In the autumn of 2024, Mumbai comedian Ankita Shrivastav lost nearly a million rupees to strangers on a screen who wore police uniforms and wielded the oldest of human weapons: fear. Her story is one of more than a hundred thousand filed in India that year alone, as digital fraud schemes exploiting authority, shame, and psychological exhaustion have become among the country's fastest-growing crimes. The numbers reveal something deeper than theft — a society racing toward connectivity faster than it can build the wisdom to navigate it safely.
How 'Digital Arrest' Scams Exploit Fear to Steal Millions in India
Ankita Shrivastav and millions of Indians suffer psychological trauma, financial loss, and reputational damage from digital fraud schemes that exploit fear and authority.
The scammers were one step ahead of the police and bank authorities.
Mark
Why did you wait so long to talk about this publicly?
Mimi
There's a lot of shame attached to being scammed, especially when you're someone people think of as smart or savvy. I kept asking myself how I could have been fooled. It took months before I could even joke about it.
Mark
The scammers impersonated police. Why was that so effective?
Mimi
Because we're conditioned from childhood to fear and obey authority. When someone in a uniform tells you you're in trouble, something primal activates. Logic shuts down. I knew something was wrong, but the fear was louder.
Mark
You mentioned they kept you on the call for eight hours. Why not just hang up?
Mimi
Because they made it clear that hanging up would make things worse—that I'd be admitting guilt, that my case would escalate. They controlled the narrative completely. I was trapped in a psychological cage.
Mark
What did the police say when you reported it?
Mimi
That there were thousands of cases like mine pending. They were overwhelmed. The scammers move faster than the system can respond. By the time you report it, the money is already gone, moved through multiple accounts.
Mark
Do you think the comedy sketch actually helped you process it?
Mimi
Absolutely. Turning it into something I could share, something that might help others recognize the pattern—that transformed it from something that happened to me into something I could control and use.
Mark
What would you tell someone who's currently in a digital arrest scam?
Mimi
Stop. Hang up. Real police don't conduct investigations over video calls. Real authorities don't demand money immediately. Trust that instinct telling you something is wrong. And please, tell someone. The shame is the scammer's greatest tool.
The Pulse
- A fabricated FedEx call escalated into an eight-hour video ordeal that left a sharp, educated comedian psychologically broken and nearly $9,300 poorer — proof that no profile is immune.
- India recorded over 220 billion rupees in digital fraud losses in a single year, with cybercrime cases surging 50% since 2021 and roughly 100,000 investigations still pending — the system is visibly overwhelmed.
- Scammers are not merely tech-savvy; they are students of human psychology, weaponizing ingrained fear of authority, sunk-cost thinking, and the terror of public shame to keep victims compliant and silent.
- Government responses — a national coordination centre, AI-powered mule-account detection, a fraud helpline — are expanding, but experts warn that digital literacy gaps remain the deepest and least-addressed vulnerability.
- Shrivastav's decision to perform her trauma as comedy was itself an act of defiance, her central message stark: if it happened to her, it can happen to anyone — and the scammers are counting on your silence.
In the autumn of 2024, Mumbai comedian Ankita Shrivastav lost nearly a million rupees to strangers on a screen who wore police uniforms and wielded the oldest of human weapons: fear. Her story is one of more than a hundred thousand filed in India that year alone, as digital fraud schemes exploiting authority, shame, and psychological exhaustion have become among the country's fastest-growing crimes. The numbers reveal something deeper than theft — a society racing toward connectivity faster than it can build the wisdom to navigate it safely.
On an ordinary October afternoon in 2024, Ankita Shrivastav received a phone call that would consume the next eight hours of her life. A man claiming to be from FedEx warned her that a parcel in her name had been intercepted carrying drugs. Within minutes, she was on a video call with uniformed men who declared her under "digital arrest" — forbidden from turning off her camera, leaving her home, or contacting anyone. Hours of relentless questioning about her finances followed, the psychological pressure mounting until, exhausted and frightened, she transferred 900,000 rupees to her captors. The uniforms, the authority, the urgency — all of it was fiction.
Shrivastav, a stand-up comedian based in Mumbai, stayed silent about the experience for months. When she finally spoke — through a comedy sketch on YouTube in April 2025 — she described not just the financial loss but the shame that followed. Friends and family struggled to understand how someone educated and street-smart could be deceived. She struggled with the same question. What she eventually understood was that it was not ignorance that made her vulnerable, but fear — a deep, childhood-instilled fear of police and authority that overrode every instinct telling her something was wrong.
Her story sits inside a much larger crisis. India's cybercrime cases rose nearly 18% year-on-year in 2023-2024, with over 101,000 cases registered in 2024 alone — a 50% increase since 2021. Digital arrest scams, fake investment apps, AI-cloned voices, and emotional manipulation schemes have collectively cost victims more than 220 billion rupees in a single year. Around 100,000 cases remain pending investigation, and Shrivastav's own attempts to recover her money led nowhere. "The scammers were one step ahead," she says.
The Indian government has launched coordinated responses — a national cybercrime centre, a citizen helpline, new laws targeting deepfakes, and AI systems designed to detect the hidden bank accounts criminals use to launder stolen funds. Yet the data suggests the tide has not turned. Journalist and author Soumya Gupta argues the core problem is not technological but human: over 86% of Indian households now have internet access, but digital literacy has not kept pace with connectivity. Scammers, she explains, are psychologists first — they study behavior, select targets carefully, and exploit fear, greed, and the sunk-cost trap that keeps victims engaged long after they should have walked away.
