There was once a time when spies wore disguises, passed coded messages under tables, and vanished down dark alleys. But today, in the world of swipes, likes, and chat requests, betrayal wears a prettier mask—a display picture, a flirtatious message, and a soft digital whisper.

In today’s India, where defence readiness is everything and threats evolve faster than policies, the nation's security doesn't just rest in bunkers or command rooms. It now also rests in inboxes, in friend lists, and, increasingly, in careless hearts.

In the digital age, espionage no longer requires trench coats, cipher wheels or secret meetings in dim alleys. All it takes is a friend request, a flattering message, and a vulnerable mind.

India, a country where the armed forces are not just protectors but symbols of national pride, is under attack—not from the frontlines, but from behind the screen. The oldest trick in the playbook of deceit, honey trapping, has become the preferred weapon of foreign agencies.

In such a country, the oldest trick in the spy playbook is honey trapping, and it has been wreaking havoc for decades.

And this trick, this poisoned seduction, continues to claim more victims. The latest to fall was 27-year-old Ravindra Muralidhar Verma—a civilian defence staffer from Maharashtra. His arrest has unwrapped another layer of how desire can so easily be transformed into data theft, how loneliness can turn into leakage.

The latest arrest of 27-year-old Ravindra Muralidhar Verma in Maharashtra has revealed yet again how intelligence operatives from across the border exploit romance and desire to lure individuals into betraying their nations.

Verma wasn’t a top military commander. He wasn’t an undercover field agent. He was a regular young man working inside a civilian wing tied to defence work. But his digital downfall was orchestrated with such surgical precision that it again proved one thing—it’s not always the highest-ranked who break the nation.

Verma was civilian defence personnel, who was trapped by Pakistani agents posing as a woman on social media. This is not the first case, and sadly, it will not be the last.

The mole who mapped our Navy – Verma and the cost of desire

When the Thane Anti-Terrorism Squad (ATS) arrested Ravindra Muralidhar Verma on a quiet Wednesday, it ended months of discreet shadowing, digital tracking, and mounting anxiety. They had been watching him, collecting silent pieces of a very loud betrayal.

The accused, Ravindra Muralidhar Verma, was nabbed by the Thane unit of the ATS on Wednesday after months of surveillance.

He wasn’t wearing a mask. He wasn’t running. He was blending in—just another cog in India’s vast military-industrial setup. But underneath that ordinary identity, he had caused one of the deepest security fissures in recent naval history.

Ravindra Muralidhar Verma was not a high-ranking officer in the Indian Navy. He was not a hardened traitor either. Yet, his access and carelessness, or perhaps his calculated betrayal, led to one of the most worrying breaches in recent naval memories.

Working as an electrical engineer for Mumbai-based Krasni Defence Technology Pvt. Ltd., Verma held keys—figurative ones—to the gates of restricted spaces. His ID card gave him passage to areas most civilians never even hear about: Naval Dockyard, Mazagon Dock, Indian Coast Guard facilities. He walked where security was supposed to be airtight.

Verma, As an electrical engineer and an employee in the electrical division of Mumbai-based Krasni Defence Technology Pvt. Ltd., had access to high-security naval installations including the Naval Dockyard, Mazagon Dock, and Indian Coast Guard facilities. His role granted him routine entry to restricted defence sites across Maharashtra.

But 2024 brought not just new assignments—it brought him “Payal Sharma” and “Ishpreet,” seemingly harmless names, cloaked as naval researchers, but in reality, shadows sent by Pakistani handlers.

According to ATS officials, Verma fell into an espionage trap in 2024 after receiving Facebook friend requests from accounts named “Payal Sharma” and “Ishpreet”—aliases used by Pakistani intelligence operatives.

Conversations began innocently, wrapped in the charm of fake patriotism. The illusion was carefully designed—these accounts claimed to be Indian women working in naval studies. For a man like Verma, curious, maybe a little lonely, it was an easy doorway into emotional vulnerability.

These profiles, operated by suspected Pakistani agents, initiated contact by claiming to be Indian women involved in naval research. Within weeks, the conversations became personal. One of the women, using the alias “Priti Jaiswal”, later moved the communication to WhatsApp.

The switch from public chat to private WhatsApp was intentional—every move calculated. A digital net, disguised in emojis and endearments.

Claiming to be Indian women conducting naval research, the profiles established emotional rapport with Verma before shifting the conversation to WhatsApp.

"He was aware he was sharing restricted data in exchange for emotional intimacy and money," said a senior ATS official.

And that’s the tragedy. He knew. He chose. He risked it all for someone who never even existed.

Despite India’s strict policies against carrying phones in restricted areas, Verma had other plans. He became a human recorder. He memorised sensitive data, drew it out later, voiced it into his phone, and sent it to his handlers like updates in a fictional long-distance relationship.

Despite strict protocols barring phones inside naval sites, Verma found ways around the rules. Police said he memorised details while working and recreated them later as sketches, diagrams, or audio messages which were then sent to his foreign handlers via WhatsApp and social media.

