‘At Chharanagar, I trained my members who placed their hopes on me, as Guddu had gone astray and spoiled his name. I would leave home by 8 am and return by 8 pm, and whenever I searched for Guddu, I couldn’t find him. My father’s imprisonment worried me.
‘The days passed by and I worked hard for VD. To prove my worth and thank them for their help, I learnt and executed their jobs proficiently. I also kept pleading for my father’s acquittal, and they convinced me they would arrange it. A month later, Sunilbhai confirmed the cash arrangement.
“Ramubhai has given the order to pay the MLA tonight and discharge your father,” said Sunilbhai. My eyes sparkled, and cheeks shined. I touched my heart and leaned against a wall. Tears streamed out. My loyal spirit and thankfulness for Ramubhai, Sunilbhai and VD crossed all limits. I visited the station and informed my father. And to my mother at home. We slept in happiness.
‘The next day, I hurried to the office and waited for Sunilbhai. He came at 11 am. With a grim face, he headed to his cabin, staring at the floor. I ran to him and asked, “Did you meet the MLA last night, Saheb? When will they release my father?”
“He is a pig, Vicky. A chameleon.” He clenched his teeth and pushed himself back on his chair.
“Why? What happened?”
“I offered 10 lakhs...” Sunilbhai hit the table with his closed fist, “but the bastard rejected it. He wants full 13 lakhs for settlement.”
‘I gaped... Bloody hypocrite. How polite the MLA behaved with me in jail! He agreed to free us against his valuables, but now flashed his true colour and was harassing us for money. I held my head with one hand and pressed my abdomen with another. How could I ask Sunilbhai or Ramubhai to arrange 13 lakhs rupees? They did everything as promised. The opposition Muslim MLA was a thorn in my throat. I wept.
“I informed Ramubhai, and he too regretted it. Ramubhai spoke to Irfan but he said the MLA would settle with money or punish the thieves. I must be in power to handle these rascals,” said Sunilbhai, and covered his face with his hands.
‘I wrapped my arms over my chest and dropped my head. I decided to approach Hamid Saheb.
“I’ll meet him and request for settlement.”
“No. Never meet him. You are too young to understand. He’ll put you behind bars. Write my words on a blank paper,” he said.
‘I concluded that the Muslim MLA was a devil, and Ramubhai, Sunilbhai and VD were my saviours.
‘I lived in distress and faced the most horrible phase of my life. Sufferings multiplied as my brother fell ill due to over-consumption of country liquor. The doctors suggested surgery, costing lakhs of rupees. Death was cheaper and hence he died.
‘The police proceeded with their case. The Court declared my father guilty and sentenced him to seven years of imprisonment. I hugged him and sobbed. The cops bundled him into the van that took him to prison. Tears flowed like a stream, while I stared at his departure. On the Court campus, I vowed to take revenge on that Muslim MLA at any cost. Sunilbhai witnessed it. He consoled me and said,
“Life will give you an opportunity. Use your anger at the right time.”
‘He dropped me home and stayed for a few minutes. “Don’t worry. We’ll try our best to free your father,” he said and comforted me. He left, suggesting I rest.’
Chapter—15
Everyone is a Criminal
‘I experienced a difficult phase. With my brother dead and my father in prison. I felt guilty and stifled that my guiding spirit was jailed for my misdeed.
‘I played a dual personality. Chharas perceived me as an epitome of courage who fought against the devilish society. I was an idol who broke the stereotypes and succeeded in every endeavour. I became their source of hope and survival. But from within, I was shattered. I was a daring Don who was recognised and admired by the crime world, but he was scared for his parents.
‘Life progressed, and I took control over the VD activities. With my dominance established, people feared me and my tribe revered. I garnered a tremendous enmity for all Muslims. Not my fault, Zaheer. The seeds of hatred planted by the selfish as well as my own circumstances, overpowered me.’
‘What do you mean by seeds of hatred?’ asked Zaheer.
‘See, every organisation runs on a strategy. VD is a political gateway to MPP and it operated on people’s emotions. VD targeted a majority community, and to influence them, discriminated with the minorities. Every day, they fed me small doses of ill doings by Muslims. Though I disapproved of it, I accepted it due to my job environment.’
‘It is your ignorance and negligence. Why do you blame your surroundings?’ asked Zaheer.
‘Because the people around me forced it upon me. I had no authority or concern to study, identify, and penalise the real culprit, only to execute my tasks. If they ordered me to act against Muslims, I performed my duty.’
‘Hmm. You believe Muslims are innocent?’ asked Zaheer.
‘Hah. Not all. Definitely, not all. I faced a few who got on my nerves. They were a burden on this planet. I met a few disgusting, disrespectful, arrogant, characterless and shameless Muslims. But I also dealt with compassionate, humble, honest, lively, and humane among them who helped shape my judgement of them as a whole.
‘Zaheer, five fingers are never the same. Every religion, caste, culture, nation, region or group contains a mix of honest and corrupt, humble and arrogant, kind and ruthless, saviours and destroyers. There are good Samaritans as well as predators in every category. We hear stories of success and crime from around the world. It is people who commit wrong, and therefore absurd to hold a tribe responsible for the actions of a few.
‘How do you defend that? Name me a place, culture, religion, country, or a group that has no criminals and is free from crime?’ Zaheer rubbed the back of his neck. His forehead wrinkled as he gazed at the ground.
‘To be honest, every individual, society, nation, or group commits wrongdoings. Think about it. Everybody is a criminal.’ Violating a woman, cheating in business, stealing, woman or child trafficking, dowry, kidnapping, extortion, throwing the parents out of the house, assaulting the weak, property manipulations, suppressing the helpless, murder, rapes and whatnot. These crimes occur daily across the world and around us, but nobody cares.’
‘Hmm. A harsh reality, if only we examine ourselves,’ he said and nodded. ‘Well, what happened to Guddu?’
‘Oh, that bloody scoundrel,’ I said and stretched. ‘A neighbour came to me once with some information. “Guddubhai has joined a narcotic gang. He visits a brothel daily, comes home by late night, and wakes up by 10 am.”
‘Once, late at night, we met at the Chharanagar entrance. We glared at each other. He was drunk. With his nostrils flaring, he slurred, “So you are out of jail, bastard. You can’t take my place. I’ll succeed my father to lead Chharanagar.”
‘I had no interest in leadership. I reminded him of his treachery. “Chharas don’t backstab their tribesmen, but you did.”
“What backstab, huh? If you come in my way, I’ll stab you in the front.”
“As if I am wearing bangles, huh?”
‘Guddu took out a dagger and flashed it to me. His eyes burning with hatred. “You want to live and take care of your parents?” he asked, grinding his teeth.
“You threatening me? Bloody scum. My respect for your father saves you. Else I would have broken your bones by now.”
‘Guddu fumed, “You don’t know me yet. Don’t come in my way or I’ll chop you into pieces.”
“Ay motherfucker. My betrayal account is pending and I’ll settle it at an appropriate time. You wait for it.”
“Ha- ha-ha. Fuck off, you bastard,” he slurred. He showed his middle finger and staggered ahead.
‘I stared at his back. Questions ran through my mind. What made my best friend turn into my enemy? Because I forced him to give up lust and join me for a robbery? The insult of getting scolded in front of fellow tribesmen? People comparing him with my achievements and behaviour? H
is misunderstanding of my leadership claim? Or the respect I enjoyed more than him? Whatsoever, the useless reasons caused sheer wastage of energies. We could do wonders together but were apart and prone to manipulations by outside forces.
‘The year 2001 ended. I met my father twice weekly, and every Sunday took my mother along. By the year-end, I mastered my works and Guddu excelled in his. He worked for the Progressive League, and I served VD, the affiliate of Modern Political Party. His job dealt with narcotics supply and hawala deals. I handled many ventures. At work, I executed many tasks against Muslims.
‘At Chharanagar, people wished for my leadership and it aggravated Guddu’s jealousy. Once my best friend, Guddu could no longer bear my sight nor my name.
‘The Chhara homes are unregistered and therefore prone to evacuation. In December 2001, Vivek Uncle requested me, “Vicky, you are close to the VD bosses. Propose to them our house registration issue, na?”
