Court likely to pass order on chargesheet cognisance on Jul 29
Special judge Vishal Gogne on July 15 reserved the order after taking into account the submissions on the aspect of cognisance from both sides. The court had been hearing the submissions on the point of cognisance by ED and the proposed accused on a day-to-day basis from July 2.
The ED has accused the Congress leaders, late party leaders Motilal Vora and Oscar Fernandes, as well as Suman Dubey, Sam Pitroda and a private company, Young Indian, of conspiracy and money laundering over the alleged fraudulent takeover of Rs 2,000 crore worth properties belonging to Associated Journals Limited (AJL), which published the National Herald newspaper.
The ED alleged theGandhis held the majority 76 per cent shares in Young Indian, which allegedly fraudulently usurped the assets of AJL in exchange for a ?90 crore loan. The charge-sheet names the Gandhis, Sam Pitroda, Suman Dubey, Sunil Bhandari, Young Indian and Dotex Merchandise Pvt Ltd.
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21 minutes ago
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Ahead of elections, Maharashtra govt had cleared road works worth Rs 9,300 crore in tribal areas
In months leading to the 2024 Lok Sabha and Assembly elections, Maharashtra's Tribal Development department had approved road works worth Rs 9,300 crore against the approved budget of merely Rs 2,830 crore. As per the data accessed by The Indian Express, the government has dues pending Rs 10,100 crore for the works undertaken in the past three years. The finance minister has directed to avoid taking up the new projects and focus on paying up the dues. Directions have also been given to review the works which were given administrative approval but could not be started for over a year. The Tribal Affairs department of the state government undertake road works in tribal areas (budget head 5054 5117). Since the year 2022-23 to 2024-25, works worth Rs 13,016 crore were approved against the approved budget of just Rs 3,230 crore. As per the data, in December 2023 (leading up to Lok Sabha 2024 polls) woks worth Rs 4,500 crore and in July 2024 (leading up to Assembly 2024 polls) works worth Rs 4,800 crore were approved, which amounts to a total of 70 per cent of the total works in the past three years. Prior to December 2023, the total amount of administrative approval for the year 2023-24 was Rs 2,900 crore only. As per the data, works worth Rs 700 crore were given administrative approval in the year 2022-23 against the budget of Rs 400 crore. On Tuesday, Deputy Chief Minister and Finance Minister Ajit Pawar held a review of the financial situation of the department. 'The total pendency of the dues is around Rs 10,000 crore for last three years. The minister has directed us to ensure that dues are paid and there will be no new projects,' said an official who attended the meeting. Pawar has also asked to take the review of the pending road works for more than a year. 'There are works which did not start for more than a year despite administrative approval. Directions have been given that those works will be cancelled,' said the official. The associations of Maharashtra's contractors and engineers have been demanding their dues from the government since last year. In February they wrote a letter to state government's top leadership warning to stop all ongoing infrastructure works as payments worth Rs 89,000 crore from different departments have allegedly not been paid since July 2024. Despite stopping the works in phase-wise manner across the state, the contractors have yet not been paid. Among the alleged Rs 89,000 crore dues of the contractors include Rs 46,000 crore from the Public Works Department (PWD), Rs 18,000 crore from the Jal Jeevan Mission under Water Supply and Sanitation department, Rs 8,600 crore from the rural development department, Rs 19,700 crore from the irrigation department and Rs 1,700 crore from the works done under DPDC, MLA fund and MP fund.
