Behind the success of every superstar, there is a beautiful script. Ancient Indian Scriptures are riddled with short stories to boost morality of the of the enthusiastic reader. If we consider movies as the modern equivalent of scriptures, I have an interesting short story t narrate. Rajnikanth in one of his films, says:
“When I was young, once I smoked a cigar. My father came to know. He didn’t scold me instead he took me into a room full of cigars and asked me to smoke all the cigars by morning. I smoked all night. When I came out of the room in the morning, the room was full of smoke and I was suffocating. I never touched a cigar later.”
Moral: Too much of anything will only cause revulsion.
I was reminded of this short story when I learnt about the life of Moin Nawaz D. Kaskar. The ‘D’ stands for Dawood as in Dawood Ibrahim, the boss of the ‘D’ Company. Yes, Moin is the only son of Dawood Ibrahim. The sole inheritor of the Don’s illegal empire that spans across entire South Asia and Middle-East with few branches in the west, has renounced the life of a gangster’s heir apparent and become a Moulana – a religious cleric & teacher.
It seems the cycle of Karma is completed. Dawood, son of a police constable became a gangster and his son became a Moulana.
Moin’s elder sisters were married off long ago. Recognising the atrocious expertise of Dawood in executing serial blasts in Bombay, he was treated like a Damaad ji in Pakistan. Pakistan loves Dawood so much that one of their cricketing legends (and an equally hideous personality) Javed Miandad married his son Junaid to Dawood’s eldest daughter Mahrukh.
Dawood’s family is living the life of refugees in the promised land. His hosts don’t accept his presence in Pakistan, despite providing him the highest level of security. With age, the influence and reach of the dreaded don has subsided. His brothers living in Mumbai were continuously heckled by the police. Last month, some of his properties confiscated by the government were auctioned. Unlike earlier, when people were apprehensive to buy properties belonging to Dawood, this time the auctions were successful indicating the slide in the influence of D’ Company.
Maybe it was the continuous exposure to the high grade terror or the constant fear in the back of minds of all his family members, Moin got repulsed by the nuances of this world. He married Sanya, daughter of a wealthy businessman in Karachi. Not just spurning away the wealth amassed by his dreaded father, it appears Moin has estranged himself from his family too. According to his uncle Iqbal Kaskar, it is doubtful whether he is on speaking terms with his father or not.
He left the palatial bungalow and lives in a house next to a mosque where he leads the calls for Namaz daily. He has become a respected Moulana, a ‘Hafiz-e-Quran’, who has memorised all of 6236 verses of Quran.
The billions of dollars Dawood earned during his life time could not make his only son love him. The gallons of blood Dawood sprayed on Bombay roads could not make his son to look up to his s father in awe. Comforts in the palatial bungalow, government provided security, control over people who instill fear in the hearts of others could not make Moin respect his father.
Now, Dawood is having frequent bouts of DEPRESSION. Perhaps, now has understood that Karma is a fast chaser and it has a habit of overrunning even the most powerful ones. He may be wanting to ask Allah, as and when he meets his creator why he snatched away his only son. Maybe the God would answer: You snatched sway so many of mine.
I don’t say Moin’s act is pious. I won’t commit the mistake of glorifying his act, whether it was for renouncing the wealth or punishing his father. Some may feel, all of this is humbug and is just to ensure the security of the family. Maybe so. But, I doubt. Even Osama Bin Laden’s family is living freely. The world is really not as bad as we think it is. Moin could have lived safely forever in the comforts, enjoying the wealth accrued by his father. I want to believe this was a genuine transformation of Moin Nawar D. Kaskar.
Manu Smriti says: