The Trap

Part 1 – The Many Faces of Tanish

At a crowded coffee shop in Hyderabad, three young men sat huddled around a table, their shoulders slouched in defeat. Their conversation was filled with frustration.

“Bro, we worked so hard in college, and still no job. Just because we studied in a B-grade engineering college, no company is even looking at our resumes,” one of them said, stirring his empty coffee cup.

“Even the interviews we cleared… they rejected us just by looking at the college name,” another added, his tone heavy with despair.

Seated at the next table was Tanish, a man in his late twenties. His sharp eyes caught every word. A mischievous smile crept across his face as he leaned over to their table.

“Excuse me, brothers,” Tanish said smoothly, adjusting his leather jacket. “I couldn’t help overhearing. You are from the same college as me, aren’t you?”

The three looked up, surprised. “Yes… you too?” one asked with curiosity.

Tanish nodded confidently. “Same college, same struggles. But you know what? I found my way out. Today I am earning 45K per month. Not because I was brilliant… but because I knew the right door to knock. Or shall I say, the back door.”

The three graduates exchanged hopeful glances. For the first time in weeks, their eyes lit up.

“Back door? What do you mean?” asked one, leaning forward.

Tanish lowered his voice, as though sharing a secret. “There are people in companies… HR, managers… who allow entry if you can pay the price. I only had to pay three lakhs as down payment, and within a month, I was placed with a six lakh per annum package. No struggle, no waiting.”

The boys listened in awe. His words felt like the only ray of hope in their dark tunnel.

“But… will it work for us?” one asked nervously.

Tanish smiled reassuringly. “Of course, my friends. I can connect you to the same network. You just need to arrange three lakhs each. Think of it as an investment. Jobs worth lakhs are waiting for you.”

The hook was set. Tanish gave them his contact number and walked away casually, sipping his coffee. Behind his calm smile, his mind was already counting the money.

A week later, the three graduates called him, desperate. They had borrowed money, mortgaged jewellery, even sold their bikes. Each handed over three lakhs to Tanish, believing in his honey-coated words.

And true to his claim, within weeks, they actually got jobs. Their joy knew no bounds, and their trust in Tanish was sealed.

But good times don’t last long when the foundation is built on lies. Within a month, the truth exploded like a bomb. The racket was exposed, and all those who entered through Tanish’s so-called “back door” were thrown out of their jobs. Their careers shattered, and their savings gone.

And Tanish? He had already vanished, moving on to his next scheme.

In another part of the city, he now played a different role. Wearing crisp formals and carrying a leather folder, he introduced himself as a real estate manager.

“Sir, this land is in prime location, near the upcoming ring road project. Normally it would cost fifty lakhs, but I can get it for you at thirty-five. Only because I have the right contacts in the registration office,” he would say, charming his victims with confidence.

Families who had dreamt of owning a small plot trusted him. He even arranged “smooth registrations” by joining hands with a corrupt officer inside the government office. Papers, seals, everything looked official.

But what they didn’t know was that the same land had been registered multiple times, sold to different people.

Money poured in for Tanish, and with every deal, his smile grew wider.

By the time the victims realized the truth, Tanish was gone. The story splashed across newspapers and TV channels. “Fraudulent Real Estate Agent Dupes Families,” the headlines screamed.

Yet, while the public cursed his name, Tanish was already plotting his next disguise, his next act.

For him, cheating was not a crime—it was a way of life.