Apparently, while behind bars, Tarannum had bonded well with actress Preeti Jain, who was her cellmate. Preeti, who had stirred a hornet’s nest after she had alleged that Bollywood director Madhur Bhandarkar had raped her, was also serving time in the same jail. She had been charged for allegedly hiring gangster Arun Gawli’s hitman to kill the director. The actress spent around thirteen days with the bar girl in the same cell, before she was bailed out. Months after her release, she signed a lead role in the low-budget film titled Deepa ki Tarannum, a movie on a bar dancer, which in Preeti’s words was inspired by ‘her friend in jail’.
Reminiscing about her days with the bar girl, Preeti told us that Tarannum had spent most of her time in the jail crying. According to Preeti, Tarannum was initially traumatised and frightened at the thought of being locked behind bars and would break down often. ‘As a human being, I could relate to her pain. I became a shoulder for her to cry on,’ Preeti said.
Later, the duo bonded really well and became comfortable in each other’s company. As Preeti said, ‘During those few days I spent with her, we played board games, ate food and also watched television together.’ The starlet maintained that Tarannum was no run-of-the-mill bar dancer. She claimed that Tarannum was extremely beautiful and not only well-groomed but well-spoken. ‘People have this preconceived notion about bar girls being crass. Tarannum was anything but that. The best part is that she did not regret being a bar dancer or care about the stigma that the job brought with it.’
In March 2008, Tarannum was again in the news after she approached the I-T department and demanded all the money it had seized. However, both troubled and discomfited from being under the constant media glare, she left Mumbai for good and gradually faded into obscurity. Her current whereabouts are not known, but according to sources, she has relocated to Dubai and is supposedly catering to the rich and elite there.
As for Deepa Bar and Restaurant, the absence of its star performer and the ban on dance bars changed its fortunes forever. One of the most notorious night hubs in its heyday, the 4,500-square feet property is now being converted into a haven of spirituality, with a yoga and medical centre being planned there.
ARCHANA SHARMA ALIAS MANISHA
Her face was the epitome of innocence; her tears broke a hundred hearts and her performances moved a million. She was the face of Ujjain’s annual Ram Leela performance as the goddess Sita. However, no one knew when their Sita decided to swap roles with one of the Ramayan’s most demonic characters and decided to play Ravan in real life.
Archana Balmukund Sharma took the underworld by storm as she executed several sensational murders, kidnappings and extortions, to become one of India’s most wanted female gangsters. Considered a close confidante of gangster Babloo Srivastav and branded the ‘lady don with killer looks’ by the Pune Mirror, Archana used her sex appeal and resemblance to Bollywood actress Manisha Koirala to entrap businessmen and hoteliers alike. Hers is the story of the transformation of a well-educated innocent girl from Madhya Pradesh into a hard-boiled criminal, who was willing to go the extra mile to make a quick buck and enjoy a lavish lifestyle.
The eldest of four children, Archana was born in the town of Ujjain in Madhya Pradesh on 17 November 1975. She belonged to a lower-middle class family but her father Balmukund Sharma, a former platoon commander of the Home Guard, made certain she received a good education. As a young girl, Archana was known to be affable, talented and creative. She spent most of her time painting and participating in cultural activities in Ujjain, and never missed the annual Ram Leela that was conducted by Mouni Baba (the eminent saint of Malwa).
After finishing her higher secondary education from Central School, Archana joined the BA course at Vikram University in Ujjain. She dropped out after her first year however, and was recruited by the state police. The news of her recruitment into the police force brought great pride to the family but the excitement did not last long. Six months later, much to her family’s disappointment, she quit the job because of the rigorous working hours. She then left home and moved to Bhopal, in search of a more exciting life.
In Bhopal, Archana was employed by Som Distilleries Private Ltd as a receptionist. While working there, she befriended several Congress and Bharatiya Janata Party MLAs and was also accused of having a brief affair with a BJP MLA. Archana used this exposure to perfect her manners and polish her language skills.