On March 11, 2025, one such voice message surfaced during the forensic analysis. It wasn’t cryptic. It wasn’t code. It was just real, dangerous proof.

"Sir kuch reply nahi de rahe, unka net shayd se band hai. Uno ye aaj ka update de dena. Aaj mein roundup pe gaya tha. So sari sari ship dekhi hai? Vo sari meine diary mein karke tumko kiya ki hai, Aur sir ko bhi kiya hai, par wo online nahi hai."

One day later—March 12—he took a photograph of his notebook. It listed names and locations of 14 Indian naval warships. This was no child’s doodle. Five of those ship details were later confirmed by Indian Navy officials as authentic and classified.

The next day, 12 March, Verma photographed a notebook page listing the names and locations of 14 naval warships. This image was later found in a folder on his phone and was allegedly sent to his foreign handler. Naval authorities have confirmed that at least five of the ships were verified by the Indian Navy to be accurate and classified.

He wasn’t speaking to one person. He had multiple handlers—each masked as friends of his fake girlfriend. He was immersed in their network, sending them drawings, voice notes, even videos.

The ATS said Verma had been communicating with multiple handlers disguised as “college friends” of Priti and Ishpreet. Forensic analysis retrieved messages, diagrams, videos, and audio files sent over months of interaction. The chats had been deliberately archived by Verma, possibly to avoid detection.

Now, with evidence piled up and deception exposed, the law has finally caught up. Verma stands charged under the Official Secrets Act, 1923, and Section 61(2) of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023. His digital lovers—"Priti Jaiswal" and “Sir”—are also named.

“The ATS has charged Verma under the Official Secrets Act, 1923, and Section 61(2) of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023. His foreign contacts—‘Priti Jaiswal’ and the unnamed ‘Sir’—have also been booked.”

It’s possible, investigators say, that coercion crept in after emotional entrapment. International money transfers to his accounts are now under tight scrutiny.

Authorities believe Verma may have been coerced or blackmailed after initial communication, and are probing international financial transactions linked to his accounts.

Back in his home, there is only a mother, broken by shame, pleading to a world that no longer listens.

“He told me he wanted to delete Facebook because of bad people online,” she said. “He is my only support.”

Forensic analysis has uncovered months of archived chats, images, and videos exchanged with handlers posing as ‘college friends.’ The ATS is also investigating if others at the defence firm may have been similarly compromised.

As of now, Verma is in ATS custody till Monday. But the case is far from over. Officials believe others could fall next, and the betrayal may go deeper than it appears.

Verma has been remanded in ATS custody until Monday, as investigators work to trace the full extent of the espionage network. Officials say more arrests could follow.

And yet, the most disturbing part of it all remains—

Money trails linked to multiple accounts and archived chats suggest he was aware of what he was doing. The line between seduction and sedition dangerously faded away in Verma’s and many other individuals’ cases where they were honeytrapped to leak sensitive information.

How ‘Neha Sharma’ trapped a missile scientist

Verma's betrayal may have shocked the nation, but it was not a one-off disaster. The digital battlefield is littered with more than just one fallen name. "Verma is not alone. There are many others who got honey trapped. While Verma’s case is alarming, it is far from isolated."

In 2018, one of India’s most trusted defence facilities, BrahMos Aerospace, became the stage for another espionage case. A bright young engineer, Nishant Aggarwal, once seen as a rising star, was lured into betrayal not through threats, but through friendly online chats.

"In 2018, a young and promising engineer, Nishant Aggarwal, was working at BrahMos Aerospace, India’s premier supersonic missile facility. He was arrested for espionage after falling into a honeytrap."

It started with innocent interactions—Facebook friend requests from accounts that seemed Indian. But they weren’t. "His online interactions with Pakistan-based handlers using fake Facebook profiles such as “Pooja Ranjan” and “Neha Sharma” led to the unauthorised sharing of sensitive missile data." These operatives knew what they were doing. They played a long game—two years of manipulation, two years of pretending to care, until the hook was in too deep.

"The Pakistani operatives posed as Indian women and allegedly lured Aggarwal into sustaining communication over two years."

Finally, the authorities moved in. Aggarwal was taken in a combined operation by Uttar Pradesh ATS and military intelligence. The fake accounts were tracked, their IPs pointing straight back to the heart of the trap—Islamabad.

"Aggarwal was picked up in a joint operation by the Uttar Pradesh ATS and military intelligence. IP addresses linked to the fake accounts traced back to Islamabad, confirming the cross-border nature of the trap."

And what the police found was enough to make national security experts shiver. "Police also recovered “extremely sensitive documents” from his possession, including material related to the BrahMos missile, one of India’s most strategically significant weapons that also played a crucial role in the recent Operation Sindoor against terrorists and Pakistani armed forces."

The case crawled through courtrooms for years, but justice did catch up. "After years of investigation and trial, he was finally sentenced in June 2024 by a Nagpur court. He received life imprisonment under the Official Secrets Act and 14 years of rigorous imprisonment under the IT Act."

