Chapter 4: Political influence & business expansion

Slowly and gradually, as the rivalry grew its roots, it gave birth to two groups practicing lawlessness.

While one group had all the loaders, drivers, contractors, truckers from Bihar; the other had all the Bengali hooligans. Even the buyers of the illegal metals were the people from their own caste and creed

In no time, rivalry took the shape of blood-shedding. Each group was looking for chances to foray into another’s territory to attack and get complete control of the mafia reins.

Raj Yadav, being less powerful of the two groups, started losing control. He witnessed his illegal businesses winding up. It was either the other party creating ruckus or the police sealing and arresting his men.

On one of his worst nights, as Raj Yadav lay under the bed of stars, staring into infinity, he ached to get the reins back. He could not accept defeat and restlessness seeped in. He knew, it was now or never, and Yadav didn’t want to leave a scope for never.

That night, a plan was hatched.

He decided to take a step back.

Raj Yadav was certain, to operate in peace and without interference from the cops, he had to banish the other group of haters. For this, he chose to take the support from local leaders.

He became an active member of the then-ruling party. Political murders, ballet box thefts, fraudulent activities, riots, etc were the activities where he got involved and supported the party.

Having taken those activities up, and performed to satisfaction, he formed quite an impression. Becoming a go-to person for the revered party, he achieved what he desired.

The support of the influential and the brawny helped him better his business. Illegal loading was easy now, fewer attacks, business sorted. He had almost regained control.

Now was the time to streamline the business and run it in a more organised manner.

Raj Yadav knew just what needed to be done. He hired two musclemen, the goon brothers in the Basti No. 8.

And set to expand his business in absolute power.

 

Also Read –

Chapter 1: Gangs & their ADDA

Chapter 2: The rise of Raj Yadav

Chapter 3: The advent of rivalries

Chapter 3: The advent of rivalries

The Burnpur town of the Asansol city has the IISCO steel plant that covers a massive area – quite expansive. Connected by the Grand Trunk Road, there goes a rutted Burnpur Road, and along this road lies the revered steel plant. Back in the days, on this well-travelled Burnpur Road sat the biggest theatre of the area – Chitra Cinema – a to-go spot for the employees of SAIL and the residents of the New Town.

New Town, eponymous of its birth, was named so because it was built newly. It happened to be located in the lane beside the cinema hall and housed the residential quarters of the SAIL plant employees. While the adjacent road led to the human abodes, there was another miry lane leading towards oofy collieries. And right in the middle of these two poles was the Basti No 8, a small rugged area, home to Raj Yadav.

As he was getting active in the game and writing the prologue to chronicles of crime, residing in the vicinity of SAIL, IISCO and collieries offered him opportunities to explore. Yadav began his stealing spree in the dimness of the nights.

During the utter darkness, so much that it would take several minutes for his eyes to catch a hazy gleam that drifted in and out the iron and steel plants, he began his business. Yadav got involved in the illegal iron and steel larceny that was pulled off by the illegal contractors and unruly security officers in tandem.

The empty trucks in the quiet of the night, entered the plants, where they were loaded with the scrap – scrap that had high market value, scrap that was worth huge monies, scrap that was a great means of daily wages for the people involved.

Slowly and gradually Raj Yadav used his brain and brawn to become the front-runner of the team that loaded scrap in the trucks – thus, chancing upon a good opportunity money-wise as well as a break to know the process inside and out. Eventually, he became a contractor and started supplying the labour who loaded trucks with these illegal metals.

However, soon enough he realised that in order to make it big, he needs to do something more, something that gave him the power he was hungry for. He initiated his own trucks, his own labour and arranged for buyers who would buy metal scrap from him.

The catch here was, not everyone could buy the scrap. It needed specialised buyers, a special market, and the stop for this was Asia’s largest wholesale scrap iron market in Howrah’s Ghusuri. It was an infamous market where you could sell illegal iron, steel and other metals illegally obtained, such as from railways. The speciality of this market was, it conveniently consumed all the precious scrap which couldn’t be sold elsewhere and digested it without a trace.

Living up to its reputation of the biggest grey market in the area, this market dealt with buying and selling illegal scrap which was then disposed of at great prices after melting and reshaping.

Raj understood the game, how to obtain, how to sell, how to supply and laid roots to his own business with his own people. Recognised and rewarded the corrupt security officers, got them to join his team and went along with his scavenging business.

In no time, he became prominent, which didn’t go down the throats of people already operating.

And thus began the rivalry with the ones already in business.

 

Also Read –

Chapter 1: Gangs & their ADDA

Chapter 2: The rise of Raj Yadav

 

Chapter 2: The rise of Raj Yadav

Son of an immigrant from Uttar Pradesh – Raj Yadav took no baby steps towards gaining clout. Back in the day, he was someone to be wary of – one of the intimidating goons of the town who started off as a pilferer and swindler of defunct machinery from iron and steel units.

Things were near-perfect. His father, who was a contract labourer at the IISCO, got him insight into the steel plant. Slowly and gradually, Yadav had the entire illegal market – dealing with the sale and purchase of these scraps – under his purview. The CISF security deputed at the steel and iron plants were hand-in-glove with the mafia, and so were some of the police personnel from the famed Birapur police station.

Birapur Police Station is based out of the Burnpur area – the captive township of SAIL, and has jurisdiction over parts of Asansol Municipal Corporation. It is known for officials with a strong appetite of gormandizing pesos and won’t be wrong to call it a preferred choice of job posting for the haughty circle officers.