Right from her Ram Leela days, Archana had harboured the desire to become a Bollywood actress. This aspiration finally brought her to Mumbai—the heart of Bollywood— in the early 1990s. She used the pseudonym Manisha Agarwal and tried to sell herself as the lookalike of actress Manisha Koirala. But in Bollywood, where clones don’t find success easily, Archana ended up sharing the same fate of many other strugglers like her.
Her brief flings with small-time actors and directors also failed to help her get film roles. Disillusioned and disappointed, Archana took all the odd jobs she got in the film and television industry. She eventually ended up in an orchestra that performed in the Gulf. Though the job paid her well, it did not give her the lifestyle she desired.
Then in 1994, Archana got her first prize catch. She was in Dubai as part of pop singer Baba Sehgal’s troupe, when she met businessman Pritam Miglani from Ahmedabad. Archana managed to woo Pritam, who succumbed to her wiles and helped her get a resident’s visa in Dubai. He also assisted her in opening a garment store in Sharjah. The couple got engaged in Ujjain and decided to get married in Dubai.
But the wedding never took place as the couple parted ways acrimoniously. Archana shifted to Mumbai once again and re-established ties with her family. However, after failed attempts to get good work, she returned to Dubai. Her destiny was shaped by that very move.
During her stay in Dubai, her path crossed that of gangster Irfan Goga, a former Anees Ibrahim aide. Archana, who was instantly attracted to his opulent lifestyle, did not have any qualms about becoming his mistress. Goga, in turn, put her up in a flat and introduced her to several of his criminal friends, including Chhota Rajan’s right hand Om Prakash, alias Babloo Srivastav.
Archana managed to charm her way into Babloo’s heart and he decided to train her into becoming a perfect criminal. She did not disappoint him. Babloo was madly in love with her, while she needed him to further her own plans. Together, the couple made a lethal combination. It is from here that her tumultuous journey in the world of crime took off.
After a few months in Dubai, the couple fled to Nepal where Babloo was soon arrested and deported to India. Archana followed her mentor to India, where he made arrangements for her to live in Sunlight Colony, New Delhi. She had wasted no time in becoming a vital cog in Babloo’s business as she started executing orders ruthlessly, often luring unsuspecting kidnap victims with the charm that once failed to get her into showbiz.
Archana carried out her first independent operation in 1998, using the assumed name Salma. With the help of Babloo’s gang, she masterminded the kidnapping of hotelier Lala Vyas and collected a huge ransom. The Delhi police, however, was tipped off about the plot and raided her apartment where they found and confiscated several automatic rifles. They were also able to get details of the gang’s earlier operations, which included the kidnapping of another wealthy hotelier. Through Lala Vyas, the police also learnt that Archana was plotting the kidnapping of several businessmen in Delhi.
She was also wanted by the Mumbai police for the sensational kidnapping of builder R.D. Vyas—the only time that Archana actually involved herself in the execution of a plan. The operation had been carried out with the help of two others belonging to Babloo’s gang but it was Archana who had contacted Vyas. She told him that his friend in Dubai had sent some goods for him and asked if he could meet her at a hotel. Once there, she used her acting prowess and good looks to persuade him that the goods were at her residence, and to accompany her there. Vyas literally walked into the trap and was only released after his family paid Rs 4 crore as ransom.
> Archana was finally arrested, and later let out on bail, which she promptly jumped. The police arrested some of her gang members, but ‘Madame X’—as the police referred to her—remained elusive.
In April 1998, four of her associates were killed in Indore after they had collected a ransom of Rs 30 lakh from a small-time trader, Jagdish Modi Ramani. Archana, who was in the city planning the operation, ran away and managed to evade arrest.
These close shaves did not deter Archana. She stopped visiting her family as the police was watching them. And, after the one time when she had been part of the execution of a plan, she never made that mistake again. Like her mentor Babloo, she just chose the target and planned the operation but never participated in the actual act. Her strategy helped in keeping her out of harm’s way. In December 1998, Archana and her gang planned to kidnap another industrialist in Kolkata, but the Uttar Pradesh police got wind of it and tracked them to Park Street in Kolkata. Four gangsters were killed in the shootout, but Archana, who was at a nearby hotel, got away. Within minutes of the shootout, she was on board a plane to Nepal, where she stayed till the situation had calmed down. The police had missed its chance again.
