Dongri to Dubai by S. Hussain Zaidi Read Free Book Online Page A

of illicit network to Sion-Koliwada, Dharavi, Chembur, Matunga, and some other areas to create a stronger, tighter network. The word regarding Varadarajan’s tenacity spread and those who came from Tamil Nadu for work invariably ended meeting Varadarajan and settling in this highly lucrative trade.
    The logistics of work those days were very nominal. The trade, mostly active after midnight, would consist of a few who knew how to mix liquor, and another set of people who provided the security cover and kept vigil. The next set-up was of foot soldiers who, along with retired cops, worked in the nights round the week to provide liquor to many small shops across the city, especially close to the access points of the city.
    The journalist Pradeep Shinde who covered the trade very closely, once observed, ‘The entire kingdom of Varda Bhai rested on the distribution and collection of illicit hooch .’ ‘T he concentrated liquid’, one of his reports states, ‘was filled in tubes of truck tyres, which are piled up in the deserted roads of Dharavi and taken over by the “wheelmen” or distributors. These carriers, ironically are by and large from the ranks of retired or suspended police personnel who have switched sides because of the lure of money. These are transported in gunny-bags, car trunks and other innocuous places.
    ‘In Bombay, it is easy to identify these carrier vehicles—the rear seats are invariably missing to provide more storage place. In areas which are called “ garam sections” [hot spots], meaning areas that were devoid of friendly police protection and had the risk of meeting a hostile cop party, an escort vehicle was provided. Its function was to intercept police vehicles which would suddenly be blocked by a car whose ignition had conveniently failed .’ Witnessing this intricate yet simple web of transportation, the upper ranks of policemen soon realised that the trade had became a big menace. And slowly but surely, Varda Bhai was transforming from just another illicit liquor producer into a big don.
    The dawn of Varda’s power came when his men could get anyone a ration card, illegal electricity, and water supply and make them a Bombay citizen faster than the local administration. People started pouring into the city in groups, especially from southern India—Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Kerala—and with each day the slums lined across the central region began to grow. It would not be an exaggeration to say that Varadarajan, in a small way, had much to do in making Dharavi the biggest slum space in Asia. Such was the allure of his might, that people started working blindly for him. Press reports during the sixties peg his trade of illicit liquor to around 12 crore rupees a year. In those years, that was a huge footprint considering the clandestine nature of the trade.
    The aura of his power had engulfed not only his trade but also the psyche of the people around him. An Antop Hill Police Station diary entry records a very sketchy detail about a man from Uttar Pradesh who went missing. He lived with his wife and two children at one of the first floor corridor-houses in Antop Hill. Every night, when Varadarajan’s men would gather to make liquor, the noise from the vessels would disturb his sleep so much that he complained to the local police, who poignantly chose to turn a deaf ear to it. When news of his complaint reached Varda’s men, it so vexed them that they simply just decided to shut him up ‘forever’ when he came down to yell at them one night. His name is still registered under the missing list at the Antop Hill Police Station records. However, as was widely reported in several newspapers at the time, his wife had another story to tell: she was adamant that the police was very handsomely paid to keep mum about the whole incident, she left the city soon after.
    Varda, however, knew too well that he needed to be very far-sighted in his approach in handling the network that