Fiction: A chance meeting with an underworld don in 1970s Bombay changes Sikandar’s life

It was in the early nineties that India saw the emergence of compact disc (CD) systems, which revolutionised the audio business worldwide. Music was recorded onto the discs using lasers. Bush India had launched the country’s first CD player, assembled from components supplied by an undisclosed Japanese manufacturer. The CD system was sold for Rs 10,500. For good measure, Bush threw in a conventional cassette recorder and radio, too. After all, the market was still at a nascent stage. Soon, Videocon, in collaboration with Toshiba, launched a CD player priced at seven thousand rupees. The only problem was they didn’t have the government’s clearance to manufacture CDs. In the absence of recording facilities, the music companies used Hong Kong as a base. Most people brought CDs whenever they travelled abroad. At the time, the number of CDs in the country was around 35,000. The 250% import duty on disc players was a major hassle. The manufacturers, though, expected a dramatic growth in the next five years. In the world of corporate giants, CEOs and market analysts, it was Fakira who spotted the huge opportunity. He was not one to wait for government clearances. It was like a whole new gold mine waiting to be discovered. Using cargo ships, he started smuggling in audio CDs and systems worth lakhs into Bombay to be sold throughout the country. These were distributed in trucks carrying vegetables. The craze for CDs outdid the craze for audio cassettes. Fakira was the only underworld boss minting money at the time in Bombay. By now, crime boss Varadarajan Mudli had passed away in Chennai. Baba Mastan was keeping a low profile as a real estate developer. Dilshad Ibrahim had escaped the clutches of the Bombay Police and set up a base abroad. Many small gangs operating in the city, mostly involved in kidnapping for ransom, extortion rackets and contract killings. The time of smugglers was long gone, but Fakira continued his business of audio and video cassettes, and now audio CDs. The era of sophisticated dons had ended. A ruthless and brash brand of gangsters had mushroomed, who had to be cut to size with an equal lack of mercy. It was also the beginning of the corporate underworld, where people kept guns in their drawers and earned money through investments. The bloodbath saw the Bombay Police unleash an encounter squad. One by one, the underworld’s sharpshooters were hunted down. The police crackdown saw the gangsters call for peace and even divide their areas of operation. Fakira was the only one who stood tall, thanks to his connections in the Bombay Police, and with politicians and bureaucrats. This was the time when a young Indian Police Service (IPS) officer, Assistant Commissioner of Police (ACP) Andre Shackelton, came in as the head of the Crime Branch. He was the son of Emmanuel Shackelton who had been killed by Dilshad Ibrahim. Dilshad, however, had sent a message to Andre Shackelton that Fakira was responsible for his father’s death. Shackelton had been waiting patiently for the day he would put a bullet in Fakira’s head. The police had already given him a free hand to rein in the underworld. Shackelton brought together a team of tough encounter specialists who had killed over fifty gangsters in the city. He gave them strict instructions to clean up the streets, but with no arrests. The only exception was Fakira, whom he wanted to kill with his own hands. A few police officers told Shackelton that Fakira’s main business was smuggling and that he never indulged in killings or extortion. Shackelton shouted at them. “He killed a senior police officer, Emmanuel Shackelton, my father! Yet you let him roam freely in the city. I’ll put a bullet in his head, the same way he shot my father,” he yelled. Fakira was unable to understand why Shackelton was after him until he met Sikandar for tea at their favourite Irani restaurant. Sikandar told him about Shackelton’s father and that Andre Shackelton was now the head of the Crime Branch. Incidentally, Shackelton was the same boy who used to bully Sikandar in school, and Fakira had beaten him up and burnt his motorcycle. “B***n***d! The boy has come back to exact revenge!” Fakira exclaimed. Sikandar also showed him one of Shackelton’s interviews in a newspaper. “Andre believes that you killed his father, Emmanuel Shackelton. That is why he is after you,” he told Fakira. “But it was Dilshad who killed him!” Fakira was shocked. “He has gone mad and will destroy my business. You know him since school. Can you try and convince him?” “Are you f**k**g crazy, Fakira?” Sikandar said. “I’ll be put under the radar as a part of your gang. The police might even be watching me sitting here with you. Andre will come after me.” “So, what should I do?” Fakira asked. “Should I put a hit on ACP Shackelton?” “Oh c**t**e! If you get the ACP killed, the entire Bombay Police will be on your ass,” Sikandar cautioned. “You said it was Dilshad who killed his father?” “Yes, I’m sure.” Sikandar nodded thoughtfully and said, “You will have to find solid evidence to prove it was Dilshad. Maybe then Andre will let you go.” Fakira looked confused. “He is out to kill me! Do you think he will be convinced?” “If you point him towards the real killer, I’m sure he will change his direction.” Just then, a police jeep stopped outside the restaurant. Fakira looked at Senior Inspector (SI) Sugreev Nayak, a fierce encounter specialist on ACP Andre Shackelton’s team, walk into the restaurant. “Sikandar, you better leave,” SI Nayak said. Sikandar didn’t linger. SI Nayak sat at a table close to Fakira. He spoke without looking at him. “ACP Shackelton has promised me a promotion if I report you. What should I do, Fakira? I have a family to take care of.” “I am planning to give your family a sea-facing flat in Worli,” Fakira offered. “But I need all the information the Crime Branch has before that happens.” With that, Fakira got up and walked out towards his white Mercedes, which was once owned by Baba Mastan. He knew there were police informers watching him, but his men were watching them and guarding him. Excerpted with permission from The Perception Game: A Glitzy Adventure, Shailendra Singh and Mahendra Jakhar, HarperCollins India.