Much like Verma, Aggarwal’s downfall was not the result of hate, but of misplaced trust. "Like Verma, his case highlighted how emotional vulnerabilities can become dangerous access points into India’s most guarded defence secrets."

A DRDO lab head and ‘Zara from the UK’ – When lust overrode loyalty

When someone like Pradeep Kurulkar falls, it cuts deeper. Not just because he was a senior official, but because he had access to the very bones of India’s military strength. "Another notable case was that of Pradeep Kurulkar, who was once a respected director at a DRDO lab in Pune. However, he was arrested in 2023 for compromising national defence by falling for a fabricated digital persona."

He thought she was a software engineer in the UK. He thought she was interested in him. But Zara Dasgupta was no woman—she was a weapon, carefully crafted by enemy intelligence.

The woman who contacted him called herself “Zara Dasgupta”. She claimed to be a UK-based software engineer. In reality, she was a Pakistani intelligence operative who lured Kurulkar through suggestive chats, obscene videos, and late-night voice calls made through WhatsApp and other encrypted platforms.

This wasn’t a fling. This was a six-month operation designed to pull secrets out of a scientist’s mouth and push them into enemy hands.

According to the chargesheet filed by Maharashtra ATS, their exchanges spanned at least six months from June to December 2022.

What Kurulkar gave up was not petty gossip—it was gold for the enemy. "During that time, he reportedly shared details about critical Indian defence systems, including drone technologies, the BrahMos launcher, the Agni missile system, and military bridging platforms."

The IP that powered Zara’s charm? Traced. And like so many others, it led straight to Pakistan. "The IP address behind “Zara’s” profile was eventually traced to Pakistan, but by then, much had been compromised."

Kurulkar wasn’t just reckless—he was casual. "He allegedly stored sensitive DRDO files on his personal phone and shared not just technical details but even his personal and official schedules."

When DRDO got suspicious, he blocked her. Too late. Another number appeared, questioning his silence. Just before DRDO caught on and launched an internal probe, he abruptly blocked Zara’s number. However, the deception persisted. He soon received a message from another number asking, “Why you blocked my number?” By May 2023, he was arrested under the Official Secrets Act.

When will they learn? The tragic simplicity of a digital seduction

There are things you just don’t do. You don’t light a match near gunpowder. You don’t share passwords on a public computer. And "you certainly do not send photographs of naval ship placements, missile launcher specifications, or internal DRDO schedules to someone named Angel Priya with a Korean display picture and a profile that claims she is researching naval engineering from Birmingham."

Yet, here we are.

Every few months, one more defence insider, an engineer, a contractor, a scientist, or even a YouTuber, gets emotionally entangled and intellectually paralysed by what is clearly a digital honeytrap.

The government warns against fake call scams. Maybe it’s time to warn against fake girlfriends too. Just as the government runs ads on not falling prey to digital arrest scams, it seems the government now needs to run another campaign asking people not to fall for “Angel Priya” and share sensitive information that can affect national security.

Because even with so much awareness, these traps still work. Why? "Despite decades of awareness about Pakistan’s espionage operations and their use of social media for intelligence gathering, some people still fall for Angel Priyas and disclose India’s most sensitive military information."

Is it naivety? Is it ego? Or just plain foolishness wrapped in loneliness?

Either they do not use their common sense or they believe they cannot be honeytrapped. These individuals need to come out of the teenage romance novel they believe they live in and act responsibly.

We must ask hard questions. "It is not just about Pakistan’s tactics. The bigger question is how these people clear security screenings, possess technical training, and work on missile systems, yet still fall for a few flirty texts and pixelated video calls."

Is it desire for admiration? A false sense of importance? Or just stupidity dressed up as emotion?

"Is it loneliness? Is it some misplaced masculinity that makes them feel important when someone pretends to admire them? Or is it just plain stupidity masked as emotional vulnerability?"

Imagine facing a life sentence because of a fake profile with a cartoon display picture.

Imagine getting a life sentence for sending sensitive information to a fake profile named “Angel Priya” on Facebook.

What we need now is not just NDAs and security clearances. We need real, sharp awareness.

In any case, it is becoming clear that we need more than background checks and Non-Disclosure Agreements. India needs a full-scale, no-nonsense awareness campaign, something between a railway safety jingle and a digital hygiene crash course.

Let the warnings be bold. Let the signs be clear.

Bold posters and compulsory training sessions that say, “Do not send classified files to women you just met on the internet”, “If she calls you ‘sir ji’ after two texts, it is probably a spy”, or “No one falls in love with your ship maintenance job in under three minutes unless they want warship secrets, not you.”

This is not some high-tech cyber war. "This is not espionage of a high calibre. This is embarrassment."

And this embarrassment costs lives. National security is being sold over WhatsApp, one “Hi handsome” at a time.

National security compromised not by sophisticated hacking, but by conversations that begin with “Hi handsome” and end with classified information being passed to our enemies.

It’s not a series of accidents anymore. It’s a pattern. One we must break before it breaks us.

It is time we stop treating this as isolated betrayal and start accepting it as a pattern. A preventable, ridiculous, and yet increasingly dangerous pattern.