Almost a fortnight ago, an email arrived. It was in Gmail, through which I had started my Twitter account (@autumnshade) back in 2007, and it said that the account-linked email address had been changed. The new email was unfamiliar, and I had not requested a change, so I tried to open Twitter and found that my password no longer worked. The two-factor authentication (TFA) required a security key that I did not possess. I was locked out of my own Twitter account; I had been hacked. 

This was alarming because this was the only social media that I browsed seriously, though it has been warped by its owner since he bought the company and renamed it X. Now it has much darkness, and the algorithms chase weird rabbit holes, like the “dragon” that heroin addicts chase; but it is still a better source of news (though everything must be strictly fact-checked) than the legacy media. During my career I read seven newspapers every morning, and I once believed in TV news anchors. Now, I barely get through the single paper I reluctantly subscribe to, scanning the headlines, and trying not to vomit on the Edit/Opinion pages. 

In a panic, I emailed the new address linked to my Twitter account, hoping to retrieve it. “If you want your account back, you have to pay me $100 to get back your account,” said the hacker, “Grahjd Mako”, from valid9016@outlook.com. Even I can tell this is likely a false name, and a temporary account.  

But why only $100? I wondered. “I’m a retired man; I can’t afford it,” I said, truthfully. 

“Okay then, forget about the account go open another account or ask @xsupport to help you,” came back the reply. 

I tried the app support, but it was just prompt hell, and after I gave my details, etc., they said they would get back. 

I had another Twitter account (@editorofdc) that I had opened back in 2019, but that I never looked at. I used it to check my original account and found a new post. Someone had bragged about his crypto investment that had allowed him to buy a new car. The number plates were from Maharashtra (MH, etc.). I went back to the email chain with the hacker.  

“But why have you taken over my account?” I wondered. After all, $100 does not seem to be much to someone who has crypto investments and has purchased a car.  

“It must be a government hacker,” my spouse conjectured. Perhaps, I thought. After all, I had 16,700 or so followers, accumulated since 2007, thanks to stints as an editor. A columnist was hardly likely to build a few thousand followers over the next few years, and there is no chance that I will be a celebrity like Katy Perry (87 million followers), Cristiano Ronaldo (over 109 million followers), or Narendra Modi (106 million bhakts).  

A day later, the hacker replied: “You don’t need back your account if you do then send me the money and you will have your account back”. 

By now I was desperate, though I was never going to give in to a blackmailer (pragmatically, you never know if they will comply or if their demands will cease; also, blackmail is a crime). I wrote saying that he was obviously a talented person who could spend his energy making a lot of money legitimately.  

“When you are done with your advise send the money” the hacker responded, allergic to both advice and punctuation. In any case, I was put in my place. 

Clearly, the money demand was either a ruse to debilitate my social media activity, or a ploy to hack my bank account through any online payment I might make in a moment of weakness. My eldest, a software engineer in Colorado, USA, advised me to take some additional security steps. 

“Hackers are getting very, very proficient,” she told me on Telegram. “Our work makes us do cybersecurity training multiple times a month and it still isn’t enough, people keep getting caught up in risky situations.” (Incidentally, Telegram boss Pavel Durov has accused Reliance Jio of hacking Telegram in the UAE and other places through “BGP hijacking”.) 

One last thing to do: I went to the Haryana police’s cybercrime cell. 

A government office is a government office, no matter how new and spruced up. The duty constable directed me to an empty room with three computer workstations that had enviably large monitors. I waited a while, then impatiently walked downstairs and spotted the Station House Officer walking into his room. I followed him in. This got the wheels of justice to slowly creak into action. 

I wrote a complaint and sent screenshots of the email exchange and the Twitter notification, but a smart younger police official told me that account recovery only happens occasionally. “These people use VPNs to cover their tracks. They are youngsters who spend all their time doing only this,” the official said, explaining that the authorities were always playing catch-up. “If we can make headway, we’ll know in a few days.” 

Well, it’s been a few days. Additionally: no feedback from Twitter support.  

In between, Leader of Opposition Rahul Gandhi announced an excellent manifesto for extra-electoral politics of resistance; and the Congress party has gone on the offensive against the root of majoritarian rule, the RSS, demanding that it show legal documentation for its existence. Mohan Bhagwat has been trying to dismiss demands for registration or taxation, but he is defensive.  

Bhagwat is still oblivious to the fascist torment his regime has perpetrated in 12 years. It will come back to bite him. If the BJP has become all-powerful like the USA, then Rahul Gandhi is being feisty and resistant like Iran, and he has decided to attack the RSS, which is like the genocidal Zionist entity Israel. 

I wanted to convey this, and more, to my 16.7k followers, but my voice was now silenced. My spouse was probably right. Big Brother is watching. 

Aditya Sinha is a writer living on the outskirts of Delhi.

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