Requiem for a showman: The scene of the crime in Mumbai Requiem for a showman: The scene of the crime in Mumbai

Brazen, rapid-fire and in a sudden blaze. Death came to Gulshan Kumar much like success did. That Tuesday morning, he was living the triumph of the last 15 years, and the challenge of his new ventures flooded his mind.

As usual, habit took over; Kumar, 42, a pudgy, buoyant man, hastily put together a folder, gathered his puja samagri from a servant and started towards the Shiv temple less than a kilometre away. Though this time he went without his Uttar Pradesh Police gunman, who had fallen ill a few days before.

The maroon Maruti Esteem rolled out of his fortified, opulent bungalow in the plush Lokhandwala complex of Mumbai. It is an area where most Bollywood stars stay, and Kumar had worked his way up to this address. At 10.10 a.m., Kumar stepped out of his car, clad in a white silk kurta; the Shiv temple behind him shone like a shiny diamond on a garbage heap.

Residents of Jeet Nagar, the slum that surrounds the temple, remember how this cassette czar suddenly set his heart on this once nondescript temple four years ago. Kumar rebuilt the temple with the best marble money could buy. Eventually everyone got used to seeing him there.

Requiem for a showman: Mourners at Gulshan Kumar's funeral in Delhi Requiem for a showman: Mourners at Gulshan Kumar's funeral in Delhi

"When in Mumbai, he went there in the morning and evening every day," says Uday Shankar Pani, who made films for Kumar. The hours were not fixed; his routine was. It was a routine that three young men had studied carefully. Now they were waiting for him, watching as he went up the steps to the temple.

They were indistinguishable, part of the everyday people that inhabited the nearby slums; perhaps only one of them was conspicuous with his long, loose hair and blue jeans. At 10.40 a.m., his prayers over, Kumar ambled down the steps, his white sandals glinting in the sun. As he made his way to his car, just 50 paces away, he suddenly felt the cold rim of a revolver on his right temple. Kumar froze, looked up at the long-haired man and asked: "Yeh kya kar rahe ho (what are you doing)?"

Unfazed, the assailant answered: "Bahut puja kar li, ab upar ja ke karna (you have done enough puja, now do it up there)." Eyewitnesses say those were the last words Kumar heard before the long-haired man pulled the trigger of his 9mm pistol. The bullet seems to have grazed Kumar's forehead and he fell, the puja vessels and offerings clattering to the ground.

Instinctively, he sought survival. He struggled to his feet and lurched towards the shacks some 10 paces away. As he turned, the two other men opened fire, pumping a total of 16 bullets into Kumar's neck and back with .38 revolvers. As Kumar, fatally wounded, staggered towards the slum, his driver Rooplal Suraj reacted, running between Kumar and the assailants, and throwing a kalash at the gunmen.

Meanwhile, Kumar had reached the first shack where a startled woman shut the door in his face. The second house too shut the door on him. By the time he reached the common bathroom nearby, death arrived. Kumar slumped, as in a scene from his films, against a wall in which goddess Amba was painted on ceramic tiles. The man who wore his devotion like an amulet lay dead at the goddess' feet.

Police suspect Kumar was a marked man since July after he reneged on payment of protection money.

Says Suraj, who was shot in both legs: "I saw the most horrific climax; only this was real." It was 10.42 a.m. Cocky to the end, the three men, after making sure their victim was dead, walked up to the nearest taxi and yanked the driver out. Incredibly, they seemed to have no getaway car.

Much later, the police would speculate that these men were novices, newly recruited by the underworld since many of the experienced gunmen had been killed in recent encounters. But the police also added that in the last few Mumbai underworld killings, getaway cars weren't used, simply because once found they leave a trail. In a city like Mumbai, crawling with vehicles, it's much simpler to just hijack a car.

Meanwhile, outside the temple, while someone called the police, other bystanders bundled Kumar into a car and drove to Cooper hospital, 2 km away. "Dead on arrival," wrote the doctor on duty in the medical report.

The killing sent shock waves down Bollywood's spine, but an inner coterie of Kumar's friends weren't surprised at all. Because death had already sent a calling card. Close friends say that he was aware his name figured in a hit-list. That the underworld, knowing he presided over 45 companies and studios strewn across Mumbai and Delhi (estimated to be worth Rs 350 crore), had demanded Rs 10 crore in protection money.

And Kumar had reacted indignantly; "Main kis cheeze ke liye doon (Why should I give you money)?" Sources now say that Kumar had even been contacted almost two years ago. And on a complaint, had been given protection by the Uttar Pradesh Police. Two months ago, however, Abu Salem, a member of Dawood Ibrahim's inner circle, reportedly rang up and asked for money. Police sources say Kumar had already paid a large sum (as the first instalment). Last fortnight, the mafia asked for a second instalment and he refused.

It was a fatal mistake. This was not just some everyday business deal he could back off from. His family and friends though vehemently deny there was any deal with the underworld. Says Sunil Wadhwani, a director with Kumar's company, Super Cassettes Industries: "No money has ever been paid."

Yet they do admit Kumar had been receiving threat calls. He had come from Delhi to Mumbai on August 5 and on that very day went to meet a business associate Shashi Garware. Garware was late by a few minutes and Kumar was cooling his heels when his mobile phone rang. The voice at the other end was abusive and ominous, and it asked for money.

"Kumar chose to ignore it," adds Wadhwani. However, on August 8, the mobile rang again, this time Kumar was at home. "They said that if you haven't yet informed the Mumbai Police then you obviously are not taking us seriously. And you better take us seriously," says Darshan Kumar, Kumar's younger brother who was present when the call came. Kumar reportedly said: "I am doing my dharma; you do yours." There were no calls after this till he was shot.



Police officials now speculate that he was a marked man since early July. But he kept quiet about it. He didn't once ask the Mumbai Police for protection. Says a surprised Deputy Chief Minister and Home Minister Gopinath Munde: "He never told us. And we had no information."

The killing was like a bolt from the blue and though Abu Salem denies his involvement, police officials believe him to be the mastermind. INDIA TODAY spoke to another underworld don, Chhota Rajan, on his satellite phone somewhere in the Far East. He is categorical: "Salem is behind it. He was behind the attack on Rajiv Rai (a film producer) too. He is doing it on instructions from Dawood."

Whatever. Music and mafia; where and how the two worlds intersected in Kumar's life will remain a mystery. Kumar had single-handedly changed the face of the music business and his rags to riches story is now part of the industry's folklore. But he was also known for his petty and vicious behaviour with those who worked for him.

Says a former employee: "He wasn't fair. He could shower you with gifts if he needed you, or fire you if he didn't." He also had a reputation of being ruthless in his business deals. But in the end, he seems to have run into a bunch of people far more ruthless than him.



-with Harinder Baweja