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22 minutes ago
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"Fadnavis Act": Sanjay Raut's Big Allegation As Agency Probes Civic Official
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25 minutes ago
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Cyber crime: The new big con
(NOTE: This article was originally published in the India Today issue dated June 14, 1999)Major General Prabodh Chander Puri (retd) remembers the day clearly. It was October 15. The 83-year-old had been going about his usual routine when the phone rang in his house in Panchkula, Haryana. On the other end was a voice of authority—stern, direct and deeply unnerving. Claiming to be a senior official of the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI), the caller informed Puri that his mobile number had come up in a financial scam investigation. To 'protect his honour' and avoid immediate incarceration, he would have to submit to an interrogation. What followed was a chilling 48-hour ordeal. Puri was subjected to video calls that appeared to be from legitimate government offices. The scammers even created a horrifyingly convincing ruse: a courtroom simulation with actors playing judges, police officials and enforcement agents, complete with wireless static sounds and official-looking documents. Overwhelmed, Puri transferred Rs 82.27 lakh into multiple bank accounts in tranches. He was told the money was only a 'refundable security deposit' to clear his name. By the time the truth dawned on him, the scammers had vanished, leaving Puri devastated and financially Puri's is not an isolated account. He is one of a growing number of victims of a sinister new cyber con playing out across the country. Set up as an elaborate 'dark sting' operation, it casts its web around a wide array of people: retired officials, lawyers, bankers, doctors, professors, journalists and even tech-savvy professionals, forcing them to part with their entire life savings. Among the most high-profile was the case of S.P. Oswal, chairman of the Vardhman Group, India's largest textile conglomerate, this September. Cyber criminals staged an entire Supreme Court session over a video call, with actors brazenly posing as then Chief Justice D.Y. Chandrachud and senior investigators who alleged that Oswal's Aadhaar card had been misused in a major money-laundering scandal. For several days, he was held under a 'digital arrest', forbidden to communicate with anyone else, even as the scammers intensified their demands. Oswal ended up transferring Rs 7 crore to what he believed were government escrow now have the country's investigating agencies begun to fathom the extent of this new digital fraud. Rajesh Kumar, chief executive officer of the Indian Cybercrime Coordination Centre (I4C), reveals that Indian citizens lost Rs 120 crore to 'digital arrest' scams just in the first four months of the year; the losses from the entire range of cyber crimes—from 'digital arrests', sextortion, OTP scams to investment fraud—were a staggering Rs 1,776 crore. The masterminds of these scams are part of highly organised, transnational criminal syndicates based predominantly in Southeast Asia, including Cambodia, Laos, Thailand and Myanmar, making investigation difficult. The situation has escalated to such an extent that Prime Minister Narendra Modi himself brought it to national attention on his Mann Ki Baat radio programme on October 27, urging citizens to stay vigilant and not fall prey to such scams. 'No government agency will ever contact you via phone or video call for such an investigation,' he told the country's citizens. THE MODUS OPERANDIMethodically planned and executed, these digital stings exploit the victims' worst fears in a country where the process itself is known to be the punishment. It begins with a call, usually from a masked number or from a location in a major city, often New Delhi or Mumbai. To evade detection, criminals procure multiple SIM cards from different mobile network operators. These SIM cards are used through SIM box technology to bypass official international gateways, routing international calls—often originating in Southeast Asian countries—via Voice over Internet Protocol (VoIP) systems to give the appearance of it being a local call. The callers introduce themselves as being from a courier service or a government organisation, their tone initially neutral, to build rapport. Then, they make a startling accusation—money-laundering, drug or human trafficking, crimes serious enough to evoke immediate the time they are told that their Aadhaar or PAN info is tangled with the crime, the victims are already on edge. Like the retired police officer in Indore who was told his phone number had surfaced in a case of drug trafficking. As a former law enforcer himself, he understood the gravity of the charge. The scammers played on his fears further, convincing him to transfer Rs 1 crore to 'clear his name'. In the case of Rabia Thakur, a 23-year-old Bengaluru-based techie, the scammers posed as 'Lucknow police, Customs Information Centre', calling to inform her that a FedEx parcel in her name sent from Lucknow to Cambodia carried multiple passports and ATM the initial contact is made and the charges specified, the fraud escalates over the next few days. Victims are asked to join a video call, where the scene is set with remarkable attention to detail. Rabia was asked to download Skype for interrogation. 