It was a regular evening in Panchkula when Manpreet Kaur received a call that would change everything.
Sitting at her kitchen table, stirring a cup of chai, she hadn’t expected that this phone call would lead her and her husband into a scam worth ₹17.5 lakh.
A Friendly Introduction
“I still remember the first time I met him,” Manpreet says, leaning back as she recalls the conversation.
“Surmukh Singh, a family friend, introduced us to Captain Sagar Guleria. He said he was a well-connected Army officer, someone who could help us get a government-subsidized loan. I didn’t think much of it then. Who doesn’t trust a uniform, right?”
Her husband, Satpal Singh, a Naik posted at Command, Chandimandir, nods in agreement.
“It all seemed legit. Surmukh knew him, and he spoke highly of Captain Guleria. He even said he’d helped many soldiers with loans. So, I thought, why not? It could be a good way to get financial help for our new house.”
The couple was excited. Their dream home was finally taking shape, but they needed the final push. A loan with a government subsidy sounded like the perfect solution.
The Loan Offer
One evening, Captain Guleria called again. His voice was smooth and confident, the kind of tone that immediately puts you at ease.
“Satpal ji, Manpreet ji, I’ve arranged the loan for you. The ₹17.5 lakh has been credited to your SBI account.
“But to process the government subsidy, I’ll need you to transfer the amount to my account,” he said casually, as though it were a standard procedure.
Manpreet looked at Satpal, a little unsure. “Are you sure about this? He seems a bit too eager to handle the money himself.”
Satpal, ever trusting, reassured her. “It’s fine, Manpreet. He’s an Army officer. If anyone knows the right process, it’s him. Let’s do it.”
And so, they transferred the money. What could go wrong, they thought? It felt like the easy, trusted route.
The Realization: Something’s Wrong
The next day, Manpreet tried calling Captain Guleria to check on the progress of the loan. No answer. She tried again. And again.
“He’s not picking up,” she said, a knot forming in her stomach. “Maybe he’s busy, I thought. He is in the Army, after all.”
But when Satpal called Surmukh, their mutual acquaintance who had introduced them to Guleria, the response wasn’t what they had expected.
“Surmukh’s phone wasn’t going through either,” Satpal says, his voice dropping a little. “That’s when I started feeling something wasn’t right. We’d been scammed.”
The fear settled in like a weight. Manpreet and Satpal spent the next few hours in disbelief.
How could this have happened to them? They trusted someone who appeared to be part of their community, a uniformed officer, no less.
The Vanishing Act
Days passed, and there was still no sign of Captain Guleria. The phone calls went unanswered. No updates. The realization finally hit: they had been duped.
“I couldn’t believe it,” says Manpreet, shaking her head. “We thought we were doing everything right. He had the uniform, the credentials—everything. How could someone like him do this?”
Satpal’s face hardens as he recalls their initial trust. “We should’ve been more careful, but he was so convincing. He had a way of making everything sound official. Now, we’re left with nothing.”
They were left with a void, a loss that wasn’t just financial, but emotional. To be betrayed by someone who appeared so trustworthy was a hard pill to swallow.
The Aftermath: Shock in the Community
News of the scam spread through the neighborhood, and soon enough, other families who had interacted with Guleria began to share their own concerns.
Was there more to this than just one couple being scammed?
Gurmeet, a neighbor who knew the couple, said, “When I heard about it, I couldn’t believe it. I thought, if an Army officer is involved, it must be safe. He was always around, talking about helping soldiers. But to think he was a fraud—it was just too much.”
The community felt violated. Trust had been shattered. How could someone so close to them have pulled off such a scam?
Lessons Learned
Manpreet, still trying to process the betrayal, has a message for anyone listening: “You can’t trust anyone, no matter how official they seem. Even people in uniforms can deceive you.”
Satpal, his voice tinged with regret, agrees. “I know now that we should’ve questioned things more. Never trust anyone with your money unless you’re sure about their legitimacy. Always double-check and verify.”
They both emphasize the importance of securing personal information, especially in financial matters. “We shared personal banking details, and that’s where we went wrong,” Manpreet adds, her voice softer now.
“Never share OTPs or passwords over the phone, no matter who’s asking.”
The couple urges others to remain vigilant when dealing with financial matters. “If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t. Trust your instincts, and don’t be afraid to say no.”
Conclusion: The Fight Against Scams Continues
The road ahead isn’t easy for Manpreet and Satpal. They’re filing a police complaint, hoping for some resolution, but they know this won’t bring back the money they lost.
“It’s hard to accept,” says Satpal. “We were trying to build something beautiful, and now it feels like it’s all been ripped away.”
But through the pain, they’ve learned valuable lessons, ones that might help others avoid the same fate.
The scam isn’t just a story of stolen money—it’s a reminder that even the most trusted figures can have hidden motives.
As Manpreet says, “I hope our story helps someone out there. Don’t let your guard down. Not even for a second.”