Shrivastav's act of going public was, by her own account, frightening. She risked being called foolish, her vulnerability exposed to an audience that knew her as confident and sharp. But her message was precise: if it could happen to her, it could happen to anyone. The scammers, Gupta reminds us, are counting on exactly that — on shame keeping mouths closed and lessons unlearned.
Ankita Shrivastav was sitting at home one October afternoon in 2024 when her phone rang. The caller claimed to be from FedEx with urgent news: a parcel she had sent to Iraq contained drugs, and police had been alerted. Within minutes, she was on a video call with two men in police uniforms who informed her she was under "digital arrest" until her identity could be verified. For the next eight hours, she could not turn off her camera, leave her house, or speak to anyone. The officers asked relentless questions about her bank accounts and transaction history, emphasizing how serious the charges were, how much trouble she faced. The psychological weight accumulated. Confused and exhausted, she eventually approved transfers totaling 900,000 rupees—roughly $9,300. Only later did she realize the entire operation was a fabrication. The money was gone.
Shrivastav, a stand-up comedian based in Mumbai, kept the experience private for months. She did not speak about it publicly until April 2025, when she performed a comedy sketch recounting the ordeal on her YouTube channel. In the nearly thirty-minute video, she narrates the eight-hour nightmare with the precision of someone still processing what happened. "The pressure was intense and after a while, I felt confused and psychologically exhausted. I just wanted the ordeal to end," she told the BBC. What struck her most was the shame that followed—friends and family asked how someone educated, urban, and street-smart could fall for such a scheme. She asked herself the same question repeatedly.
Shrivastav is one of millions. India's National Crime Records Bureau reported that cybercrimes increased nearly 18 percent year-on-year in 2023-2024, with victims losing more than 220 billion rupees to digital fraud. In 2024 alone, authorities registered 101,928 cybercrime cases—a 50 percent jump from 2021. The "digital arrest" scam, where criminals impersonate law enforcement or government officials to falsely accuse victims of crimes and coerce them into staying on video calls while money is extracted, ranks among the country's most frequently reported frauds. Scammers also deploy fake investment apps, deceptive emails, AI-cloned voices, and emotional manipulation to steal sensitive information and extort funds.
The surge reflects both improved reporting and a fundamental shift in how crime operates in India. A Telegraph editorial noted that the NCRB data mapped "emerging anxieties of a society being reshaped by technology, urbanisation and economic change," suggesting that newer forms of criminality are outpacing the criminal justice system's capacity to respond. By the end of 2024, approximately 100,000 cybercrime cases were pending investigation, and roughly 75,000 awaited trial in court. Shrivastav made multiple trips to law enforcement agencies seeking help recovering her money. Nothing came of it. "The scammers were one step ahead of the police and bank authorities," she says.
The Indian government has not been idle. In 2020, it established the Indian Cybercrime Coordination Centre, which works with domestic and international partners to combat digital fraud nationwide. A dedicated helpline—1930—and an online portal allow citizens to report and block cyber fraud. Public awareness campaigns have expanded, and new laws address deepfakes and AI-voice scams. Recently, India's Home Minister announced that the coordination centre was collaborating with the Reserve Bank Innovation Hub to deploy artificial intelligence for detecting and dismantling hidden mule accounts—the bank accounts and digital wallets criminals use to receive, transfer, and launder stolen money. Yet the data suggests these efforts have not yet turned the tide.
Soumya Gupta, a journalist and author of "Bharat Bluff: Inside the cons of India's internet revolution," attributes the vulnerability to a widening gap between connectivity and digital literacy. Over 86 percent of Indian households now have internet access, but understanding how to protect oneself has not kept pace. Gupta emphasizes that scamming is fundamentally psychological, not technological. Scammers exploit fear, greed, ideology, and belief. Once someone is drawn in, they either do not know how to escape, feel too ashamed to speak up, or continue because of sunk-cost fallacy—the conviction that they have already lost so much that they might as well see it through. Scammers study people's online behavior meticulously, selecting targets and crafting schemes tailored to trigger the exact response they need.
For Shrivastav, it was fear of authority that was weaponized against her. "From a young age, we're taught to be afraid of the police and to obey authority. That ingrained fear overrode the alarm bells that were ringing in my brain," she reflects. She was also motivated by a desire to protect her reputation as a public figure—the thought of scandal among her fans made her compliant. Performing the comedy sketch was itself an act of courage. She worried about being called foolish, about exposing her vulnerability to an audience. But she wanted people to understand that if someone like her—educated, urban, considered street-smart—could be scammed, it could happen to anyone. Gupta offers practical advice: be cautious about what you share online, safeguard your data, and remember the golden rule—if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. If something feels wrong, stop and ask for help. The scammers are counting on you not to.
Notable Quotes
The pressure was intense and after a while, I felt confused and psychologically exhausted. I just wanted the ordeal to end.— Ankita Shrivastav, describing the eight-hour digital arrest experience
At the end of the day, the art of scamming is psychological rather than technological.— Soumya Gupta, journalist and author of 'Bharat Bluff'
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Crime & Justice