A knock at the digital door. A phone call. A parcel containing drugs? For Indian comedian and actor Anubhav Singh Bassi, it started as a routine delivery notification. It ended with him losing a reported Rs 9 lakh to fraudsters impersonating FedEx and law enforcement. The scam, which has swept across India and is now being flagged by British cybersecurity firms, reveals a troubling evolution in social engineering: the weaponisation of our trust in institutions.
Bassi, known for his observational comedy about everyday absurdities, became the punchline of a deeply unfunny script. The callers, using spoofed numbers and official-sounding language, claimed a package in his name had been seized containing illegal drugs. They escalated the threat: his Aadhaar card was compromised, criminal proceedings would follow. To protect his identity, he was instructed to transfer money into a ‘secure’ account. The fear, the urgency, the authority. It worked.
This is not a solitary tragedy. British cybersecurity experts now warn that the ‘FedEx scam’ is a template, adaptable and lethal. It exploits a universal anxiety: the vague menace of bureaucracy. The parcel, a mundane object, becomes a Trojan horse for panic. In the UK, similar calls have targeted the elderly, with fraudsters posing as HM Revenue & Customs or delivery companies like DPD. The script is the same: your parcel contains contraband; you must pay a fine to avoid arrest.
What makes this scam so insidious is its layered manipulation. It begins with a low-stakes notification, then escalates rapidly. The victim is not robbed in a single transaction but bled dry through multiple transfers. Bassi’s case involved three separate payments, each justified as an ‘administrative fee’ or ‘security deposit’. The fraudsters even played recordings of police sirens in the background to amplify the tension. It is theatre of the absurd, but with real victims.
The cultural shift here is profound. We have been trained to treat courier updates with the same deference as medical alerts. The ping of an app, the call from a delivery driver, the email from a logistics company: these are part of the scaffolding of modern life. Fraudsters are now architects of that scaffolding. They build its every brick with stolen logos, spoofed phone numbers and scripts that mimic the robotic cadence of customer service.
For the British public, the lesson is sharp. Do not trust the caller ID. Cyber security firms stress that genuine delivery companies never ask for payments over the phone regarding legal matters. They do not transfer you to police officers. They do not create a sense of imminent arrest. The moment a call shifts from logistics to law enforcement, it is a red flag as vivid as a post box.
Yet the scam persists because it feeds on a deeper nerve. The fear of being accused, of being caught in a system you do not understand. Bassi’s fame made him a target, but his vulnerability is universal. In a time when our identities are as much digital as physical, a theft of trust is as damaging as a theft of money.
As British firms issue alerts, the call to action is not just about technology but about psychology. Hang up. Verify. Call back using official numbers. The parcel is just the prop; the real crime is the erosion of our faith in the routine. The comedian’s story is a turning point: a moment to laugh at the absurdity, but only after we have locked the door.