Quite naturally, the deep-pocketed native Cosa Nostra used to stuff their pockets with enough moolah to keep mum and let the operation run smoothly.

Thus began a rampant smuggler Raj Yadav’s journey into the world of mafia – a mere crook became a Mafioso.

Backed by the patronage of the political parties, hundreds of youth helped him loot, transport, process and smuggle the scraps to different units across Asansol Durgapur industrial zone. The mafia, for years, are being provided shelter by political leaders and therefore the goons had been avoiding arrest.

Lord Acton, the 19th-century British historian said, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

And that is what happened.

 

Also Read: Chapter 1 – Gangs & their ADDA

Chapter 1: Gangs & their ADDA

Things take an ugly shape when the desire to gain power settles in. The avarice for wealth and dominance births, and sows seeds for an enthralling story.
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A narrative that will be remembered and recited for years to come.
A recounting that must not be laughed off.
A recipe with ingredients like puissant leaders, voracious workers and a coal rich belt.

This story is about a time when the largest industrial hub of West Bengal ‘ADDA’ was doused in the brains and the brawns of a prominent political party who governed it.

ADDA, known as the Asansol Durgapur Development Authority, a part of Vardhaman district of West Bengal is touched by the seams of Jharkhand. Being a coal-rich belt, the advent of collieries was obvious, and so was the migration of people from nearby areas.

To think about it, migration – is it merely a term for relocation?
Or is it an expression that speaks loudly of human aspiration for safety, power and a better future?

As people started realising how ADDA was a treasury with vast income-generating ability, the ‘convivial’ communities laid their roots here. In no time, polarisation happened and ADDA turned into a hotbed of hatred.

Soon enough, ADDA became the adda for the coal mafia. Illegal coal mining became a practice they carried out in and around Asansol. While mafia were the puppets, puppeteers were the shifty leaders from the paty. This nexus had everyone’s role defined – from police to miners, from local goons to mafia, to their chiefs.

As people were learning to live with fire down below, the topography of the surreal landscape was about the see the establishment of copper, iron and steel factories too. The contemplation quickly turned into a beneficial economic and political reality, and Silpanchal was born.

Sometimes the best things in life are the appreciations – other times its sleep.

Though I strongly believe, I lack writing skills, I write irrespective – not-so-happening blog posts, plus I work as a writer. Cruel, no?

Yea, so coming to the point, a friend recently came across my oh-so-awesome write ups (Yes! You can laugh! :-|) and appreciated those too. Guess, he had no choice. No one can even think of losing a friend like me. (Yes! You can laugh again or break into happy nagin dance or have a pizza party, suit yourself!)

Poor chap, unaware of the drought in my writing area, asked me to write stories. Doesn’t even know that I wish to have a fantastic imagination more than money.

A little secret, I desire to be rich enough to answer the waiter with “Bottled water” every time they ask me if I would like to have bottled water or regular one. Not to mention the look that I get from them after I reply, the look which says, “oh ho, how unfortunate.”

Now you know how desperate I am to inculcate in me those writing qualities which will help me out from the land of unsophisticated what-I-call-write ups!

[Okay, Don’t wait for me to tell you to laugh every time, you can laugh without waiting for me to say the pleasing words]

So here’s how my story starts, but when you’ll read through, you’ll get to know that it doesn’t even reach its mid, forget about the end. 😛

***

“Why don’t you get a haircut? You look like a bear”, said his mom.

He sat there indifferent. Staring out of the window, in his thoughts, still trying to make sense of what she said…

*The Day Before*

Rachit went to meet her, all excited. He told her, “I might not be rich, I have no money or villa or cars or companies like my friend Sushant, but I love you”. She looked at him – touched, tears in her eyes. She hugged him like there is no tomorrow and whispered in his ear, “If you love me, introduce me to Sushant.”

Things went pear-shaped for him. She looked at his face and said, “But I adore you.”

***

He thought of films like The Notebook – which he had seen too many times for a guy, Gone with the Wind and Valentine’s Day. He had somehow developed a feeling that relationships can be heart-warming, enjoyable and tear-jerking. Then he considered his previous relationships and the one that was about to begin, but couldn’t, and says to himself, “shit, I must be a legendary looser”. All the relationships he had been a part of, ended in ‘heartbreak’.

A shriek from his mother brought him back to reality! Distracted, he begins to think of as to why one needs to cut hair. Puzzled, he tries to figure out if hair was supposed to be cut, why we weren’t born without them. Suddenly he shouts out loud, “I say why cut your hair in the first place? A bear’s mom never asks him to cut its hair. And being its lookalike, I can roam around shabbily and sloppily.”

***

And then I went into the story and politely told him, “Oww Kid, maybe it’s just that these girls can’t handle your extremely good looks and your thoughtfulness, or may be your extensive up-to-the-minute wardrobe.”  Please Excuse, I’m just trying to make him feel better. Okay! “Son, women are too much work, attempting to become the ideal boyfriend and buying them the gifts for every single holiday is passé”.

***

The story doesn’t make sense? Hai na! Told you. I feel sorry for you. Seriously! But more than that I feel sorry for myself, because I wasted meri-life-ka-keemti-waqt to prove you that I’m terrible at story writing!

Whatever, I guess appreciations are the best things in life, sometimes only, the times these motivate you to write something worthwhile, unlike this one. Other times its sleep. Confident of the latter!