'There were three men on the other side of the video call,' she said in her complaint to the police. 'They said I needed to record my statement and share my details. They also mentioned that there is an arrest warrant in my name related to human trafficking and money-laundering.' Posing as officers of central investigation agencies such as the CBI and ED or the drug enforcement agency, Narcotics Control Bureau, or even the Supreme Court, the scammers leverage advanced technologies such as deepfake videos blended with 'social engineering' tools to create an incredibly convincing faade of authenticity. In the case of Oswal, the scammers were able to pass themselves off as CJI Chandrachud conducting a fake Supreme Court hearing over Skype. Many victims are informed that they are under 'digital arrest', a fake coinage that has no basis in law. They're told that to protect their families from embarrassment, it's imperative they stay under surveillance until the 'investigation' concludes. Isolation is critical in this process; the scammers forbid the victim from contacting family or friends, tightening their psychological good bit of digital snooping has typically preceded this scenario creation, or what's called in the world of cyber con as the 'pretext' stage. Scammers use the Aadhaar details or social media posts to prepare a psycho-social profile of an individual. The criminals first establish their authority by displaying knowledge about the victim's family, recent travel or financial assets, use it to extricate more confidential details, and then strike. The next step can even include threats. 'The owner of a nursing home in Hyderabad was threatened that his two daughters staying in Mumbai would be kidnapped if he did not comply. While investigating a suspected mule account, we discovered that substantial sums had been transferred from the doctor's account. When approached, he was initially hesitant to share any information, fearing for his daughters' safety,' says Samiran Baishya, Additional SP (Crime), Morigaon, Assam. Baishya has cracked hundreds of cybercrime cases originating from the district, especially Lahorighat, which is said to have become another Jamtara, the Jharkhand town that gained infamy as India's 'phishing capital' in the first wave of cyber fraud. Having pinned down the victim, the scammers make the raptor's last move—of extracting money. Typically, it is under the guise of a 'returnable security deposit to the government' for a resolution of the case in their favour. That amount could rise incrementally as the victim shows willingness to cooperate. For instance, a Jaipur-based former IGP (see case study 'They made me a prisoner in my home') ended up making security deposits worth Rs 2.16 crore over 21 days at the behest of the fake court before realising he was being scammed. Rabia forked out Rs 17 lakh in instalments as security deposit. In some cases, the victim is even instructed to take loans or liquidate assets. This is what befell a lawyer in Bengaluru, who was told she was implicated in a drug trafficking case and persuaded to transfer Rs 14 lakh to avoid arrest. Her tormentors' psychological hold was so strong that she complied with increasingly demeaning demands, including a 'strip search' to prove her innocence. Then they threatened to leak her nude videos to extort an additional Rs 10 lakh.'Scammers operate with chilling precision,' says Lavina Sinha, Deputy Commissioner of Police, Cyber Crime, Ahmedabad. 'They weaponise emotions—panic at the thought of criminal action, and of public humiliation. They raise the stakes gradually, creating a suffocating spiral of fear. And then, they pivot. Sympathy enters the equation. An 'out' is offered, but at a steep price. For the victims, the line between reality and deception blurs. The damage they inflict isn't just financial, it's emotional, psychological, profoundly human.' Many a victim has said that the 'digital arrest' experience was akin to being under hypnosis. However, Bhavya Aggarwal from the California Hypnosis Institute, Noida, says it is not hypnotism but a game of psychological chessboard. It starts with a call from a stranger, using tone, empathy and familiarity to reel you in. Then comes the agency they are calling from—a courier company, Mumbai Customs—and a manufactured concern about your innocence. In the next stage, authority takes over. A 'senior official', exuding power, enters the scene, their fake credentials convincing the victim that compliance is the only way forward. Trust builds; the victim's subconscious conflates authority with honesty, enough to hide it from their family. As scammers ramp up the pressure, the victim's brain enters what Aggarwal calls the 