationships and mindsets of an entire generation.Youngsters were pulled out of school, jobless fathers took to alcohol, women deserted their husbands, and everybody was snapping at everybody else. Values and morals took a beating and youngsters were willing to do just about anything for some hard cash that would put food on the table.

  Ravindra Sawant was one such frustrated, jobless youth from Girangaon. He too had made several visits to the Employment Exchange offices in south Mumbai. An incomplete education meant he would forever remain on the waiting list, along with thousands of others, even for an unskilled job like that of a peon.

  After drifting around for more than two years, Sawant heard from a friend about the prospect of making money through the mafia. Upon further inquiry, he learned that one way he could earn a quick buck was by becoming a sharpshooter. If he swung the job, he could survive for at least a year.

  The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. His friend Anil Gavkar promised to introduce him to ‘Daddy’ Arun Gawli, the reigning don of central Mumbai.

  The pair travelled to Yerawada Central Jail, where Arun Gawli and Sada Pawle were serving time. They made a false entry in the jail register and met Gawli. As usual, Gawli had managed to get himself a special cell and was availing of several facilities which other prisoners could only dream of. He was known for holding grand meetings at his Dagdi Chawl residence, as though he were a king giving audience to his subjects, addressing their grievances. These were called ‘durbars’, a royal term used to refer to a ganglord’s meetings in a comparison that rang true in terms of power at least.

  After meeting Sawant, Gawli pointed him in Sada Pawle’s direction and explained how he should get in touch with him for assignments as Pawle was soon scheduled for release from prison. Sawant was extremely pleased with the meeting. It was as if he had met God himself. He now imagined a happy end to his days of unemployment. After Pawle was released, he summoned Sawant to Dagdi Chawl. Their meetings became regular and Pawle provided him with money for his daily expenses. Within the premises of Dagdi Chawl, Sawant met many like-minded people, one of whom was Nagesh Mohite. The two soon became friends and started visiting Dagdi Chawl together.

  One day, having received instructions from Gawli, Pawle called Sawant and Mohite and instructed them to eliminate Ashwin Naik. Ashwin had been arrested in the Tanya Koli murder case under TADA and was lodged at Adharwadi jail in Kalyan. He was regularly produced in the old building of sessions court No. 33 on the fifth floor. Pawle asked Mohite to conduct a thorough reconnaissance of Ashwin’s court schedule and the long procedures and formalities that accompanied the hearings.

  While Nagesh Mohite was busy trying to track the movements of the police personnel and Ashwin’s escort party, Sawant was getting some target practice in a room at Dagdi Chawl. Pawle had provided him with a gun, and Sawant began honing his skills as a shooter.

  Finally, the day arrived. It was 18 April 1994. Nagesh spotted Ashwin in the hall on the ground floor, waiting for his hearing. He was accompanied by constables Laxman Thorawat and Bhagyawan Nikam and commandoes Bhagwat Sondane and Sanjay Bhingardibe, who were armed with carbines. He raced back to Dagdi Chawl and informed Pawle that Ashwin was waiting and would be there for a long time before his hearing began. Pawle decided that this was the day to eliminate Ashwin. He gave Sawant a lawyer’s black coat and white shirt. He also gave him a gun, a few bullets and clear instructions: Sawant was to shoot Ashwin at point-blank range, straight in the head, and ensure that he was dead before running from the spot. If he could not escape, he should immediately drop his gun and surrender to the police to avoid being shot at. After the briefing, Sawant left for the sessions court.

  Mohite and Sawant entered court No. 33 and waited there for the hearing to begin. When Naik entered the court, Mohite pointed at him discreetly, giving Sawant visual confirmation of his identity.

  Sawant now waited for an opportunity to strike. He was not prepared for the number of people surrounding his target, and hunkered down for a long wait. Around 3 p.m., Ashwin and five other accused were produced in court. Unfortunately for Sawant, the case was almost immediately adjourned to 22 April 1994.

  Sawant had summoned all his courage for that day, but his target seemed to be dodging him. He watched as Naik, along with the other five, was taken to the ground floor. A van waited outside to take them back to Kalyan. Mohite started pressurizing Sawant, telling him to get Naik right then – or the opportunity would be lost forever. Sawant, who was already frustrated after waiting so long for a clear shot at Naik, ran downstairs and got to a spot in front of his target.

  No one paid any heed to Sawant in his lawyer’s attire as he stood behind a pillar. As Ashwin walked towards the pillar, Sawant aimed at his head but ended up shooting him in the neck. Ashwin, who was handcuffed, collapsed instantly and fell to the ground. Sawant, who wanted to make sure the job was completed, continued to fire at Ashwin. In the process, he got constables Thorawat and Nikam in their legs. While this was happening, Commando Bhagwat Sondane started firing in Sawant’s direction and all hell broke loose. Sondane fired more than twenty-five rounds from his carbine. Sawant was shot on the right side of his neck and he too fell down. Still, the boy continued firing.

  Meanwhile, Mohite took this opportunity to escape. By now, Sondane and Sawant were wrestling, rolling on the floor. Sondane snatched the gun from Sawant’s hands. The commotion attracted the attention of other officials present at the court. Inspector Ratan Singh Rathod and Bhagwat, who were present in the TADA court for another hearing, ran to the spot. Sawant was outnumbered and Rathod arrested him. He was bundled into the van that had been meant for his target, and taken into custody.

  Rathod ensured that Sondane, the main witness, was also in the van before taking Sawant to the Cuffe Parade police station. The Mumbai police have always had unresolved problems with the designated jurisdiction territory of various police stations. When Rathod’s team reached the Cuffe Parade police station, they were welcomed by the Mumbai police’s signature line on the issue of territory allocations: ‘Aamchya haddhit nahi aahe!’ (Not under our jurisdiction!) They were told to take Sawant to the Colaba police station. There, he was handed over to the duty officer, Ishaq Bagwan.

  Meanwhile, Ashwin and the other injured were rushed to St George Hospital at Victoria Terminus (VT). Ashwin was later shifted to J.J. Hospital on Sandhurst Road as his injuries were serious. But he was still alive by some miracle.

  Mohite rushed b
ack to Sada Pawle and told him what had happened. The police, who had recorded the statements of the escorting party and Sawant, could not take a statement from Ashwin as he was in no state to talk. Soon, officers from the crime branch and ACP Vasant Gosavi of Colaba division rushed to the site of the firing and ensured that a thorough panchnama of the crime scene took place. They got an FIR registered under TADA, which was still effective in those days. A quick examination of Sawant’s clothes produced five empty and one live cartridge still in the .38 revolver which he had used to fire at Ashwin Naik. His clothes were bloodstained and there were, of course, several eyewitnesses who could identify Sawant.

  Strangely, in his defence during the trial, Sawant retracted the statement of guilt he had made while in police custody. He said that he had actually been returning from the Employment Exchange after getting himself registered and somebody had fired the gun at his neck and he had fallen unconscious. The prosecution had no trouble knocking down all his claims and proved, very easily, that he had not been returning from the exchange and that he was present at the spot and was the main accused. Sawant was convicted for firing at Ashwin Naik and was given life imprisonment. He was released after 15 years in jail.

  Ashwin had to undergo treatment for a year-and-a-half. He was unable to provide any statement during this time. As soon as he was in a position to move around, he escaped from India. Gawli and Nagesh Mohite were acquitted; the prosecution was unable to prove that their actions amounted to conspiracy. Also, many witnesses turned hostile during the trial that lasted two years. The inexperienced gangster had managed to pull it off, albeit clumsily. It became his initiation into the world of crime.