Traitors with Tripods: True sons of India wear uniforms and die, these traitors  Smiled for the Camera Selling Mother India’s secrets 

Poonam Sharma

A  new kind of war has  brewed in the shadows—not one fought with guns or tanks, but with cameras, smartphones, and social media followers. A war where trust is the first casualty, and your favorite YouTuber might just be a foreign agent in disguise.

What was once unimaginable has now turned into a disturbing reality. India is witnessing a new form of espionage—one that doesn’t involve trench coats and briefcases but instead thrives on trending reels, travel vlogs, and influencer fame. It’s a chilling tale of glamour used as camouflage, and fame exploited for treason.

It all began with a series of shocking arrests under what is now being called Operation Sindoor, a nationwide counter-intelligence campaign launched in the wake of the deadly terrorist attack in Pahalgam on April 22. But what the authorities uncovered wasn’t just about weapons or sleeper cells—it was something far more insidious. A digital web of deceit, seduction, and spying, carefully spun by handlers across the border.

At the center of this storm stood Jyoti Malhotra, a 34-year-old travel vlogger from Haryana who was better known to her online fans as “Jyoti Rani.” Her YouTube channel was a vibrant montage of luxury hotels, mountain vistas, and cheerful banter. Her followers saw her as a free spirit, a woman chasing dreams with a camera in hand. But the intelligence agencies saw something else—a carefully curated disguise.

As it turns out, Jyoti had visited both Kashmir and Ladakh, crucial and sensitive military zones, just weeks before the Pahalgam terror strike. On the surface, she was filming tourist spots and scenic views, but investigators discovered that she was also capturing army camps, troop deployments, and restricted border terrain. These videos, neatly edited and geo-tagged, were allegedly passed on to Pakistani handlers through WhatsApp, Telegram, and Snapchat. What appeared to be harmless content was in fact, detailed reconnaissance footage—sent not to viewers, but to enemies.

Even more damning was her international travel history. She had visited Pakistan twice and China once—none of which her family knew about. They believed she was going to Delhi for work. But in reality, she had crossed the border into the lion’s den. And she wasn’t just sightseeing. During her visit to Pakistan, she managed to meet and interview Maryam Nawaz, daughter of former Pakistani Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif. She attended the Pakistan Day function hosted by the Pakistani High Commission in Delhi and mingled with high-ranking diplomats. A regular Indian citizen, with no diplomatic or journalistic accreditation, had managed to gain unprecedented access to the inner circles of Pakistan’s political elite. Who made those doors open? That’s the question intelligence officials are still asking.

Jyoti wasn’t alone in her activities. Another arrest followed in Nuh, Haryana, where a 26-year-old YouTuber named Armaan was taken into custody. He had been sending videos of Indian Defense Expos—showcasing indigenous weapons, tanks, and military drills—to the same Pakistani official Jyoti had close links with. This official, known as Danish or Ehsaan ul-Raheem, was once attached to the Pakistani High Commission and had been expelled from India on charges of espionage.

What ties them all together is a chilling new pattern. Social media influencers, the digital icons of a new India, are being lured, manipulated, and in some cases, willingly recruited to betray the very country that gave them fame. Why influencers? Because they can go anywhere, film anything, and pass off even classified visuals as casual vlogging. A drone flying over a military base might raise alarms. But a smiling vlogger holding a camera? No one suspects a thing.

After Jyoti’s arrest, what followed was not shame, but strange applause. She gained over 10,000 new followers, 7,000 of them on Instagram alone. Her notoriety had turned into popularity. The Intelligence Bureau had to step in and shut down her accounts to stop her from becoming a viral icon for the wrong reasons.

This response exposed an even deeper rot. There are people within our own society who feel more sorrow when the enemy suffers than when India bleeds. After the Indian Army struck back with a massive retaliation, popularly referred to as Operation Sindoor, a section of the population remained disturbingly silent. No words of praise, no patriotic posts, just quiet disapproval—almost as if they were mourning the enemy’s loss.

It reminded many of a grim warning once given by the late Chief of Defence Staff, General Bipin Rawat. He had spoken of India’s looming threat from not just two hostile neighbors—China and Pakistan—but a third front as well: the ideological traitors within. That prophecy has now come true.

From Haryana to Assam, arrests were made under Operation Sindoor. Influencers, teachers, journalists, and even university professors were found sharing sensitive military information, posting pro-Pakistan content during times of conflict, and openly hoping for India’s defeat. Supreet Singh, Karnveer Singh, and Devendra Singh were named among those accused of leaking secrets. In Assam, more than 50 individuals were detained for posting content supporting Pakistan during military escalations.

In another case, a government school teacher named Shahnaz Parveen publicly posted prayers for Pakistani soldiers during the conflict. The incident sparked outrage, but it also pointed to a deeper truth—there are silent sympathizers walking among us, sometimes teaching our children, shaping minds while harboring loyalties elsewhere.

Even within academia, the lines between dissent and dangerous rhetoric blurred. A professor from Ashoka University, Ali Khan Mahmudabad, was booked for making inflammatory statements at the height of military tensions. His words, investigators believe, could have incited communal unrest at a time when national unity was most crucial.

The Pakistani spy agency ISI has adapted to this new digital battleground. They no longer recruit in smoky bars or war zones. They find their assets on Instagram, YouTube, and Telegram. Through a process called social profiling, they identify potential recruits by studying their background, emotional triggers, ideological leanings, and financial desperation. They look for those who are disgruntled, ambitious, or simply greedy. Jyoti Malhotra fit the mold perfectly. So did Armaan. And so might others who have yet to be exposed.

What makes this war different is that it’s not just being fought on the borders. It’s being fought on your timeline, in your DMs, and sometimes, in your own community WhatsApp group. It’s a psychological war where soldiers wear no uniforms, and battles are fought in the comments section. The real enemy is complacency—the belief that betrayal only happens in stories, not in suburbs and selfie videos.

As this espionage ring unravels, it becomes increasingly clear: India’s enemies have changed their tactics, and so must we. The time for romanticizing dissent has passed. This is no longer a battle of opinions but of loyalties. The new spies don’t need guns—they have followers. They don’t need to steal files—they livestream them. In this era, the most dangerous traitor is the one who smiles at the camera, whispers behind the scenes, and tags their handler with a hashtag.

The real battlefield is not Kashmir. It’s trust. And right now, that trust is under attack.