'paradigm of translogic', where fear overwhelms rational thought. The amygdala, or the brain's emotional centre, floods with fear and information overload, hijacking the prefrontal cortex, the rational hub. Manipulation, not magic, is used to leverage trust and trap the victim by activating their survival professionals, says psychologist Dr Upasana Chaddha Vij of Mindscape Counselling Centre in Delhi, are wired to trust authority, and fear damage to their reputation. Fraudsters exploit this by flattering their targets, building camaraderie and preying on their need to protect their family. Jaipur-based psychologist Amitta Shringi highlights societal stigma as a key vulnerability, forcing victims into fight, flight or freeze—most succumb to freeze, complying to 'end the trouble'. It is this mental chaos that the scamsters exploit, confusing even the sharpest of minds. THE WEB OF DECEPTIONIndian investigating agencies are slowly beginning to unravel the large international networks involved in these elaborate set-ups, acting in lockstep with Indian partners in crime. The masterminds, they believe, operate out of Southeast Asian bases; a significant presence of Chinese mafia, too, is suspected. The call centres and the detailed sets are primarily based in countries like Cambodia, Laos, Thailand and Myanmar, which have come to host bustling hubs for cybercrime in areas that lack robust law enforcement, have weak governance or where the local authorities are outright complicit. In Cambodia, for example, scam centres operate openly within compounds owned by influential elites. In Laos, the Golden Triangle Special Economic Zone (GTSEZ) has become a haven for illicit activities, including cyber fraud. In Myanmar, border regions like Karen State and Shan State have become notorious for scam compounds, often protected allegedly by local militias and the military. In some cases, these call centres are housed within casino complexes or industrial parks, giving them an appearance of legitimacy while providing protection from local law enforcement. A UNODC (United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime) report estimated that financial losses in 2023 due to cyber-enabled fraud originating from East and Southeast Asia was between $18 billion (Rs 1.5 lakh crore) and $37 billion (Rs 2.9 lakh crore). A USIP (United States Institute of Peace) report from May 2024 says that, as of 2023-end, the annual value of funds stolen globally by cyber scams was an estimated $64 billion (Rs 5.4 lakh crore).The scammers themselves are a mix of local operators, transnational fraud networks and often victims of human trafficking themselves, caught in what has come to be termed 'cyber slavery'. There are three levels in the hierarchy at these call centres—ground-level callers, supervisors and team leaders, and masterminds. Most of those working as ground-level callers are unsuspecting victims lured from countries like India, Nepal and Bangladesh with the promise of high-paying jobs. Upon arrival, their passports are seized, and they are forced to work as scammers in prison-like conditions under constant surveillance. Those who resist face violence, starvation or are sold to other scam operators. The cyber slaves are also subjected to rigorous training in impersonation, psychological manipulation and regional accents to make their calls appear genuine. According to the UNODC and USIP reports, around 300,000 cyber slaves from over 60 countries are trapped in exploitative conditions in these regions (see A Global Crisis). There are many Indians among them, over 5,000 reportedly trapped in Cambodia alone. Government records reveal that of the 73,138 Indians who travelled to Cambodia, Thailand, Myanmar and Vietnam on visitor visas between January 2022 and May 2024, some 29,466 have yet to by the scale of the menace, the ministry of external affairs (MEA) has been engaged in high-level talks with the governments of Cambodia, Laos and Myanmar to facilitate the rescue of Indian nationals. Indian embassies in Phnom Penh and Vientiane have aided the repatriation of 828 Indian cyber slaves in Cambodia and Laos. Some of these rescued Indian citizens have revealed how well-oiled the operations are, with separate departments dedicated to recruitment, fraud execution and money-laundering. The supervisors and team leaders are mostly locals from the base countries like Cambodia and Laos who manage the day-to-day operations and monitor the ground callers. At the top of the hierarchy are allegedly Chinese nationals who organise and control the networks. They are responsible for funding, designing sophisticated technical set-ups and laundering the stolen money. Since July 2023, Myanmar has extradited 49,000 suspects to China for their involvement in 1.94 million cases related to telecom and internet fraud. HOW THE MONEY IS MOVEDScammers tap local agents to procure SIM cards and target mostly low-income individuals, such as rickshaw drivers or daily wage earners, to open bank accounts in exchange for small payments. Opened with stolen or coerced documents, a pool of such mule accounts