Dhurandhar’s Bade Saab revives the evil of D Company

In Dhurandhar 2 (the revenge), the main character of Hamza played by Ranveer Singh asks his ISI (Inter-Services Intelligence) handler Maj Iqbal “Aap ka bhi koi Bada saab hai?” when informed of an important appointment. Maj Iqbal perhaps gets the irony in Hamza’s words, but chooses an answer that is a rare moment of self-awareness and a caution. “Everyone has a boss, Hamza, even those who think they are the boss,” says the character essayed by Arjun Rampal.

The scene is a precursor to the mystery of “Bade saab,” who crops up in conversations in Dhurandhar 1 too, being solved as Maj Iqbal and Hamza travel to a well-fortified sprawling bungalow. The address in Karachi’s Clifton locality is the residence of key ISI ally Dawood Ibrahim – at one time leading mob boss of Mumbai’s underworld -- before he fled India after masterminding the 1993 serial bomb blasts. Though speculation was rife, the sight of an ailing Dawood on screen confirmed “Bade Saab” was indeed the leader of the infamous D Company.

Dawood’s imprint

Dawood had of late faded from public memory. A reclusive figure, the globally sanctioned terrorist has been under ISI’s protective gaze for decades. Not only is he a prized collaborator with a fund of information about ISI’s terrorist networks, Dawood has more than his fair share of adversaries even in Pakistan. The death of his younger brother Noora in 2009, reportedly after severe torture, was believed to be the handiwork of Rehman Dakait, who features prominently as the Baloch overlord of Karachi in Dhurandhar 1. Yet, before the films resurrected him in the popular consciousness, Dawood was seen a shadowy figure not directly connected with recent terror attacks on Indian soil.

The terrorist has been a major node of ISI’s operations in India and has a well-earned reputation of being a transnational narco-terrorist. His criminal-terrorist syndicate is actively involved in subversion in India and his local contacts have not died away. Actor Sanjay Dutt’s “SP Chaudhary” explains the consequences of “stealing” Bade Saab’s “maal (stuff)” in explicit terms to drug smugglers he is about to shoot dead in Dhurandhar 1. The dialogue and action is dramatized, the menace of Dawood and the fate that meets those who cross him is real. There is nothing sepia-tinted about Dawood even though it has been 32 years since 257 people died and hundreds were injured on an ill-fated March afternoon in Mumbai.

A political blind spot

Dawood has been ISI’s weapon of choice and the immunity he enjoys should have been a constant reminder of what a thorn in the side he is for India. His presence as a permanent guest of Pakistan in Karachi has been a stark reminder of the constraints on India’s fight against terrorism and Pakistan’s ability to cock a snook at the concerns of successive governments in New Delhi. This was in no small measure helped by the political choices Indian governments made and the intellectual response of the Delhi elites. A former foreign secretary’s recent endorsement of Pakistan People’s Party leader Hina Rabbani Khar’s pitch for a “women’s caucus” to reset India-Pakistan ties illustrates the point well.

During her tenure as minister of state for foreign affairs Khar consistently told Indian media that it was time to get over the 26/11 attacks, suggesting that the case would go nowhere. The standard answer to Indian questions about the investigation and trial of accused members of  the Lashkar e Toiba was that it was all a matter of a “judicial process” and never mind that no one judge heard the case for any length of time. The tenure of the former Indian foreign secretary who finds Khar’s ideas so appealing was marked by a shambolic visit by then foreign minister S M Krishna to Islamabad where he was publicly humiliated by his counterpart Shah Mahmood Qureshi, a particularly uncouth Pakistani politician. Even a day before the disastrous summit, senior Indian diplomats posted in Islamabad were wary about what might be in store. We just can’t tell, they said. After Krishna returned to New Delhi, the former foreign secretary held an informal briefing for the large Indian media contingent at the airport requesting that journalists should not lose sight of a certain “perspective” while reporting events in Islamabad. Most journalists did so, but because they were mindful of national interest even though they were witness to the fiasco.

The tide began to change in the mid-1990s

This woolly-headedness, to the point of deliberate amnesia, marked Indian policy towards Pakistan. Rather than focusing on activities of enemies like Dawood, governments engaged in a meaningless “composite” dialogue that placed terrorism at par with the Sir Creek and Wullar Barrage issues. It even included a discussion on promoting “friendly” exchanges in the fields of education and culture. This is where the Dhurandhar films and the portrayal of Dawood hits the audience. For years and years, Dawood has hidden in plain sight in Karachi, working with his gang and the ISI to keep the terror pipeline flowing, channeling drugs, fake currency, arms and terrorists into India.

Almost exactly two years after the 1993 bombings elections to the Maharashtra assembly saw the Shiv Sena and Bharatiya Janata Party defeating the incumbent Congress government led by Sharad Pawar. The Mumbai blasts were a major reference point with the Sena-BJP campaign ditty that drew on a popular Bollywood song – “PM tera CM diwana, Dawood ko dale dana (O PM, your CM is deluded, he plays to Dawood’s tune)” – proving a major hit with voters. The saffron parties won because voters instinctively grasped the point being made, that Congress policies appeased communalism at home and failed to confront the threat of Pakistan.