Chapter 309 The Godfather of the Daud Gang
"How is Mumbai?" This was Shakir's first words after the greetings.
"Mumbai is incredibly well built," Ron said, grinning. "Fifty-five flyovers! You can get from Andheri to Colaba in record time."
"What a big change." Shakir nodded with satisfaction.
He has fond memories of hopping on a train from Mira Road to Boliwari, then to Andheri and on to Dadar.
He remembered the trees along the way, while Dubai was always full of tall buildings.
He had been away from Mumbai for six years, and every time someone came there, he would always ask this eagerly.
Even the people behind Shakir pricked up their ears to listen to the news about Mumbai; they could not go back.
They miss Mumbai endlessly. Apart from their livelihood on the road, they have no real life. They go to Pizza Hut to drink juice in their spare time, or buy Bollywood DVDs to watch all night long.
They always miss their hometown and wonder how their elders and brothers will celebrate traditional festivals.
Shakir had played the cassette of "I Love My India" in his room so many times that the magnetic powder was almost gone.
"I can see that you care about Mumbai very much." Ron raised his hand and asked the waiter to bring a few glasses of whiskey and juice.
"There is no other Mumbai in the world. I miss my compatriots, my motherland, the air and blue sky there, the familiar faces, my loved ones." Shakir tried his best to express his longing for Mumbai in an almost poetic way.
He made no secret of his feelings, speaking in a refined English, his accent even improved over the years in Dubai.
“Mumbai is like a delicacy; once you taste it, you never forget it. I miss all my family, but more importantly, I miss Mumbai because I was born there.
A person never forgets the place where he was born, his childhood, the paths he played on, the neighborhood, the school picnics, the movies, the laughter with friends; he cherishes every detail. “My story is just like that,” Shakir said, reciting the narration of a movie actor with meticulous precision.
Ron didn't interrupt him; this was a rare opportunity.
Look, Karuna is writing very quickly next to him.
This is the feared second-in-command of the Dawood gang - the godfather of the mafia. Which reporter in Mumbai would have the opportunity to sit in front of him and listen to him talk about his homesickness?
Such good material, but Ron and Mary kept silent tacitly, fearing that Shakir would lose the chance to talk about sex.
Shakir appeared approachable, relaxed, and confident. He showed no hesitation, a man used to giving orders.
Ron heard no threat in his voice, only frankness.
"I'm in my first year of high school and want to continue my studies. My dream is to join the army or go into politics when I grow up.
You know, when we were young, everyone would write an essay called "I want to be XXX". I wanted to be an officer, so that's what I wrote in my essay.
I want to die on the battlefield for my country. A person has strong feelings for his country. Some people just talk about it, but some people will put it into action. I am the latter.
"But fate has twisted my ways. Instead of becoming an officer, I became the commander of the Dawood gang." Shakir blames the police: "They indirectly ruined my life, forcing me to become involved with the underworld, and ultimately becoming the person I see before you today."
"Then how do you remotely control such a huge organization from such a far distance?" Karuna couldn't help but ask, like a reporter.
"I told my men in Mumbai about the plan, and they implemented it in their own way. We certainly have a way of communicating. You don't have to write my name, and you don't have to dwell on these details."
When it comes to such troubling matters, Shakir chooses to answer in a roundabout way, as seasoned politicians always do.
"But Mumbai is now caught in a gang war. The Dawood Gang, the New Federation, the Little Rajan Gang, the Gowri Gang, it's all in chaos." Ron spread his hands.
“The culprit is Rajan Jr.’s gang,” Shakir’s tone darkened. “Everyone in Mumbai knows that the split between Rajan Jr. and the Dawood gang was not due to the bombings.
A year before the incident, in 1991 or 1992, he had already harbored rebellious intentions. He was truly ungrateful. We had already taken down three of his men, and he was the fourth to go.
Over the past ten years, Daoud raised him. Although he is not his biological son, he is better than his own.
When young Rajan saw that his crime was exposed, he hurriedly performed the foot-touching ceremony to Dawood, crying and saying that he would change his ways. So Dawood did not kill him in the end, but chose to forgive him.
Seeing that his delaying tactic worked, Rajan left Dubai six months after the bombing and never returned.
He had to have a reason to rebel, so he told people it was because of the bombing. But he knew he was not clean either, so what was the truth?
"He was also involved in the bombing?" Ron raised his eyebrows. Little Rajan is a Hindu.
"It's best if we don't talk about this right now," Shakir suggested.
He knew that the people sitting next to Ron were from the TV station, so he allowed them to ask questions within a reasonable range.
Karuna asked whether it was true as the outside world said that the herdsmen would support Dawood's gang, while all the Hindus would join Rajan's gang or Gauri's gang.
Shakir said the rumors were not true, "There are quite a number of Hindus in our gang."
He put the ratio at 50 percent, with herders and Hindus each comprising half.