Archana continued to come up with plots to kidnap other businessmen. She was also suspected to have been behind the attempted kidnapping of businessman Babubhai Singhvi in Kutch and the kidnapping of exporter Gautam Adani in Ahmedabad.
Archana was also notorious for how she used men to get what she wanted. While she was in a relationship with Babloo, she had a brief affair with kidnapper Fazal-ur-Rehman, alias Fazloo. She is said to have plotted the murder of Pune businessman and petrol pump owner Sagar Ladkat along with Fazal.
According to the police, Ladkat was returning to his house in Koregaon Park from his Somwar Peth petrol pump on the night of 22 May 1998, when members of the Fazal-ur-Rehman gang intercepted his car and whisked him away to Kondhwa. He was hacked to death there and his mutilated body was abandoned in his car. Investigations later revealed that Archana had masterminded the crime, although it remained unconfirmed why the victim was killed.
Even though Archana continued to have brief flings, she remained the jewel in Babloo’s crown. The gangster was so possessive about her that he could not tolerate anyone else getting close to her. Former Nepal minister Mirza Dilshad Beg of the Rashtriya Prajatantra Party paid a huge price for his alleged closeness to Archana. After Babloo was deported from Nepal, Beg apparently became very close to Archana, which infuriated the gangster. Babloo suspected that the minister had not helped prevent his deportation as he wanted Archana all to himself. In June 1998, Beg was killed by Chhota Rajan gangsters while he was on his way home after visiting his wife in Kathmandu.
There was a rumour that Archana was shot dead in Nepal in May 2010, after she conned some drug traffickers. The Pune Mirror, however, reported that she was killed by rivals who were on her trail in Nepal, where she had been hiding for over two years. Still others claim that she is just lying low for the time being perhaps plotting her next big crime.
*Published in the Mumbai Mirror, 15 September 2005
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
S
oon after we took up the task of writing this book, we realised that the world was full of generous and helpful people whose support made this project not only possible but so much more easier.
Our foremost thanks are reserved for my editor-in-chief, Ram Reddy, of the Deccan Chronicle. I am grateful to Ram for giving me the professional latitude to venture ahead in writing the book.
We owe the completion of this book to our colleague at The Asian Age, Karan Pradhan. We started this project in March last year but realised that it had barely moved forward even six months later. It was then that Karan, with his myriad talents, offered to help in the expeditious completion of the project. With his unmatchable understanding of editing, Karan gave some much-needed impetus to our crawling project. He became our sounding board, co-strategist, ideator, editor and also wore several more hats. In the end, if the stories looked good, it was because of his work. We would both like to express our heartfelt thanks to Karan. Thank you, Karan ... we are glad that you were associated with the book.
My editor at Westland, Deepthi Talwar, a young and bubbly girl, convinced me to pen a book on women criminals and did not relent until I was persuaded to compile one. She remained patient and painstakingly put up with my ways, to ensure that the book went to print.
While the book encapsulates the lives of only thirteen women, their stories have been narrated and fleshed out with the help of several others. We will always be indebted to them for helping us ensure the book saw the light of day. Jenabai’s story mainly came from her eldest daughter, Khadija Darwesh, and an article from the renowned Urdu tabloid Akbhaar-e-Alam. While we’d like to thank Khadija for throwing some light on her mother, our sincere thanks also goes out to former chief reporter of the daily, The Urdu Times, Suhas Bhiwankar, veteran journalist Shakeel Rashid of Urdu Times, police historian Deepak Rao and Adil Bhesadia, for helping us align the sequence of events in Jenabai’s life. We would also like to thank the Indian Express principal correspondent Anita Nair who provided us with vital information about Vardharajan, his devotion to the Muslim saint and his life through her journalistic sources and interviews with his family. The rest of the story was put together after interviewing her neighbours and other sources, who preferred not to be mentioned. We would also like to thank retired Crime Branch officers like Madhukar Zende and Ishaq Bagwan, who opened several doors of information for us.
