Salim was much more than just a mere khabri

Salim khabri is no more. Personally, I have always felt that the khabri tag attached to his name was an insult on him. Salim was much more than just a mere khabri. He was a living encyclopaedia of anything related to crime in the city. Be it the department of Customs, Narcotics Control Bureau, Central Excise, Directorate of Revenue Intelligence, city police or its Crime Branch, Salim knew all the key officers.

My association with Salim dates back to the start of my career in journalism. I first met him at Cricket Club of India in 1985, in the company of legendary Customs sleuth Daya Shankar. Salim had come to receive some award money from the officer. Daya Shankar never invited informants to his office to protect their identity.

Salim was a gregarious  fellow. He rattled out all sorts of information, as if it was his foremost duty to do so. His dialect was so typical that it took me several meetings to understand what he meant to say. For him, sea was paani, scooter a ‘helicopter’, boat a gaadi, ship a ‘bungalow’, gold was peela, silver was sheesha, heroin was ‘powder’, policemen were topi, Customs men paaniwale, Excise men daruwale and so on.

Salim was always on the move, hopping from one office to another, meeting one officer after another. One moment he was seen enjoying a cold drink with an IPS officer, and almost immediately afterwards he was sharing ‘cutting chai’ with a constable.

He treated everybody, big or small, alike. He would collect information and pass it on to his favourite officers and journalists.

I feel no shame in conceding that a majority my best investigative stories were based on tips provided by Salim. Even on the day of the fatal accident, Salim called me around 9.30 am to inform that two were drowned in a boat capsize near Colaba watch tower. I never knew that it would be the last call from him.