The Suleman Usman Bakery firing of 9 January 1993 stands as one of the most gruesome police actions of the Bombay riots that followed the demolition of the Babri Masjid. Acting on a suspicion that terrorists were holed up on the bakery's terrace, the Special Operation Squad (SOS), under the direction of joint commissioner of police R.D. Tyagi, opened fire inside the establishment. The result was the deaths of nine Muslims, yet the police failed to apprehend any terrorists or seize any firearms from the spot; the truth, as the evidence later made clear, was that there were neither. The firing was an unwarranted killing by the police, a massacre that would become the last straw for one of Dongri's most formidable women, Jenabai Daaruwali.

Background and the Erosion of Jenabai's Authority

Jenabai Daaruwali was no ordinary resident of Dongri. A Memon by community and fluent in Gujarati, she had risen from a struggling mother of five to a powerful bootlegger and grain broker, a woman whose word once carried immense weight in the neighbourhood. Her power, however, had been mutilated by the Hindu-Muslim riots. Where a reprimand from her window would once have silenced any violent activity below, now no one cared. She had seen thousands gather to protest the demolition of the Babri Masjid and had watched the mob turn violent, setting police vehicles on fire. When she requested them to stop, no one heeded her. She had been asked to stay put, but the question of how long she could remain confined gnawed at her.

The Firing at the Bakery

The Suleman Usman Bakery firing was the event that broke her resolve. From her home, Jenabai peered through her windows and heard the gunshots and the helpless cries of people from inside the bakery. She was a spectator to one of the most gruesome and unwarranted killings by the police, a witness to the state's violence against her own community. The firing resulted in the death of nine Muslims, a toll that was not balanced by any successful apprehension of suspects or seizure of arms. The police action was not only deadly but also futile, a fact that underscored its injustice and fuelled the outrage of the community.

The Peace March and Its Symbolism

Now, even a hundred warnings by the forces would not shake Jenabai's 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, the Khatri Masjid on the left, and three Jain Derasars, had become the dividing line for the two wounded communities. The Pydhonie police station, a gift of the British era, stood at right angles from these religious houses. When she reached the junction, she stopped, her white flag a stark counterpoint to the violence that had consumed the area.

Consequences and Significance

Jenabai's peace march was a direct and personal response to state violence, a reassertion of her moral authority in a time of chaos. It transformed her public role from that of a criminal figure, a bootlegger who had once worked as a broker for smuggled grain at Daana Bazaar, into a communal peacemaker. The event also highlights the broader theme of the book: that women like Jenabai were not blank slates written upon by dangerous male mafia members, but active agents who pushed the boundaries of dominant moral codes. Her act of walking out with a white flag, armed only with a rosary, was a powerful rebuke to the armed violence of both the mob and the police, and it cemented her legacy as a figure who, even in her old age, could command the streets of Dongri.