Gangubai’s account came from Suhas, who made us walk miles and miles in the red light district of south Mumbai, since he was just too restless to sit at one place and talk. But we must admit that Gangubai’s story was worth the walk. Suhas provided interesting nuggets of information, which helped in building the narrative of our story. We would also like to thank senior inspector Shamsher Pathan of the Pydhonie police station. Pathan saab was of immense help, as he introduced us to several locals at Kamathipura. I must also thank my old contact Rafeeq Lala, who agreed to talk to me and give me vast information on Gangubai’s close bond with the Pathan ganglord Karim Lala.
The most difficult story was that of Ashraf Khan, alias Sapna didi. Her daring tale came by me by accident, and for this, I must thank my friend and author of Sacred Games, Vikram Chandra. Vikram and I met gangster Hussain Sheikh, alias Ustara, as part of our research for Vikram’s book. It is during this time that Ustara opened up and started talking about Sapna didi. Since I was taking down the notes, I managed to put her story together. Vikram later mentioned his brief encounter with Ustara in his article, titled ‘The Cult of Authenticity’, which was published in The Boston Review. Thank you, Vikram, for allowing me to use this interesting anecdote in my book.
Sapna didi’s story was also authenticated by some Crime Branch officers and police officers from the Nagpada police station. We also got some insight on Ustara and Sapna didi’s relationship from Asif and Feroz (full names withheld at their request).
Our fourth story was about drug mafia queen Mahalaxmi Papamani. During my days of crime reporting at the Indian Express in 1997,1 had written extensively about the Papamani menace. However, I must say that Jane Borges’ work was a revelation to me. She diligently pieced Papamani’s story together after meeting narcotics lawyer Ayaz Khan and several officers of the Narcotics Control Bureau and Anti-Narcotics Cell,
Our sincere thanks to all the senior officers of the NCB, and officers from Azad Maidan who wished to remain unnamed. We would also like to thank senior officer Dilip Shrirao, Girish Koende of the ANC, inspector Arun Kumar Aigal and Central Excise inspector Mallika Pattabhiraman for helping us source the right contacts.
Some of the information for our story came from drug peddlers. While it is not possible to name all of them, Jyoti Adiramlingam and her daughter Asha Yadav of Reay Road were our primary sources, in addition to the twenty-odd women who were rounded up the ANC and exclusively interviewed by Jane wh
ile they did time in the Azad Maidan lock-up.
But our heartfelt thanks are reserved for Ayaz Khan and DNA court correspondent Menaka Rao. We would also like to mention the contribution made by our friend Tess Joss and journalist friend Arundhati Pattabhiraman of The Asian Age. Both of them took risks and showed exemplary courage when they accompanied Jane on one of her several visits to Jyoti and Papamani’s hide-outs.
The last of the five main chapters was on Monica Bedi. The treatment of Monica’s story was tricky. It was difficult to compile the story of a reluctant subject like her. Despite repeated assurances that we would do justice to her story, Monica remained adamant and refused to talk to us. Fortunately, the Central Bureau of Investigation officers like deputy superintendent of police Raman Tyagi and Retd. DSP Devendra Pardesi, both of whom had worked on the case, came to our rescue. They helped us plug the loopholes in Monica’s story by sharing with us previously unknown information.
However, we would especially like to thank Jigna Vora of The Asian Age. She gave us access to reams and reams of documents on Monica to ensure accuracy in our storytelling. Jigna also provided us with the romantic letters that Monica wrote to Salem while she was locked up in the Lisbon jail. Exercising our discretion, we only culled specific information and refrained from revealing anything that would make our narrative salacious or sensational. In the process, we also referred to interviews Monica had given to magazines like Outlook, Showtime and newspaper articles in The Asian Age, Mid-Day, Times of India, Mumbai Mirror and PTI. We also referred to videos from reality television show Bigg Boss 2 that are now in the public domain. But the icing on the cake was the article by senior editor, Lakshmi Govindrajan, for the Heartitude column of The Asian Age, The article was immensely helpful in ensuring that we did not falter in expressing Monica’s emotions in our story. I would also like to thank my Spanish friend Professor Dora Sales. She helped us translate Portuguese work related to Monica’s incarceration. Thank you Dora, for replying to our queries when we needed your inputs the most.
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