Breaching the Modus Operandi of Mumbai Mafia

An Excerpt from 'The Class Of 83'

Unbeknownst to the lords that ruled the underworld, there was a storm gathering force in the Police Training School (PTC) in Nashik that would sound the death knell for the most dreaded criminals in the 1990's. The batch of 1983- Pradeep Sharma, Vijay Salaskar, Praful Bhosale, Aslam Momin and Ravindra Angre, among others- were to become the most prolific, or notorious, 'encounter specialists' in the history of the Mumbai Police. The war they waged against the underworld made Mumbai Police a force to reckon with. In The Class of 83, S. Hussain Zaidi delves deep into the world of police, informers and criminals.

Read on for a glimpse-

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'Kya sir kab score badha rahe ho? (When you going to increase your score tally?)' a particularly irritating know-it-all reporter asked, referring to Sharma's string of encounters in his previous stint. Sharma laughed derisively. The days of encounters were passé. It was time to change tactics.

The audio in Sharma's ears was thanks to a call he had received a few days after taking charge. Even as he was floundering to surface from the sheer flood of bouquets, phone calls and well-wishers who flocked to his office at Court Naka in Thane, he received a WhatsApp Call that took precedence over all others. It was a name that had not flashed across his screen for over two years.

'I need to meet you,' the informer said. 'And I can't come to your office.'

Sharma took a second to think. He was simultaneously trying to figure out a place to meet his informant and the level of secrecy required for the meeting, because this was one of his most trusted informants. Something big was afoot.

Finally, he said, 'Mai force mein waapas aate hi ho gaya shuru? (You started immediately after I joined the force?) How do I know you're not wasting my time?'

'Sir,' the informant said, 'I have been sitting on this for the last two years. Only because I want to give this to you. Trust me, this is important.'

'Okay,' Sharma said. 'Where do you want to meet?'

The informer said that he would wait for Sharma at the Police Officers' guest house not far from his office. Sharma agreed.

'Mera naam bol (Drop my name),' Sharma told him. 'I'll see you there.'

Half an hour later, Sharma set out on foot towards the guest house near the Thane Collector's Office, much to the chagrin of his subordinates, who wanted him to take an official car and an armed escort, which was the last thing Sharma wanted. He was perfectly aware of the fact that his enemies were looking out for any chance to strike at him, more so now that he was back in the police, having cocked the granddaddy of all snooks at those who had written him off. But he had made his choice the minute he got off the phone with his informant. Going to meet him with a cavalcade in tow would be like waving a sign proclaiming that the man was his informant. Not to mention it would be professional harakiri.

So, even as his colleagues tried to talk him out of it, Sharma stepped out of the AEC compound, dressed in plain clothes, his personal weapon tucked in his ankle holster, and took the ten-minute walk to the guest house.

The informant was sweating and there was a slight tremble to his hand when Sharma got there.

'I thought you were not coming,' he said.

'Well, I did. What do you have?' Sharma said. His gut feeling told him he was not going to regret coming. But he had to take care not to appear too desperate. It is a control tactic. Informants lose respect for cops who salivate at the slightest mention of a big catch. They need to be conveyed that no matter what they have hidden in their sleeves, the cop is always the one calling the shots.

The informant leaned forward and whispered, despite them being the only men in the room.

'Iqbal Kaskar is running an extortion racket here,' he whispered.

It took a second for the words to properly register with Sharma. He felt a sudden surge of excitement. Iqbal Kaskar was Dawood Ibrahim Kaskar's brother.

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To find out how 'encounter specialist' Pradeep Sharma went hot on this trail, read S. Hussain Zaidi's The Class of 83!