Confessions of a Reformed Hitman

“I was frightened. Did I really want to live every second looking over my shoulder? I decided to give up.”

My childhood was spent in central Mumbai, the hub of the underworld. My father worked in the Electricity Board, while my mom had a lunch service. I would deliver dabbas door to door in the neighbourhood. One customer was Rajaram, a doctor who also dealt in stolen motorcycles. We became friends and he began to use me. I had given up on studies and was then just a vagabond. The police found out about the racket and raided Rajaram’s house. He told them that he had kept a stolen bike with me. I was arrested, sentenced for nine months and entered Arthur Road Jail, the place which would take me right into the heart of the underworld.

As a low-ranked prisoner, I had no rights and jail promised to be a miserable experience. Luckily, Bakya Bhai, a gangster, took me into his fold. A word from him, and my prison life dramatically improved. Bakya Bhai’s brother was a gangster of renown—Ajay Mohite, whose boss was Hemant Pujari, a top gun in the Chhota Rajan gang. I became part of the gang. When I got out, the first thing I was asked to do was go to a bar and kill some rivals. Along with three others, I waited till midnight. When we realised they were not coming, we fired in the air and fled.

That same year, in 2000, I was asked to kill a man living in Kalyan (a distant suburb of Mumbai). I was to be paid Rs 25,000. We hung around Kalyan for three days before we finally saw him. It was broad daylight and there were people everywhere, but we went up to him and hacked him with choppers. Later, I heard that he had been hurt badly, but survived. The police were looking for us and we hung around Kalyan’s outskirts, waiting for things to cool off. One of us, Danish, became bored and decided to return to Mumbai. When we didn’t hear from him, we made enquiries and found out that he had been shot dead in a police encounter.

I was frightened. Did I really want to live every second looking over my shoulder? I wasn’t too far gone in the world of crime to not turn back. I decided to give up. In jail, I came in contact with a police officer who felt I could go back to a legitimate life. If I’m alive and kicking and no longer in the world of crime, it’s thanks to him. I’m 28 years old. I might not be earning a lot, but at least it’s the wages of an honest day’s work.

About The Author

Clement Augustine