The time I got scammed by a friend in Kota, and how ₹1,500 completely broke my ability to trust.** Back

In 2017, I spent about a year in Kota preparing for entrance exams. Like most students there, I was thousands of miles away from home, completely isolated, and surrounded by strangers from different states, cultures, and backgrounds. I had only a small circle of friends, and among them was a guy named Shubham.

​

I knew Shubham for almost my entire stay in Kota. We were not best friends, but we got along well. At one point, **he fell seriously ill with jaundice and was even admitted to the ICU.** After recovering and returning to classes, he told me that his phone had completely stopped working and that he desperately needed a new one.

​

A few days later, he asked me for a loan.

Because I was a student myself and living on limited money, I refused several times. But he kept insisting. What struck me was that he wasn't looking for just any cheap phone—**he wanted a specific, relatively expensive model that was way beyond his budget.** I understood his desire to own the latest and best device, and eventually, my empathy got the better of me. I gave in and lent him ₹2,000.

Months passed.

​

About a month before the final entrance examinations, coaching classes had ended and only the test series remained. I decided it was finally time to ask for my money back.

**That’s when the excuses began:**

*“Give me three days.”*

*“I'll return it next week.”*

*“I have some serious family issues right now.”*

​

Every single time I called, there was a new reason. Soon, he started ignoring my calls altogether. Frustrated, I tracked him down and visited him in person. Once again, he came up with a barrage of explanations and problems. This time, he handed me ₹500 and promised to return the remaining ₹1,500 within two or three weeks.

​

**The following week, he completely vanished.**

He left Kota permanently and returned to his hometown. His phone number was discontinued, and nobody could reach him. Later, the reality set in: **I wasn't his only victim.** He had systematically borrowed money from several other students, including some of his hostel and PG mates. Altogether, he had taken around ₹25,000–₹27,000 from different people before completely disappeared.

​

*The Aftermath: The Erosion of Trust*

​

Losing ₹1,500 was not financially devastating, but the experience left a permanent scar. It was my first real taste of betrayal. Until then, I naively believed that friendship automatically meant mutual trust and goodwill.

That incident taught me a brutal lesson: **beneath the surface of friendship often lie self-interest and opportunism.**

Many people will readily take your generosity when it benefits them, yet completely disappear when honesty, loyalty, or stepping up is required of them. It taught me that appearances can be incredibly deceiving, that true sincerity is far rarer than it seems, and that a person's character is ultimately revealed not through smooth promises, but through how they act when being held accountable becomes inconvenient

.

When we help someone—through money, time, effort, or personal sacrifice—we naturally hope that, should hard times ever find us, that person will remember our goodwill and show us the same kindness in return. Reality, however, is often less reassuring. Many people accept help without hesitation, yet vanish the moment loyalty, gratitude, or giving back are expected of them.

​

**The Ultimate Takeaway**

Life inevitably introduces us to countless people. With every new city, institution, workplace, or phase of life, we forge new connections. But the older I have grown, the more apparent it has become that both the quantity and quality of meaningful friendships tend to drop off sharply. What once appeared to be a vast circle of companions always narrows to a select few whose loyalty lasts beyond convenience, distance, and changing fortunes.

​

Even today, I navigate relationships with a heavy degree of caution, whether they involve friends, acquaintances, or even family. *The lesson was never truly about the ₹1,500; it was about trust and the expectations that naturally accompany acts of kindness*.

​

Human beings are complex and multi-layered. Rarely do people reveal everything they are thinking, or what their true motives are. Some present one version of themselves to the world while hiding another right under the surface. Consequently, I have learned that trust should not be given just because someone happens to be in your social circle. It must be earned slowly, through consistency, honesty, and actions that stand the test of time.

Over the years, I have met many genuine and trustworthy people, so I do not believe everyone is inherently dishonest. But if there is one enduring lesson I carried away from that chapter of my life, it is this: **kindness should never be mistaken for naivety.**

One can remain compassionate without being gullible, generous without being exploited, and trusting without throwing away judgment. The challenge lies in seeing the difference—and sometimes, the most valuable lessons in life cost only a little money, but they stay with you forever.

**TL;DR:** While studying in Kota, I lent a friend ₹2,000 for a phone after he was discharged from the ICU. He dodged my calls, paid back only ₹500, and ghosted the city after scamming multiple students out of nearly ₹27,000. The financial loss was minor, but it completely shattered my worldview and taught me that trust must be aggressively earned, not blindly given.