becomes a critical component in the financial network of the scammers, aiding quick, anonymous money investigations reveal how cyber criminals employ 'rooted' mobile devices and automated systems to transfer funds seamlessly. Rooted devices bypass built-in security features, enabling scammers to intercept OTPs (one-time passwords) and authorise transfers without the mule account-holder's knowledge. A recent police raid in Gujarat exposed one such operation where mule accounts in India were traced to Taiwanese scammers using rooted devices to manage funds remotely. The local scam hubs, located in cities like Vadodara and Surat, collected, transferred and laundered the stolen mule accounts, the funds are funnelled through unregistered payment gateways, allowing them to cross international borders without detection. The Gujarat police found mule accounts linked to digital payment gateways categorised into three levels: T1 for online betting, T2 for investment scams and T3 for more complex frauds like 'digital arrests'. The money trail often ends at cryptocurrency exchanges, routed through complex channels via financial havens like Taiwan, Dubai and others. This shift to digital assets has made the task of investigators even tougher, as cryptocurrencies bypass traditional banking systems. The scammers also exploit the delay between victims transferring the money, becoming aware of the fraud, freezing their accounts and filing a complaint. By this time, the money has gone through several layers of Gujarat investigation, which saw the arrest of 17 Indians and four Taiwanese nationals, has found that the latter were earning Rs 1-2 crore per day and were planning to recruit more local agents to expand their network and generate up to Rs 10 crore daily. And though local arrests have been made, the foreign masterminds remain elusive. The Indian operators often have no direct connection to the overseas syndicates, acting only as middlemen to ensure the smooth functioning of mule accounts and financial investigations have also uncovered shocking details about the involvement of bank insiders. For instance, in Puri's case, the money swindled from him was funnelled through more than 70 accounts, including one in the name of one Suman Rani at HDFC Bank's Rupana branch in Muktsar, Punjab. Suman admitted she opened the account remotely for Rs 5,000. Branch manager Preet Indra facilitated the fraudulent account opening. Another accomplice, Mukesh, withdrew money using cheques from the account, and was in constant contact with cybersecurity experts point to vulnerabilities even within the RBI's financial system. Bank employees on short-term contracts or outsourced KYC (Know Your Customer) agents have access to sensitive data, which they sell or misuse. Some banks, especially their smaller branches, operate with outdated software and lax internal controls, making it easier for employees to manipulate systems without detection. 'Compared with the US, digital banking in India is somewhat compromised on data privacy,' says Florida-based Pankaj Ojha, director, Deutsche Bank. 'In a banking system, the regulator plays a crucial role by forcing banks to plug loopholes.' WHAT THE GOVERNMENT IS DOINGSwift action, persistence and, often, sheer luck, can perhaps help you get back some of the money. Retired IGP Vikas, who transferred over Rs 2.16 crore to what he thought were government accounts, got back Rs 1.7 crore thanks to swift police action and coordination with banks, but the remaining Rs 40 lakh is still untraceable. Most find it difficult to recover any money: the maze of interlinked domestic and foreign accounts defy easy pursuit. That's not counting the super-elusive transfers to cryptocurrency Government of India has recently intensified its efforts to combat this growing menace. The home ministry established a committee this October to coordinate investigations across states. Home minister Amit Shah has announced the establishment of a National Cyber Forensic Laboratory under I4C, which has trained over 1,100 officers in cyber forensics. Plans are underway to extend this initiative to district and tehsil levels. In addition, joint cyber coordination teams have been set up in hubs such as Jamtara, Mewat, Hyderabad and Ahmedabad, while an elite unit of 5,000 cyber commandos is being developed in collaboration with top educational institutions. The Cyber Fraud Mitigation Centre (CFMC) has also been unveiled, fostering collaboration among banks, telecom providers, IT firms and law enforcement. The I4C has issued more than 600 advisories, blocked fraudulent websites and accounts, and collaborated with Microsoft to take down over 1,000 Skype IDs linked to 'digital arrest' scams. Public advisories emphasise that law enforcement agencies, including the CBI, ED or Customs, do not conduct arrests via video calls. Citizens are urged to report scams to the cybercrime helpline 1930 or through the official portal ( experts believe these measures are insufficient. The lack of a cohesive cybersecurity legislation, combined with limited resources for cross-border