'Tatlubaaj': From Con Artist to Cyber Crook

Manjari MishraIn the cluster of 18 villages in Govardhan, pressed against the Rajasthan–Haryana border, Mohammad Shamim is spoken of with a mix of awe and amusement. To admiring villagers, the smooth-talking octogenarian is a 'harfan maula' — a jack of all trades. To the police, he is simply Shamim Tatlubaaj, a scamster in local parlance.
Shamim never needed a katta or tamancha. His real weapons were a honeyed tongue and a razor-sharp wit, honed over decades. He began as a petty offender but climbed quickly. Brass slabs polished and plated to pass off as gold bricks. Cars advertised online that existed only in photographs. Buyers from neighbouring states were lured to Govardhan and sent back wiser and lighter by what amounted to ransom money.In his twilight years, Shamim made a smart pivot. Cyber fraud — low risk, high yield. No hot pursuits across state borders, no mukhbir to mollycoddle, no sudden arrests to fear. With a smartphone in his palm, the world was his marketplace — until a police raid recently shut it down, seizing stacks of mobile phones, fake SIM cards and forged identity documents."There are many Shamims in this belt," says SSP Mathura Shlok Kumar. Kumar led a force of 350 policemen in a marathon 10-hour sweep across four of the shadiest villages. Forty suspects were rounded up, including the gram pradhan of Deoseras village and his son.The belt is largely inhabited by Mewatis, infamous for their criminal activities. "Deoseras alone," says Kumar, "has a population of around 10,000, and nearly 70% have, at some point, been linked to cyber fraud networks operating across India and overseas." The problem defied easy solutions.So, the men in khaki tried something different. In 'dharm ki nagari' Mathura, police began deploying belief as deterrence. Borrowing from the Biblical idea of the "fear of the Lord", Govardhan police invoked fear of Ram and Rahim. At public meetings, villagers were asked to place their hands on the Quran and the Ramcharitmanas and swear to walk the straight path. Some went further, naming involved kin and promising to sever ties. Whether faith holds where fear once failed, remains to be seen."This belt has been a sore spot for nearly five decades," says DIG Agra Shailesh Kumar Pandey. "Till recently, the infamous gold-brick con was virtually a cottage industry. A wealthy man in Delhi, Agra or Meerut would receive a frantic call from a poor farmer claiming he had stumbled upon a gold brick while ploughing his field. Afraid of officials seizing it, the farmer would plead helplessness and offer to sell it cheap. To clinch the deal, he would produce a small piece sawn off the brick—tested and found to be pure gold."By the time the victim realised the truth, the tatloobaaj would be merrily sipping tea in Gurgaon or Jaipur. Slipping across state borders and inter state jurisdictional wrangles only emboldened the fraudsters. The racket grew so rampant that Mathura police were once forced to install public banners warning visitors that all that glittered was not gold," he remarked.Over the years, deep criminal networks, loyal kinship chains and cross-border safe havens have ensured steady prosperity. Recently, a wedding triggered police alarm bells when baratis from Rajasthan arrived in more than two dozen Thar and Defender SUVs. Video footage is now being scanned to identify wanted men who melted into the festivities.So the newly built houses, designer interiors, women casually sporting iPhones and Apple smartwatches are all too visible. But, the tide, say officials, is turning slowly and surely. According to the Pratibimb portal, the cluster logged nearly 60 fraud calls a day in December; that figure has now dropped to six. Drones hover overhead, search teams fan out, and surveillance is round-the-clock.The exodus has begun, and for the first time in decades, Govardhan's seasoned con men are being forced to watch their backs. This time, the police are watching, and so are the gods.(Writer is a senior journalist)