Ravindra Ojha
In a world where high-profile scams often become stories of myth, where conmen operate under the veil of legitimacy and fool millions, one name has emerged from the depths of deceit: Sukhvinder Singh Khoror. A man who promised an unprecedented technological revolution for Uttar Pradesh, but instead masterminded one of the most brazen financial frauds the state, and perhaps the nation, has witnessed in recent times. The story of Sukhvinder Singh Khoror is not just one of financial deception; it is a tale of audacity, manipulation, and the dark side of the world of corporate promises.
Let us delve deeper into the details of this fascinating case, which bears striking resemblances to the legendary cons of the past — think of the infamous Natwarlal, or the notorious Sukesh Chandrashekhar — but with a modern twist.
A Digital Utopia for Uttar Pradesh
In November 2022, amidst a public ceremony attended by prominent officials, including the then Uttar Pradesh Chief Secretary Durga Shankar Mishra, Sukhvinder Singh Khoror, the Managing Director of Viewnow Marketing Services Limited and Viewnow Infratech, signed an MOU (Memorandum of Understanding) with the Uttar Pradesh government. This was no ordinary agreement. According to the terms of the MOU, the company, under Khoror’s leadership, was tasked with setting up 750 data centers across all 75 districts of Uttar Pradesh.
For a state like Uttar Pradesh, which has been working toward modernization and digital transformation, the proposal seemed like a game-changer. Data centers are the backbone of the digital world, and setting up such a large network could theoretically bring immense benefits: from enhancing data storage capacities to boosting job opportunities, and further positioning the state as a tech hub in India.
On the surface, it appeared like a well-crafted plan that aligned with the government’s digital ambitions, offering a future of employment and technological growth. However, as we know all too well from the history of financial crimes in India, things are rarely as they seem.
The Man Behind the Fraud:
Khoror was not some unknown entrepreneur. He was a seasoned businessman, skilled in the art of persuasion. His company, Viewnow, had a seemingly credible profile. It claimed to specialize in a wide array of digital and infrastructure services. Yet, much like past conmen, Khoror had built a façade so convincing that even the most seasoned bureaucrats and officials were taken in.
The scam was not just about tricking a few gullible investors or stealing money from individuals. It was about building a seemingly legitimate enterprise, one that could easily be mistaken for a government-backed digital initiative. And that’s where Khoror’s genius lay — in his ability to operate at the intersection of government trust and investor confidence.
Under the guise of a large-scale public-private partnership, Khoror managed to pull off a scam worth 13,500 crore rupees.
The MOU itself was a carefully constructed document, promising huge returns, and it gained the stamp of approval from influential officials. With these assurances in place, Khoror managed to convince investors to put in a staggering 3,558 crore rupees.
But there was a critical flaw in Khoror’s strategy — the entire scheme was a house of cards, destined to collapse. He never intended to set up any data centers. The grand promises were nothing but a smokescreen to gain trust and collect funds, after which he planned to disappear.
How the Fraud Was Exposed
The true extent of the fraud began to unravel when Khoror’s actions started raising suspicions. Despite signing the MOU and collecting substantial investments, there were no tangible signs of progress. No data centers were being constructed, no employees were hired, and no infrastructure was being built.
As the months passed, investors grew restless, and some began questioning the legitimacy of Viewnow’s operations. Rumours of financial discrepancies and hollow promises started to surface. The first signs of trouble came when Khoror seemed increasingly evasive in his communications. Instead of responding to investor queries, he became more adept at creating diversions, using a combination of delayed responses and vague reassurances.
At this point, the Enforcement Directorate (ED) stepped in, having received credible intelligence about the fraudulent nature of Khoror’s operations. They tracked him down to the Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi, where he was attempting to flee the country, presumably with the stolen money. The authorities arrested him just in time, preventing a major international escape.
The Legacy of Conmen: Natwarlal, Sukesh Chandrashekhar, and Now Sukhvinder Singh Khoror
Khoror’s fraud has uncanny parallels with some of the most infamous conmen in Indian history. Take, for example, Natwarlal, whose name remains synonymous with the word ‘fraud’. Natwarlal became a household name after allegedly selling the Taj Mahal and even the Indian Parliament to unsuspecting buyers, using fake documents and forged signatures. He was known for his charm, his ability to forge documents, and his audacity. His cons were grand, his scams involved the highest levels of Indian society, and he often got away with them for years, dodging the authorities in ways that seemed almost too unbelievable to be true.
Then there was Sukesh Chandrashekhar, who had even more modern-day flair. His fame came not just from financial crimes but also from his links with Bollywood actresses and high-profile politicians. His elaborate schemes involved duping a range of high-profile individuals, while his manipulations were so sophisticated that it took years for law enforcement to piece together the web of lies he had spun.
Now, enter Sukhvinder Singh Khoror, whose scam appears to follow the same playbook. Like his predecessors, Khoror used the trust of powerful officials to gain credibility, weaving a narrative of prosperity and digital transformation for Uttar Pradesh. But in the end, it was nothing but a mirage.
Khoror’s case raises several pertinent questions about the nature of modern frauds, especially those involving large-scale public projects and investments. One of the key factors that allowed Khoror’s fraud to succeed was his ability to operate in a grey area, where the lines between legitimate business and deceit were blurred. It also highlights a major flaw in our systems of due diligence — the failure to thoroughly verify the credentials and actual capabilities of firms that are given such high-stakes responsibilities.
The case also underscores the vulnerability of investors in an increasingly complex and unregulated market. With the rise of digital startups and infrastructure companies, the lack of stringent oversight has allowed conmen like Khoror to exploit gaps in the system. Khoror’s fraud didn’t just harm investors; it potentially set back the digital ambitions of a state that was relying on technological progress to drive its growth.
Moreover, Khoror’s use of a government MOU to lend credibility to his operation reflects a disturbing trend in which conmen use the sanctity of government-backed schemes to gain access to unsuspecting investors and officials.
The Need for Vigilance and Accountability
The story of Sukhvinder Singh Khoror is a stark reminder that frauds are not relics of the past; they are evolving with the times. What worked in the days of Natwarlal and Sukesh Chandrashekhar may not be the same as what works now, but the core principle remains: manipulation, deception, and the exploitation of trust.
In an age where the digital economy is growing at an exponential rate, this case should serve as a wake-up call. It is essential that we not only implement stronger verification processes for businesses and investment schemes but also demand greater accountability from those in power. Only then can we hope to prevent future frauds of this magnitude, and stop the rise of new-age conmen like Sukhvinder Singh Khoror.
As we move forward, let’s keep a close eye on the promises of digital revolution, for behind every lucrative deal, there may be a fraudster waiting to exploit our trust.
