Jenabai Daaruwali

Jenabai Daaruwali, born Zainab in the early 1920s to a Muslim Memon Halai family, was one of the most formidable figures in Mumbai's underworld, a woman whose shrewdness made notorious ganglords like Karim Lala, Haji Mastan, and Dawood Ibrahim dance to the movement of her fingers just like a conductor of a big philharmonic orchestra. Her life, which began in a one-room tenement on Mohammad Ali Road in Dongri and ended with her death in 1993, is a testament to the book's central argument that for these women, crime was not only a way of transcending their poverty and limitations but also a life-saving concept. She was not a blank slate written upon by dangerous male mafia members, but an active agent who pushed the boundaries of dominant moral codes, navigating the worlds of grain smuggling, bootlegging, and gangland politics with equal cunning.

Identity and Background

Born in the early 1920s to a Muslim Memon Halai family, Zainab, alias Jenabai, was one among six siblings. Her father made ends meet ferrying passengers on Victoria carriages across the city, and the family lived in a one-room tenement on Mohammad Ali Road, Dongri, in Mumbai. Dongri, a stone's throw away from the cloth market in Kalbadevi, was initially part of the original island of Mumbai, which stretched from Malabar Hill to the Dongri hills. In the mid-1700s, the Dongri hills were levelled as part of the plan to merge the different islands of Mumbai, and the low-lying patch of uneven land between Crawford Market in the north and the reclaimed lands of Kamathipura in the south came to be called Dongri. Today, Dongri—choc-a-block with rickety, old buildings—falls partially below the gigantic JJ Flyover and is primarily dominated by Muslims. At fourteen, she married Mohammad Shah Darwesh, a small-time businessman, and shifted to the first floor of the Chunawala Building in Dongri, where she would live for the rest of her life.

Rise Through Grain and Bootlegging

When Partition took place in 1947, Darwesh decided to move to Pakistan, but Jenabai, who had spent much of her childhood and youth struggling for Independence, refused to leave Mumbai. Her husband moved to Pakistan, leaving her alone to fend for herself and her five children. In the ensuing scarcity of grains in Mumbai, with most of the country's farmlands having gone to Pakistan, the rationing system was prevalent, and the government distributed limited food essentials to ration-card holders. In need of quick money to sustain her family, Jenabai started working as a broker for smuggled grain, playing intermediary to wholesalers and dealers of lentils, pulses, sugar and basmati rice at Daana Bazaar at Masjid Bunder, close to Dongri. She would procure foodgrain in bulk from the wholesalers on a commission, and then sell this grain to dealers who would sell it for a higher price and give her a margin of the profits. Hoarding and trading in grain without a licence was illegal and punishable by law, and the police raided her room at Chunawala building several times but never managed to get enough evidence to book her. Since she was a Memon, she was also fluent in Gujarati, making it easier for her to interact with the wholesalers and traders, most of whom belonged to the Gujarati community. These Gujarati traders soon began to refer to her as 'sister' or Jenaben, and since her dealings were mostly in rice (chaaval), the title 'Chaavalwaali' (one who deals in rice) became suffixed to her name, and locals in Dongri and Daana Bazaar began calling her Jenabai Chaavalwaali.

With the help of Vardharajan Mudaliar, Jenabai got into the bootlegging business in the early 1960s. Her Maharashtrian neighbour, Vicky bhai, soon went on to become her sidekick and financial manager in the trade. Jenabai's age, experience and, most importantly, her ability to handle and manipulate the police, helped her grow swiftly in the business. Before long, Jenabai—now known as Jenabai Daaruwali—became one of Vardha's closest aides. Meanwhile, Vardha's clout continued to increase, with press reports during the 1960s pegging his trade in illicit liquor to around Rs 12 crore a year. Vardha wanted more—and the most lucrative business was considered to be the smuggling of gold. He could not break into the business alone, however, as the Muslim dons—who had the right contacts in the Gulf—had the monopoly on it. So Vardha befriended dons like Mastan and Karim Lala, and they bonded to form a strong force. This was when Vardha first introduced Jenabai Daaruwali to Mastan.

The Peacemaker of Baitul Suroor

Jenabai's influence extended beyond mere commerce into the highest echelons of gangland politics. In 1980, she brought Mumbai's warring gangsters together at Haji Mastan's bungalow, Baitul Suroor, on Peddar Road, in order to have them come to a truce. The villa, Arabic for 'house of happiness', was situated in one of Mumbai's most expensive areas. On the night of the meeting, Mastan had called her a few hours earlier, requesting her to join him for dinner, and his black Mercedes had been sent to pick her up from her small home in Dongri at 7 p.m. Passers-by saw her walk out of the building and slip into the car, and the driver exchanged a warm, familiar 'salaam' before driving past the rickety old buildings towards Peddar Road. It had been raining heavily in Dongri, but unlike Peddar Road, Dongri continued to bustle with activity despite the downpour, with stalls protected by blue and black plastic sheets. The Mercedes stood out in this environment, but Dongri locals knew who was in the car and where she was going. The reason behind the meeting, however, was still a well-kept secret, meant to stay inside the closed walls of Baitul Suroor and revealed only to the one woman who was feared and respected by all in Dongri. Mastan, who had been pacing the length of his veranda, smoking cigarettes from a pack of 555, was relieved to see his Mercedes return, and rushed downstairs towards the entrance as Jenabai, an old woman well in her seventies, stepped out, fidgeting unsteadily with her black umbrella.

The Peace March and Final Years

The Suleman Usman Bakery firing on 9 January 1993 was the last straw for her. The Special Operation Squad (SOS), suspecting terrorists were holed up on the terrace of Suleman Usman Bakery, had—under the direction of joint commissioner of police R.D. Tyagi—opened fire inside the bakery. She had peered through her windows and heard the gunshots and helpless cries of people from inside the bakery; she was spectator to one of the most gruesome and unwarranted killings by the police. The firing had resulted in the death of nine Muslims, but the police failed to apprehend terrorists or seize firearms from the spot; the truth being that there were neither. Now, even a hundred warnings by the forces would not shake her determination to step out of her home. In her long white chikan nightgown and a shawl that covered the grey in her hair, this fair and heavily jewelled lady, with a rosary in one hand and a white flag in the other, went out onto the street. In a few seconds, a group of young men had gathered behind her as she led the demonstration. She walked between the torched lanes of Dongri towards the Pydhonie junction, unconcerned about danger. The junction with the Hamidiya Masjid on the right, Khatri Masjid on the left and three Jain Derasars, had become the dividing line for the two wounded communities. When she reached the junction, she stopped.

One day, she had fallen unconscious while praying. Her daughter Khadija rushed her to the hospital, where doctors diagnosed brain haemorrhage and admitted her in the ICU. However, when she gained consciousness and found herself in a hospital, she started screaming and abusing her family for bringing her there, demanding to be taken back home. Since they were all scared of her, they relented. Back home, she slipped into a coma. Medical facilities were provided to her at home itself; however, a week later, she died. Thus, Zainab Darwesh Gandhi alias Jenabai Daaruwali, died a silent and painless death. All that is left of her now is the carvings on the headstone of her grave: Form no 2544, Otta no 601. A front page interview of Jenabai Daaruwali appeared in one of the most prominent Urdu newspapers, Akbhar-e-Alam, in 1992, a year before her death. Though she made enough money as an informer and bootlegger, she refused to leave the Chunawala Building and breathed her last there in 1993.