During Hindu festivals, the Dawood gang even gives money to its followers.
"Our motto is—" Shakir emphasized, "people are the center of everything."
Whether this statement is true or not is not the question for now, but let's write it down first. Ron and his team will interview multiple people and finally compile it together.
Perhaps because he saw that the gangster godfather was too "approachable", Karuna boldly asked him what he thought of the Mumbai police.
Unlike the one-sided attitudes of the killers imprisoned in the police station, Shakir's position seems very reasonable.
“It is true that some police officers are colluding with gangs, but that does not mean the entire department is hopeless. Even today, there are good police officers in Mumbai who are impartial and willing to do practical work for the people.”
Ron thought of Ajay. His coming to power was indeed a good thing for the Mumbai police.
Shakir can sympathize with the police's difficulties, even if they have to eliminate his men in the performance of their duties.
"But the targets of these encounters should be those who have truly posed a threat to the public. Don't let innocent blood be shed, because that person is also someone else's son and the pillar of a family.
But the police have recently encountered many civilians. What they are doing is purely religious persecution. In the past four months, Hindu police have killed many herdsmen in Malpudhan, saying that they are members of the Dawood gang.
But the truth is, three-quarters of the victims were people I didn't know and had nothing to do with the Dawood gang. The police would arrest someone, interrogate him, and then kill him, saying he was a member of the Dawood gang or the Rajan gang."
Shakir was particularly dissatisfied with this. It wasn't just Aij's police station that could enforce encounter laws. Other districts in Mumbai also had specialized encounter experts.
They set their sights on Malpudan, known as the "Little Baba Sheep," a place most likely to produce gang members and naturally a high-incidence area for encounters.
"It seems you've heard about the recent events in Mumbai. You're well-informed about the situation there." Ron gently turned the glass in his hand.
"Do you know the Internet?"
"Of course." Ron was a little surprised.
"That thing is amazing! Just click the mouse and global news will appear before your eyes!"
With the release of Windows 95, the Internet entered people's lives for the first time.
The slow pace in India is unnoticed, but in Dubai, just across the bay, the Internet is beginning to show its presence.
Shakir had someone set up an email account, and every day someone would scan the pages of major newspapers in Mumbai and send them to him.
He pays particular attention to the financial sector to see who is the market's darling recently, and spends at least two hours on it every day.
The brief interview ended and Ron signaled Mary and Karuna to step aside for the time being.
Only after they were alone at the table did they begin talking about today's business.
"You know, I only agreed to be interviewed by your people because you are Dr. Sur. No reporter has ever sat in front of me like this before. I believe you have no prejudice against the herders. The expression on your face when you rescued them was not fake."
"Thank you." Ron raised his glass and thanked sincerely.
"My brother, Anwar, has a Sur TV at home."
"What?" Ron was a little surprised.
"He's in the logistics business, and has nothing to do with gangs. He's a clean man, not involved in gangster stuff. He likes Soul appliances, saying they're genuine Indian products."
"My pleasure." Ron nodded.
"Actually, even if Kamal's situation hadn't happened, I would have been willing to help. I love India and I'd like to see electrical appliances made in Mumbai sold to Dubai. But I still want to ask, what's Kamal's current situation like?"
Ron didn't waste any time, he just took out the satellite phone and dialed, then handed it to him.
Shakir heard the response from the other side, chatted for a few words and was completely relieved.
"You are indeed a man of your word, Dr. Soul." He stood up. "Come with me."
Not far from their open-air teahouse, in the hotel lobby, there was a man sitting there.
He was a local, and there was a piece of cloth on his head, so you could tell at a glance that he was a local.
Shakir spoke to him in Arabic, and the other party responded, looking at Ron from time to time.
"He asked you to set up a company office in Dubai and deposit $10 million in Mashriq Bank as collateral."
"That's all?" Ron asked curiously.
"What do you want? Like finding people to give money all over Mumbai? Man, Indian logic doesn't work here.
Doing business in Dubai is very simple. What they value is the credibility of the supplier company, and there is no complex and special network of personnel relationships.
Your company does bulk trade and is new, so it was stuck for so long at the beginning. But I've guaranteed you and added a deposit, so it's up to you from now on."
"No problem." Ron agreed immediately. It was no problem.
Dubai is a great place. There are no trade barriers, no foreign exchange controls and their management agencies, and you can obtain foreign exchange without restrictions from authorized banks.
There are no regulations on levying profit tax and business tax on companies or enterprises, no income tax, value-added tax, consumption tax and various taxes on intermediate links, and profits can be remitted freely.
The best thing is that Dubai is a transit port, where merchants from nearly 30 African countries gather and purchase daily necessities, light industrial products, electrical appliances, clothing and other goods all year round.
Not only did they obtain a pass to Dubai, they also opened up the African market, killing two birds with one stone.
Ron was a little impatient.
(End of this chapter)
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