Columns
The Cultural Tapestry Of Deception: A Candid Conversation On Scams & Cheating In Indian Society
The Cultural Tapestry of Deception: A Candid Conversation on Scams and Cheating in Indian Society
Article by Palash Krishna Mehrotra
As children grow up in India, their parents often ask them a peculiar question: “Beta, which one is your favorite scam?” It may seem unusual, but the chosen scam reveals a personality type—a guide to the future, of great importance to concerned parents. When I was a schoolboy, my answer remained steadfast: “Mummy, fodder scam.”
Scams in India are generational. Those born today will, in ten years’ time, have their own favorites: Rotomac, NiMo, and others that will emerge with time.
We Indians are born fraudsters and hustlers. The big guns, of course, aim for bigger game with higher returns. Every Indian cheats to the best of their ability, doing whatever they can. It’s what school taught us.
Learning to cheat in India is akin to learning how to survive. If you don’t, society will treat you as an imbecile who never grew up—much like a freelance writer.
The working principle is simple: If you don’t exploit, you will automatically become the exploited. In the end, all the cheating cancels each other out, resulting in no real gain for anyone. Yet, cheating has become ingrained in our nature and culture, much like our driving habits.
From the moment the shopkeeper raises their shutters, they wait for the fly to come flying in. It doesn’t matter if they are the smallest of shopkeepers. That’s why people don’t change neighborhoods; familiarity doesn’t guarantee immunity from being cheated. There is a cold-bloodedness to our human relationships—false obsequiousness always follows a successful heist. The cheater respects the cheated’s stupidity; without it, they would be nothing.
Cheating can manifest in the smallest of things, from plumbers, electricians, and carpenters to the cab ride from the airport or train station.
The cigarette seller keeps five rupees and refuses to return the change.
The mobile phone shop owner sizes you up, then quotes an inflated price for a phone cover.
The parking attendant adds an extra ten rupees for parking.
Every tourist is fair game, which is why we have to chaperone, babysit, and play tour guide to our foreign guests. They cannot be left alone; otherwise, they will be fleeced.
You hand in a five-hundred-rupee note, and the cashier keeps it, returning less change than you expected. When you question it, they act as though you’re being unnecessarily difficult. Secretly, they respect you.
The building contractor cheats. The property dealer dips their hand in the flowing Ganges. The developer has their hand permanently stuck in the riverbed.
That’s why Indian parents always warn their children: “Don’t let your guard down for a moment. The moment you do, you’ve been had.”
In a system where everyone cheats, there is a strange equilibrium. The shopkeeper cheats the customer, but when the shopkeeper has a heart attack, they become the customer at the hospital. And the hospital duly fools them, charging exorbitant amounts for tests and medicines, perhaps even throwing in unnecessary stents.
Then the owner of the hospital has a child who needs to go to school. The school demands huge sums of money for admission, uniforms, notebooks, and textbooks. The school teacher then makes the doctor’s child come to them for extra tuition.
The school teacher’s computer breaks down, so they go to Nehru Place, where the computer shop overcharges them for repairs.
Flush with cash, the computer shop owner goes to the liquor store, where they are also overcharged. But the liquor store owner is already supplying several bottles a month for free to the local police station.
Similarly, the fruit seller invariably overcharges unless you know the neighborhood. However, they have to pay hafta (bribe) to the local goon, cop, or the municipal corporation.
The auto-rickshaw driver cheats you, but when their auto breaks down, the auto repair guy cheats them.
The fancy gift shop owner puts whimsical price stickers on smuggled items, doubling their profits. But when their mother-in-law gets cancer, the hospital gets a chance to exploit them.
Despite our family values, family members cheat each other all the time, especially when it comes to matters of property. The younger brother refuses to vacate prime ancestral property after the patriarch or matriarch has died.
And so it goes.
If you don’t look local enough, if you don’t bargain hard and question every transaction, you will be a sitting duck. That’s the default Indian setting. No Indian trusts the next Indian; trust signals gullibility, which is not a valued trait in our urban jungle.
This is also why scams don’t bother us much. Our only moral worry seems to be the current state of our cricket team and cricketer weddings.
One could argue, why not wake up and carry out transactions honestly, without swindling others?
Ask this question to a devious Indian and see what they have to say.
But don’t believe everything they tell you.
Jarule Jigan
June 1, 2023 at 9:10 PM
These Indians took over my late dad house in Imeshi Ile because he borrowed only 8 million from them. I now know why they are into loan business.
The only inheritance my dad left for house was seized because of 8 million. His house is currently worth over 20 million. If these people are allowed to keep going with their loan business, they will take over all the properties in Nigeria