Dawood Ibrahim
I was in London with two of my friends from diverse fields. One was an ardent race goer at Mahalaxmi so I used to call him Rago. The other was an awesome foodie so he was known as Hotelwala. And yes he was a Parsi gentleman.
We had decided to make the London trip a few days earlier while having dinner at The Gallops, the elite restaurant at the Race Course where you could find Horse' d crème from the city's who's who.
My two friends had an added qualification too. They were childhood friends of Don Dawood Ibrahim.
Rago was a convent educated graduate from a prestigious city college while Hotelwala rose to become one of the top Hoteliers in town while their friend Dawood became the top Don.
Back to London. My rich friends booked a three bedroom self contained flat at one of the poshest locales in London. It was fully furnished apartment with running Cable TV and a British Telecom landline phone connection. The kitchen was semi serviced with eggs, butter, bread and milk apart from tea and coffee pouches.
The place was called Princess Court. A majestic prime property on the famous Brompton Street, London. And the best thing was that it was located right opposite the World famous Harrods Department Store. You come out of the Princess Court, cross the Brompton Street and you enter the imposing gates of Harrods.
The London landmarks like the Hyde Park, Westminster Abbey and Kennigston Palace were just a few minutes away on foot.
We were sitting in the huge drawing room watching Sky Sports showing England- Australia cricket test match live when the BT phone rang like the Big Ben.
Rago picked up the receiver and spoke to the caller to whom he addressed just as Bhai. Putting the receiver down he ordered us to get ready within ten minutes as Dawood Bhai was coming to pick us up within 15 minutes.
We put on our jackets to save us from the September breeze and rushed down to be there at the gate before the Don arrived. True to his perfect timing Dawood was right there in 13 minutes. The car was Swedish-made Saab.
Dawood stepped out from the front seat and told Hotelwala to stay behind as only two persons could be accommodated in the rear seats. Once inside the luxury car Dawood introduced us to the person in the Driver's seat. And he was none other the the legendary Pakistan cricketer Javed Miandad.
Unlike India where anybody with or without a licence can drive any vehicle the the rules in England are totally different and very strict. The person holding the driving licence can drive only a designated vehicle. He cannot drive any other vehicle not specified in the documents.
As the vehicle in which Dawood arrived was in the name of Miandad so he had to be on the steering wheel.
Later on I learnt that Dawood never learnt driving as he never wanted to be tied down at a time when he needed his hands to be free.
The moment we were inside the car, Dawood told Miandad to proceed to Palm Beach Casino. And as we drove past the busy streets Dawood suddenly stopped the car. It was a no parking street and Dawood asked Miandad to circle around till the time he finished his business.
As Dawood strode up the stairs of a high rise I read the bold neon lighted inscription - The Bank of Commerce and Credit International (BCCI), Berkele Street, London.
The name took me back to Mumbai where a few days back I had done an detailed news story saying how the bank duped its clients and was heading towards bad times.
It so happened that the BCCI bank, initially started by some filthy rich families from Pakistan and Abu Dhabi indulged in international frauds, money laundering and even suspected terror financing over the years.
The Mumbai branch of the BCCI too came under the scanner of the RBI which in turn suspended its operations and appointed a Custodian to supervise the day to day functioning of the bank. Mr SD Parande, the then deputy managing director of the State Bank of India was appointed as the Custodian.
I got all the inside information as I knew Parande through his cousin Sanjay Parande, an officer with the Mumbai Police and my dear friend.
Back in London, the Scotland Yard was said to have even found evidence that the London branch of the BCCI was used to finance the deadly activities of Palestinian terrorist Abu Nadal and other outfits.
And here I found myself circling around the same bank branch waiting for Dawood Ibrahim.
After several minutes we finally found him waiting for us. Once inside he generously apologised for keeping us waiting for so long. Just out of curiosity I asked Dawood if he had an account with the bank to which he replied in the positive. As I had the first hand knowledge about the Bombay branch I warned him to be careful as the bank could go bust any day.
For a moment he looked a little worried and asked Miandad to drive back to the bank. He rushed inside the bank and returned after more than half an hour looking much fresh and relaxed.
It was finally time to visit the Palm Beach Casino, one of best in London in those days. The moment we came out of the car at the casino gate Dawood noticed my shoes. He told me that i can't enter the Casino without wearing Leather shoes. I told him that due to my problem of multiple corns on both my feet I can't wear leather shoes with hard soles. I volunteered to wait outside while they tried their luck inside.
But he persisted that I buy new shoes. We all again took our seats in the car and started looking for a proper shoe mart. Finally we located one. Dawood wanted to come with me to the shop but Rago insisted that he will accompany me. We went inside while Dawood and Miandad went on another merry go round in search of a parking space.
Once inside the shop I found that it was a costly affair as no pair was priced less than 50 pounds. Rago selected one fitting my size for 99.99 pounds and paid for the same despite my protests.
I came out of the shop wearing new shoes and felt very uncomfortable. There was no way out either. Dawood also arrived after some time along with a necktie which also was a must to enter the casino.
And finally we were there. Once inside Dawood suddenly stuffed some currency in my pocket and vanished in to the crowd of punters.
We all played our favourite games of luck and chance. I stuck to the Roulette and won some 800 pounds in less than an hour. While coming down the stairs I handed over the notes back to Dawood and told him that I won handsomely.
Late in the evening we went to a Lebanese restaurant near Liberty Cinema to savour some tasty Dona Kebab before he dropped us back at the Princess Court.
Months later when I met him again in Dubai he thanked me for giving him the timely tip about the BCCI bank.
The account belonged to some one big in Mumbai and I was just handling it, he said a bit mischievously without naming the person.
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Baljeet Parmar, Eminent journalist and author
baljeetp28@gmail.com
Phone No. : 9870131868
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