‘I sought Sunilbhai’s help. He said, “Do you know our plan, Vicky? Besides Chharanagar, we wish to grant Naroda Patia properties to the Chharas.” I gaped at him, surprised at his words. “But those Muslims won’t budge,” he said. He sipped some water and wiped his lips. “That same MLA supports them and insists on their ownership. If we propose Chharanagar registration, the Naroda Patia supporters will claim theirs. It’ll result in fighting.” He stared at me for some time and then said, “Better to be quiet on this matter. You keep this in mind. If you can somehow evacuate Naroda Patia, we will sanction both the properties to the Chharas,” he said, and left for a meeting.
‘A wave of satisfaction passed through my body. An excellent opportunity to serve my community blossomed into my mind. Providing ownership of two localities was the best service to offer to the Chharas. But it was not a simple job.
‘Muslims have lived in Naroda Patia for years. Any attempt to disturb them could lead to unrest. But the thought remained in my mind along with the seeds of hatred. At the office, people often debated Naroda Patia’s allocation to the Chharas. I too dreamt of it, unaware of the reality.
‘The coming weekend VD hosted an important meeting at their Liberty Resorts. Sunilbhai called me to deliver a few files, and I reached the resort. At the door, I heard a member screaming inside the conference hall. I waited.
“That newspaper has damaged my reputation. Those rascals have branded me as the best agent for any government sanction against a bribe. They trapped me in a sting operation and are now challenging me to reply. Bloody hell.”
‘I heard the table being banged.
“Am I their servant to answer them?”
“Of course, Ramubhai. We are public servants,” chuckled a man and laughter echoed.
“Get serious. We’ve lost the municipal elections. Bloody voters are questioning us on progress and prosperity.”
“Relax, Ramubhai. Who cares for such exposures? And our constituency people are sentimental, so why should we bother? You calm down.”
I knocked on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Vicky, Saheb. Sunilbhai has called me.”
“Come in, Baka.”
‘I went in and handed the files to Sunilbhai.
“Vicky, Gaurang has a parcel at our office. Please bring it,” he said.
“OK, Saheb.”
‘I rushed to headquarters and returned with a packet. I knocked on the door and informed of my arrival.
“Come in,” said a voice.
‘I entered and found a training class in progress. Sunilbhai gestured to me to sit in the corner.
‘A well-dressed executive was giving a presentation on “How to win elections.” He displayed various charts, diagrams, and statistics on the projector screen. I gaped at him while he explained about the Indian belief system, the God-fearing people, and their emotional manipulations. “The best and easiest method is by invoking religious sentiments,” he concluded. The members clapped, and the session ended. I handed them the parcel and returned.
‘In February 2002, Sunilbhai desired to meet my team of Chhara boys. I took him to Chharanagar and assembled 4000 men. Delighted, he punched a fist in the air and beamed. His cheeks flushed as he raised his hands and cheered for them. He rubbed his hands with glee and grabbed me by my arms. He praised me, tapped my back and strutted back to the office.’
Chapter—16
The Ignition
‘On 27th February, the horrific attack on Hindu volunteers returning from a pilgrimage by train shook the nation. Suspected Muslim miscreants set fire to a bogie of Sabarmati Express near Godhra station. Irrespective of the provocation, the torching deserves the highest condemnation. The fire roasted the passengers, and justice will blaze the culprits, too. The media stormed all news channels with the news. Hatred and revenge overpowered human judgement.
‘At the office, Sunilbhai ordered me to collect as many Chhara men as I could. The victims’ burnt bodies arrived at Ahmedabad. The prominent members of VD ran around. Among the seething crowd, I found one man with wet and puffy eyes. He was Praveenbhai.
‘Ramubhai entered. “Jai Shree Ram” chants echoed.
‘Sunilbhai guided Ramubhai towards our group and whispered in his ears. “Vicky and me, Naroda Patia.” Ramubhai addressed us in a loud voice. “The time has come, my friends. For years, they dominated us. They have murdered our community men and we must avenge their death. From tomorrow morning, you ransack their lives. Go to Naroda Patia and kill every Muslim; rape their women and loot their valuables. Teach them a hard lesson. Gods will bless you, we will protect you, and reward you after the carnage. Destroy them, and we will gift the area to Chharas. Let tonight be their last. Let tomorrow be their end and a new birth for you. Go. Avenge our brothers’ deaths,” he said. He tightened his fists, screamed “Jai Shree Ram,” and threw his hands in the air.