investigations, means even the most comprehensive local efforts come up short in international scams. A significant enabler of these scams is the misuse of Aadhaar, India's unique identification number system. To counter this, cybersecurity experts are advocating stricter guidelines for the use of Aadhaar outside essential government services. Limiting Aadhaar's exposure to private entities, combined with stronger penalties for misuse, could prevent such identity-based scams. The government must also enforce robust cybersecurity laws, enhance cross-border collaboration and tighten identity data protection, while citizens must cultivate digital literacy and be vigilant enough not to get caught in the elaborate and ever-evolving web of officials, however, assert that it's not so much any loopholes in banking technology or cybersecurity as the psychological manipulation of the victims that scammers rely on. 'There are checks and balances, like transfer limits set up by banks, OTPs and even automated and manual callbacks to account-holders when a relatively large sum of money is transferred. But what do you do when the victim voluntarily transfers the money?' asks Dakshita Das, former additional secretary in the department of financial services under the finance ministry. Policymakers as well as bank and enforcement officials concur that two simple steps can stop such con games—awareness and disengagement. Most banks have issued advisories to customers regarding cyber scams. 'This scam will not happen if you just hang up the phone. The more you engage, the more susceptible you become,' says Das. Follow this advice and you could save yourself trauma and your money.—Rohit Parihar, Kaushik Deka, Amarnath K. Menon, Pradip R. Sagar, Rahul Noronha, Jumana Shah and Avishek G. Dastidar'A suffocating fear lingers on' (Photo montage by Bandeep Singh) It was an unremarkable Saturday. October 5, 12:15 pm. Richa Mishra, a journalist at India Today Television, picked a call from an unknown number. 'This is Karan Verma from FedEx,' said the voice. 'You've sent a courier.' Richa frowned. 'I haven't sent anything.' The voice answered, 'There's been a seizure at Mumbai airport. Suspicious items were found in your name.' Her stomach tightened. 'What kind of items?''Five passports, three credit 200 grams of MDMA.' 'MDMA?' her voice trembled. 'Drugs, ma'am. Your Aadhaar card must have been misused.' As panic set in, Karan transferred her to Vinay Kumar Chaudhary 'from the Mumbai Police'. 'You are involved in drug smuggling and money-laundering. We have an arrest warrant in your name,' he said. 'For two hours, they tormented me in my home.' The callers knew all: her schedule, her family, her fears. 'No money was demanded, but every two hours, they demanded updates, keeping me in a constant state of dread.' When her tormentors hung up, she called up a relative and a senior colleague, who assured her it was a trap. Later, she filed a police complaint. What's harrowing is 'the suffocating fear that lingers on. A digital like losing a piece of yourself', she says. 'Even when the trap is broken, the echoes haunt you, reminding you that the prison was never physical. It was built in your mind.'—Pradip R. Sagar'They made me a prisoner in my home' It began with a WhatsApp call that the retired IGP answered absentmindedly on an August morning. The voice on the other end was professional, almost courteous. 'Sir, this is Mumbai Customs,' the caller said. 'A package linked to your Aadhaar has been detained. It's critical we verify your details immediately.'Vikas, who had once served with the United Nations, didn't flinch. He offered his Aadhaar details, casually mentioning that he had lost his cellphone a month earlier and filed an FIR. 'Oh sir. That explains it,' the caller said. 'Someone must have accessed your data from that phone. Please hold as I escalate this to the CBI.'Before Vikas could respond, he was transferred to another line. The sound of a wireless set filled the background. A sharp, commanding voice cut through. 'Arrest this man immediately! His name has come up in a drug trafficking case. Fake passports and ATM cards in his name were recovered in a raid.'Vikas froze. Before he could process the information, a video call popped up on his screen. The man on the other side wore a crisp white shirt, the emblem of the CBI prominently displayed behind him. His expression was grave. 'Mr Vikas, this is no small matter,' the man said. 'Your bank accounts have allegedly been used to launder Rs 380 crore linked to child trafficking and organ transplants in Thailand. We've identified the parents who deposited money into accounts linked to your Aadhaar in the hopes of saving their children.' The accusation was as extreme as it was outlandish. 'This is not true,' Vikas muttered. The officer immediately softened his tone. 'Sir, this is clearly a misuse of your details. But there's a formal process we must follow to clear your name.'And so the trap was set. Over the next few hours, Vikas found himself pulled into an elaborate charade. The 'officer' explained that a high-powered panel, involving representatives from the apex court, RBI and CBI, was overseeing his case. 