Hello!
I hope you had a good week. In last week’s post, I described a course I created on basic digital safety. I wrote about the contents, structure, the story-telling design of the workshop, and the audience, who it was aimed for. These writings are a part of Vidarbha Diaries, a series based on my work on building digital awareness amongst communities where access to such knowledge is limited. I introduced it briefly in my first post.
Like me, you too may have observed that elderly people are particularly vulnerable when it comes to anything digital. From simple transactions online be it banking or shopping, to the more complex landscape of social media and instant messaging given its potentially harmful psychological impact.
Today I want to tell you about one such case from this age group. A request for help that found itself to me because of the awareness workshops I was doing in the region.
A phone call that woke me up one morning
“Hello tai.. is your name Janani?” (tai in Marathi translates to sister)
“Yes. Who am I speaking to?”
“I got your number from my sister __, who you know is a social worker. She invited you last month to a session for youths in her slum about being safe online. It was she who suggested I discuss my problem with you, and she gave me your number. I hope it’s OK. “
“Oh yes, I know her. Please go on.“
“Tai, I am in a deep problem. I’m an insurance agent. I’ve published all my contact details online including on Facebook. I am a married man in my 50s, I have two children. I love my family.
3 months ago, I was approached via Facebook messenger by a London-based oncologist of Indian origin. At first, she enquired about insurance. Later she told me about her dream of wanting to return to India to open a cancer-care centre in Vidarbha. Over the next few days, we spoke more about it. She told me how she felt fed up with making money and living abroad. That she wanted to give back to society. That she missed her home country.
I found myself very drawn to her commitment and her outlook. Within 10 days, we were exchanging messages about 20 to 50 times a day. Tai, please believe me: I love my family and I have been loyal to my wife. I am not a rash person. I have not hurt my family or my teenaged children all these years. So you can imagine my shock when I found our relationship quickly escalating. An oncologist and me. One day, she texted: I love you. I cannot setup my dream cancer-care centre without your support. I need you. To my surprise, I found myself expressing my feelings to her too. “I love you too” I wrote back. I have never said such a thing before to anyone other than my wife.
The next 5 days, our chatting continued with the same intensity. I felt truly in love. I was constantly restless and checking my phone for her messages. Then one day, she wrote: I’m coming back for good. I have closed down the chapter of my life in London. I want to work on my dream hospital. My flight is via Mumbai. I will message you from Mumbai. I love you.’
The nature of our relationship was such that I could not confide in anyone. I’m sure you understand me, tai. However, I did tell my nephew part of the story. He asked me to send him the Facebook profile, which I did. He got back to me within an hour.
‘Mama (uncle), this is a fake account. The profile data is not consistent. The posts are also contradictory. There are likes/connections to several other fake accounts. Moreover, I cannot find an oncologist with such a name in places other than Facebook, mama’
I was stunned to hear this. Her next messages were on Messenger, waiting for me to read them. “Hey! Are you there? The Mumbai airport customs authorities won’t let me through. They are asking for Rs. 15,000. I didn’t bring any Indian money with me. Can you help me?” Her messages sounded urgent, loving, pleading.
This was yesterday. I now feel suspicious. But what can one do when feelings of love are involved? I big part of me wants to meet her. I want to go to Mumbai and help her out. I want to believe all of this is true. My brain is telling my heart that all of this is fake. Why would anyone do this to me? What do they gain by it? And yes – I know it could be a man operating this account. I have thought about it. Maybe it’s not a woman at all.
What is your advice? Should I approach the police? Who can help me?”
My response to his account – in brief
With no more than “Hmm”, “OK”, “ji” I had heard his narration on the phone until he was finished. I told him the following – firstly that he was not alone. That such scams were happening to many people. I gave him the example of a well-known journalist who had been duped into a job offer from a prestigious US University (Nidhi Razdan’s fake Harvard job offer) and how it could happen to anyone. Assured him that our ability to ‘detect’ or catch such scams was not a judgement on our intellect. He said it made him feel better to know he was not alone.
Next I proceeded to his case specifics: What did he want to do? Did he really feel like travelling to Mumbai? He knew the whole thing was not true. What was he looking for, from the police? I enquired. This exploration I felt was necessary so that some answers could come from him. My own experiences had taught me enough to NOT take decisions that are not mine to make in the first place. My goal was to nudge and play a strong, supportive, sincere role in enabling the decision-making process for any person who approaches me for help. This balance in perspective is something I have come to value because of years of practise working on different cases. It worked here, luckily, because soon enough he arrived at some clarity on how he wanted to proceed.
For him, at the centre of everything was how hurt he felt. Like a person who had just lost his love. You might argue this was deception. That virtual love through chatting with someone one hasn’t met can’t count. But that is more for the person going through it to realize, in due course of time. I knew he needed to heal and that he would take time. At the same time, my gut instinct told me that he would see through it all eventually and come to a state of equilibrium with his feelings of betrayal, guilt, of having cheated on his family, of having kept secrets from them because of a social media friend request.
For today, I end this narration here
There are many things this episode taught me, which I will reflect upon in the days to come. But I do want to do say one thing: I’m sure we all have elderly people whose digital behavior or vulnerability might be of concern to us. I hope we are able to create a better and safer future for everyone.
Do share this with anyone who you think read it.
Until I write again next week,
Janani
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