‘Chhara men whooped, clasping and raising their hands in unison. A free hand to loot and enjoy, and the bonus of an extra property, thrilled them. Sunilbhai took over.
“We will explain the strategy to Vicky. The plan is simple. Do whatever you want. Destroy those bastards and earn rewards.” Chharas whooped again.
‘He called me to his cabin and instructed the details.
“Vicky, Naroda Patia is our responsibility, and we must erase it tomorrow. You bring 4000 men. We’ll make two groups; I’ll lead one, and you another. You enter from the main roadside, and I’ll guide them from the other end. The tools are ready: daggers, swords, metal rods, knives, trishuls and fuel cans. Attack their houses, enjoy their women, loot their valuables, and slaughter everyone. Don’t worry about anything. You understand? Now make the detailed plan yourself. Take them straight to their homes and instruct them to maintain secrecy. Tomorrow morning by 7, you all come here. Clear?” he said.
‘I stared with my brows raised, wondering over the massacre program. Sunilbhai approached me.
“Are you okay? Did you understand what I said?” He shook my shoulders and re-affirmed.
“Yes... Yes. Understood,” I said.
‘He opened a cupboard and picked up a wine bottle and glasses. “This is my favourite wine, TeeBee,” he said. “Anybody who gifts me TeeBee, deserves my best support.” He filled the glasses and offered me one. “Cheers. Cheers for the Chharas’ golden future.”
He sipped his drink with his cheeks in and gulped it. I drank, gazing at him. He rolled his tongue around his teeth and sucked them and smacked his lips. He opened the cupboard again and took out two 500 ml bottles of TeeBee wine.
“For you, my dear. A special gift from Sunil to Vikram. I gift a bottle only to extraordinary people... And I am gifting you two...” he said, handing over the bottles to me.
‘I left the office and visited Naroda Patia. I circled, evaluated the locality, and returned to Chharanagar. I divided men into two groups and discussed the massacre plan with them until late in the evening. “Keep this secret, okay. Assemble at the playground at 6 am tomorrow,” I said. They consented and dispersed into their
homes.
‘Sunilbhai arrived at Chharanagar and summoned me at the entrance.
“All set, Vicky?”
“Yes, Saheb,” I said.
“Fantastic. We are purchasing all liquor available in Chharanagar. Bring it to the office in the morning,” he said and left.
‘At my house, I alerted my mother about a new dawn. Her face muscles tightened. She recollected my similar comment before the jewellery theft, which had resulted in devastation. She insisted on details. I hinted on evacuating a locality, which will be granted to us. She squeezed her eyebrows and held my hand.
“Vicky, your father has taught you—Do not destroy what you cannot create. Do not harm anyone,” she said. I scratched my neck and bit my nails. My father’s words echoed in my mind. The spirit of destruction and my work loyalty battled with his preaching. The conflict continued, and it was quite late when I dozed off.
‘I woke up the next morning with the same hesitation in executing the atrocities. Why should we slaughter Naroda Patia residents? To revenge the coach burning, we must hammer those who murdered the pilgrims. Why penalise the innocent Naroda Patia people? They didn’t kill any pilgrim. But the seeds of hatred sowed in me were bearing fruit. The Muslim MLA’s harassment to punish my father took a toll on me. The incentive of area allocation to Chharas tempted me. The oppression we’ve suffered down the ages enraged me. And most important; I had to execute my duty as ordered. Severe dilemma clutched my mind.
‘By 6 am, the men gathered. The gatekeepers scowled at us. The dogs barked and growled. We hit them, shooed them away. Gaurang rushed in and carried away 2000 men and half the liquor boxes to another location. I left for office along with the rest of both.
‘The headquarter was surrounded with seething people. Sunilbhai greeted us. “Hare Ram, Hare Ram. Welcome to the day of judgement. Are you all ready for revenge?” he asked.
“Yes,” the guys answered in tandem. Sunilbhai noted my silence. He pulled me aside and whispered.
The Branded Criminal: In Search of Liberation Page 13
