—especially when played with trust.
LILY and REEN (names changed) were two young women from strong Christian families who moved to Delhi to build their futures. Lily, the family’s breadwinner, worked as a sales executive in Gurgaon, sending home whatever she could spare. Reena, from a financially stable family, was preparing for banking exams and received a monthly allowance. Despite their differences, they lived together like sisters in South Delhi.
Things changed when Lily met a charming young man—an engineer in Noida. Soon, she fell deeply in love. Reena welcomed him like a brother. The three often dined together. He helped them with small errands and soon became part of their lives.
But tragedy struck. Lily’s parents passed away suddenly, leaving behind three daughters. Her elder sister was battling leukemia, and the youngest worked as a nursery teacher in Manipur. The weight of the world seemed to fall on Lily. Reena did everything she could to support her grieving friend.
They both frequently shopped at a store run by a kind and trusted man, Uncle Raju. Reena had been his regular customer since 2007 and even took goods on credit during the festive season. Lily began doing the same. One Christmas, Lily bought Rs 7,000 worth of goods on credit, promising to repay in the New Year.
Then came the twist.
Lily’s boyfriend promised to pay her debt. She was overjoyed. He asked for Uncle Raju’s bank details, and soon, a large deposit of Rs 1,07,000 appeared in Raju’s account. Lily told Raju that the excess amount was for a vehicle purchase. Raju believed them.
Later, the boyfriend—known only as “Lily Bhayya”—began insisting Raju return the money. Trusting him, Raju gave him his ATM card. That night, Rs 50,000 was withdrawn. Another Rs 50,000 was taken the next day via cheque.
But then the truth unraveled.
Two bank officials, along with Uncle Raju, visited Reena. The money, they said, came from illegal transactions. Reena was speechless. She explained everything, but the man they trusted was gone—his phone permanently switched off.
Reena wept alone. She tried to reach him. Nothing. He had vanished.
Uncle Raju now saw Reena as an accomplice. Once kind, he demanded Rs 2,000 monthly from her to repay the stolen amount. Reena, scared and helpless, paid quietly for four months. Earlier, he had demanded Rs 20,000 twice to "end the issue." He even threatened to file an FIR if she failed to pay.
Is it fair for Reena to carry the blame?
Eventually, the truth emerged. The so-called boyfriend, Jona, was none other than the son of a respected pastor in Manipur—now missing and wanted.
This wasn’t the first time such betrayal happened. In a related case, a young man from Gurgaon was interrogated after unknowingly lending his ATM card to a girl he trusted. The card passed through many hands, leading to cybercrime investigations. In April that year, Delhi Police arrested 12 online scammers—including nine Nigerians and three Mizo women—for internet fraud.
Innocent people fall into traps not just because they’re naïve, but because they trust the wrong ones.
Let this be a warning. Always verify. Never hand over your bank or card details, no matter how close someone seems. And if you receive suspicious messages about online prizes or lotteries, forward them to delpol@vsnl.com or khaalnou@yahoo.com.
Behind every sweet lie may be a bitter trap.
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