'They recommend a refundable security deposit,' the caller said. 'This will demonstrate your willingness to cooperate. It's the fastest way to resolve this.'Vikas hesitated. 'You'll receive stamped certificates for every payment,' the man reassured him. The ruse deepened. The scammers asked about his savings, subtly prodding him to reveal all his financial assets. At first, Vikas resisted. But their courtesy, their insistence on 'protecting his honour', eroded his defences. He ended up revealing details of all his funds. 'You'll need to liquidate these,' the caller obeyed. Four times over the next 20 days, he visited his bank, took a loan against his FDs keeping his phone on in front of the manager and transferred the money. Each transfer was followed by a stamped certificate that seemed official, didn't inform his family. The scammers warned his phone was under surveillance. 'If you mention this case to anyone, they'll be implicated too,' the caller warned. Vikas couldn't bear the thought of his daughter or son-in-law, both professionals in Bengaluru, being dragged into the the 21st day, Vikas had transferred Rs 2.16 crore. Yet the calls continued, demanding another Rs 22 lakh. This time, he didn't have the money readily accessible. A friend dropped in. Noticing his unease, the friend pressed for answers. Vikas finally broke down, revealing the ordeal. Together, they went to the state DGP—a former colleague. The DGP was aghast. 'How could you fall for this?' he there was no time for recrimination. The police sprang into action, alerting banks and tracing transactions. By sheer luck, Rs 1.7 crore was found in a frozen account in Mumbai. Later, Vikas confessed that what shocked him the most was 'how they controlled my mind. They created such fear, spoke with such respect, that I couldn't question them. I was a prisoner in my own home, in my own mind'.—Rohit Parihar'It was as if I was hypnotised' (Photo: Purushottam Diwakar) It started with a call from a 'CBI officer' claiming that her SIM card had been linked to an illegal transaction at a Canara Bank account. Calm and professional, he suggested that Jain's Aadhaar might have been compromised during her recent hotel stays. 'It's possible,' the law graduate and company secretary admitted, unwittingly walking into the web. What followed was an eight-hour ordeal that almost cost her Rs 17 lakh, and left her questioning her own caller had promised all help. Slowly, the conversation even turned personal, with the man sharing anecdotes about his wife and her interest in investments. Jain found herself advising him on mutual funds, while revealing her own financial was briefly suspicious when a 10-page 'Supreme Court document'—Tanvi Jain vs D.Y. Chandrachud—was sent to her. A law graduate, she knew such a case was improbable, but the caller's masterful control never allowed her doubts to take root. He said her Aadhaar was tied to a money-laundering case involving Naresh Goyal (founder of Jet Airways). There were also veiled threats. 'I know how much money you've made,' one of the fake officers shouted during a call, an accusation that brought her to tears. Earlier, another caller advised her to cry and beg if necessary. Their psychological manipulation was seamless—creating fear, then offering support, only to tighten their grip further. The scammers didn't just demand compliance; they cloaked their fraud in layers of credibility. They made her instal Skype and staged walkie-talkie-like conversations with supposed investigators. They even advised her on cyber hygiene—warning her about leaving her Aadhaar or credit card with strangers and downloading unwanted their spell, Jain worked out the logistics of transferring Rs 17 lakh from her account. At the bank, when a junior officer questioned the urgency, Jain insisted it be processed quickly. She claimed she needed the funds for personal reasons, a lie she had been coached to when the accounts she transferred money to bore suspicious names like 'Mittal Enterprises', the scammers convinced her they were masked accounts used by government agencies for security purposes. They made her believe that her every move, even that of her iris, was under the hours dragged on, Jain's doubts began to resurface. Borrowing her mother's phone, she messaged a friend, cautiously asking if the Enforcement Directorate operated in this manner. Though still fearful, she refused the caller's demand for another Rs 3 lakh, funds she was to unlock from her Provident Fund. It was then that she realised what was cutting off the call, she sprang into action. Using her banking contacts, she traced the fraudster's accounts and immediately reported the incident to the cybercrime helpline and the Jaipur police. The scammers were already emptying the accounts, but quick police intervention helped her recover the Rs 17 lakh. The investigation revealed a tangled web of multiple accounts, some linked to NGOs in Shimla and firms scattered across the country. Though the money trail was uncovered, the callers remained elusive. Reflecting on the ordeal, Jain admits, 'I did question things—like why the CJI would be involved—but it was as if I was hypnotised. They knew exactly how to make me believe them. Even as a banker and lawyer, I fell for it.'