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Romance Scammers Find a New Way To Prey on Indian Women With more independent adult singles, fraudsters reach out directly rather than through their families Snigdha Poonam Snigdha Poonam Snigdha Poonam is a journalist and award-winning author based in India and the U.K. May 15, 2024 Romance Scammers Find a New Way To Prey on Indian Women Illustration by Joanna Andreasson for New Lines Magazine Listen to this article 22 min It started with two simple words: “Hi, beautiful.” Jhumpa Biswas, 36, would have ignored this direct message from a stranger on Instagram. But intrigued by his name, Mark Anthony, she checked out his profile. He was a foreigner, indeed, and a white guy at that. “Fair and handsome,” she described him to me in her one-room apartment in Gurugram, a satellite city south of the Indian capital of New Delhi, in April 2023. She pulled up a screenshot of his Instagram display photo to prove it. The man had a nearly symmetrical face, a warm smile and well-groomed stubble. According to his bio, Anthony lived in Scotland and worked as a cosmetic surgeon specializing in rhinoplasty. Biswas, who worked as an assistant at a dermatology clinic, was impressed. She replied to him, saying, “Hi.” After two weeks of furiously exchanged messages, Anthony had swept her off her feet with old-world chivalry of Clark Gable vintage. When she said she was single, he asked whether “all the men in your country were blind.” In another conversation, he told her it was “a man’s duty to take care of his woman.” He called her “princess.” No man had called her a princess before. In fact, her experience with men until this point had been negligible. She hadn’t had much time for romance. When she was 16, her father abandoned the family in provincial West Bengal, and her mother, a housewife, moved halfway across the country to Gurugram, which was in the midst of rapid urbanization. Like many working-class women migrants from West Bengal, she found a job in a high-rise apartment as a domestic worker. Biswas and her older sister joined their mom a year later. Biswas started her first job right after high school as a salesperson at a supermarket, where she earned a salary of nearly $50 a month. For the next 10 years or so, she moved from one job to another as her mother took on more domestic work. In 2014, Biswas joined the upscale dermatology clinic with an enviable salary of $600 a month. It made her feel settled. After her sister got married, she and her mother moved into a studio apartment. But even while living in a big city and earning a sizable income, she complained about not having anyone in her life to train her in the ways of the world. “No father, no brother, no husband.” At 36, she felt as naive as a schoolgirl, she said. “I don’t watch the news. Nor do I watch soap operas.” In her free time, she watched trending short videos on Instagram. Her own posts include photos of blooming flowers and goofy cats for her 200-odd followers. “I have posted a few photos of myself, but nothing too attention-seeking.” Once in a while, unknown men would message her, but she would ignore them because they were interested only in a casual relationship. “They don’t know how to talk.” But Anthony was different. She admired that he took pride in his work: “On his profile, he had photos of himself at the clinic — wearing the doctor’s coat, performing a procedure, attending conferences for surgeons.” They soon exchanged numbers and proceeded to chat on WhatsApp. He checked in on her every day, asking: “How are you? Did you have dinner? How is your aunt’s health?” He would also ask her what time it was in India and told her where the clock was pointing in Edinburgh. Some days, he rang her using WhatsApp. On those calls, she was pleased to hear that he spoke good English (“just like any foreigner”) and never used inappropriate language. She didn’t mind that he asked her to send him photo
Romance Scammers Find a New Way To Prey on Indian Women With more independent adult singles, fraudsters reach out directly rather than through their families Snigdha Poonam Snigdha Poonam Snigdha Poonam is a journalist and award-winning author based in India and the U.K. May 15, 2024 Romance Scammers Find a New Way To Prey on Indian Women Illustration by Joanna Andreasson for New Lines Magazine Listen to this article 22 min It started with two simple words: “Hi, beautiful.” Jhumpa Biswas, 36, would have ignored this direct message from a stranger on Instagram. But intrigued by his name, Mark Anthony, she checked out his profile. He was a foreigner, indeed, and a white guy at that. “Fair and handsome,” she described him to me in her one-room apartment in Gurugram, a satellite city south of the Indian capital of New Delhi, in April 2023. She pulled up a screenshot of his Instagram display photo to prove it. The man had a nearly symmetrical face, a warm smile and well-groomed stubble. According to his bio, Anthony lived in Scotland and worked as a cosmetic surgeon specializing in rhinoplasty. Biswas, who worked as an assistant at a dermatology clinic, was impressed. She replied to him, saying, “Hi.” After two weeks of furiously exchanged messages, Anthony had swept her off her feet with old-world chivalry of Clark Gable vintage. When she said she was single, he asked whether “all the men in your country were blind.” In another conversation, he told her it was “a man’s duty to take care of his woman.” He called her “princess.” No man had called her a princess before. In fact, her experience with men until this point had been negligible. She hadn’t had much time for romance. When she was 16, her father abandoned the family in provincial West Bengal, and her mother, a housewife, moved halfway across the country to Gurugram, which was in the midst of rapid urbanization. Like many working-class women migrants from West Bengal, she found a job in a high-rise apartment as a domestic worker. Biswas and her older sister joined their mom a year later. Biswas started her first job right after high school as a salesperson at a supermarket, where she earned a salary of nearly $50 a month. For the next 10 years or so, she moved from one job to another as her mother took on more domestic work. In 2014, Biswas joined the upscale dermatology clinic with an enviable salary of $600 a month. It made her feel settled. After her sister got married, she and her mother moved into a studio apartment. But even while living in a big city and earning a sizable income, she complained about not having anyone in her life to train her in the ways of the world. “No father, no brother, no husband.” At 36, she felt as naive as a schoolgirl, she said. “I don’t watch the news. Nor do I watch soap operas.” In her free time, she watched trending short videos on Instagram. Her own posts include photos of blooming flowers and goofy cats for her 200-odd followers. “I have posted a few photos of myself, but nothing too attention-seeking.” Once in a while, unknown men would message her, but she would ignore them because they were interested only in a casual relationship. “They don’t know how to talk.” But Anthony was different. She admired that he took pride in his work: “On his profile, he had photos of himself at the clinic — wearing the doctor’s coat, performing a procedure, attending conferences for surgeons.” They soon exchanged numbers and proceeded to chat on WhatsApp. He checked in on her every day, asking: “How are you? Did you have dinner? How is your aunt’s health?” He would also ask her what time it was in India and told her where the clock was pointing in Edinburgh. Some days, he rang her using WhatsApp. On those calls, she was pleased to hear that he spoke good English (“just like any foreigner”) and never used inappropriate language. She didn’t mind that he asked her to send him photo

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