—Rohit Parihar'You're now a party to the case' It was a summer evening and, exhausted from a long day, the doctor had just sat down with a cup of tea when the phone buzzed. The voice on the other end was calm. 'Is this Dr Preeti, I'm calling from FedEx.' Once she confirmed, the tone shifted. 'A parcel in your name was intercepted in Mumbai. It was found to contain five passports and the drug MDMA.'The doctor froze. 'That's impossible,' she exclaimed. 'I haven't sent any courier.' The caller didn't miss a beat. 'Ma'am, this is a serious matter. I'm connecting you to the Mumbai Crime Branch. You'll need to explain this directly to the police.' Before she could protest, a new voice took over, introducing himself as an inspector from the Crime Branch. In the background, she heard the static of a wireless set. The last shred of doubt vanished. 'Your documents were found with the package,' the officer said, his tone hardening. 'You're now a party to the case.' She pleaded innocence, but the 'officer' was unrelenting. 'You'll need to cooperate. Your statement will be recorded online. Now, tell me—what are your bank account details? How much money do you have?' She hesitated, her instincts screaming to stop, but fear paralysed her. When he demanded she download Skype for the interrogation, she complied. 'Lock yourself in a room,' he ordered. 'This is a sensitive matter, and we can't have any interruptions.'The screen flickered, revealing a man in uniform, his demeanour stoic and authoritative. Behind him, other officers moved purposefully, their presence lending credibility to the charade. For the next four hours, she endured a relentless interrogation. 'You need to transfer all the money in your accounts—around Rs 40 lakh—to this account,' he instructed, sharing the details. 'The RBI will freeze your account for the duration of the investigation. This is a holding account managed by the Crime Branch. It's the only way to keep your money safe.'Her rational mind knew something was off, but exhaustion, fear and hours of relentless manipulation made her do exactly what she was asked. With shaky hands, she executed the transfer. The line went dead. Numb and disoriented, the doctor stumbled out of the room. As she stepped outside, reality hit her like a freight train. She had been duped, the money gone.—Rahul Noronha'I was certain they were real' Sharifa Wahaab had always been the formidable matriarch of her sprawling Surat family—a clan of children, grandchildren and extended kin who orbited her with a mix of awe and reverence. But on an ordinary morning, her fortress of certitude began to call came like a shot in the dark. A cold, disembodied voice informed her that her phone number had surfaced in a phishing scam linked to a 'data leak from the Aadhaar website'. The threat was clear: she was about to be raided by the CBI. In her seven decades, Sharifa had never known fear like the raid didn't happen. Instead, the callers imposed a sinister condition: she was under 'digital arrest', forbidden from telling anyone about the ongoing investigation. Any deviation would bring 'consequences'.For seven excruciating days, Sharifa kept her phone camera on, moving through her daily routine with a shadowy pair of eyes constantly following her. 'A man in uniform spoke to me briefly on camera,' she recounted later. 'The others were in plain clothes, but their voices it carried an authority I could not question. They made me feel like I was guilty of something unspeakable.' Meanwhile, a woman entered the charade, her tone softer, more understanding. She planted the idea that this might all be a tragic misunderstanding. By the sixth day, the ultimatum came: if Sharifa wanted to avoid immediate interrogation, she could provide a 'surety bond' of Rs 70 lakh. The money would prove her willingness to cooperate, and if the investigation exonerated her, it would be returned. 'I was certain these were real officers, so my money was safe. All I wanted was for it to end,' she would later tell investigators. The next day, she transferred Rs 20 lakh from her own accounts, believing she was buying her freedom. The digital arrest was momentarily lifted, but the warning lingered: if the remaining balance wasn't paid within 72 hours, there would be 'visitors'. Sharifa, desperate, turned to the family's investment consultant to liquidate her mutual was then that the web of lies began to unravel. The alarmed consultant contacted Sharifa's son—a 45-year-old international diamond trader. When he confronted his mother, she broke down. The money, moved via a series of 'mule accounts', was already gone. 'She refused to believe it was a scam,' an investigating officer recounts. 'When the reality sank in, she had a nervous breakdown.' Says her son, 'Even now she flinches when her phone rings.'—Jumana ShahSubscribe to India Today Magazine- EndsMust Watch
