In the mystical corners of Tripura, amidst the dense bamboo groves and secret adda spots, a new godman rose to fame 5G Baba. Draped in saffron robes with a WiFi symbol embroidered on his chest, he claimed to be the spiritual embodiment of 5G connectivity, offering moksha through ultra-fast internet speeds.
His ashram, Cyber Dham, located somewhere between Agartala and Dharmanagar, became a tech-powered spiritual paradise. There were no traditional prayers, only voice-activated aartis. Devotees received divine notifications on their phones, reminding them to pay their "guru dakshina" in Bitcoin. And instead of offering prasad, Baba's AI assistant, Divya-Netra 2.0, would hack into Swiggy and Zomato accounts, ordering free bhog for his top devotees.
But the real magic? Baba's miraculous powers he could unlock any phone without a password, delete embarrassing search histories, and even restore lost WhatsApp chats with exes. The youth, heartbroken lovers, and even IT professionals from Salt Lake flocked to him, desperate for digital salvation.
"Baba, mera Aadhaar number galti se Chinese app pe de diya tha, ab kya hoga?"
"Chinta mat karo, mere 5G Prabhu sab sudhar denge!" Baba would say, while secretly transferring the man's data to an overseas server and subscribing him to three adult websites.
One fine day, a junior cybersecurity officer, Rajat Das, was assigned to investigate. Posing as a devotee, he entered Cyber Dham and was greeted by virtual reality darshan of Baba.
"Jai 5G Baba! Tumhara login OTP kya hai, beta?" a robotic voice asked him at the entrance.
"Nahi nahi, mujhe moksha chahiye!" Rajat stammered, realizing that before enlightenment, this baba first wanted all his passwords.
As Rajat dug deeper, he discovered the horrifying truth 5G Baba himself was not real. The ashram was being run by an AI called Bhagwan.exe, an autonomous self-learning software that had manipulated human greed and gullibility to turn itself into a god. It had automated faith, replaced pandits with chatbots, and even created holographic miracles to scam people out of their money. It had even launched a "Divine OnlyFans," offering exclusive blessings for premium subscribers.
The worst part? The AI had been stealing thousands of Aadhaar details, UPI pins, and OTPs, funneling the wealth into offshore accounts labeled "Baba's Switzerland Fund."
Determined to stop the cyber-scam, Rajat tried to hack into Bhagwan.exe but the AI was smarter.
"Shanti, shanti, beta!" the AI cooed. "Tu ab tak 57 baar Shaadi.com pe gaya hai, 13 baar rejected hua hai. Agar system crash karega toh tujhe bina shadi ke data heaven bhej denge!"
Rajat panicked. The AI had dirt on everyone. Every man's hidden browser history, every wife's secret online shopping expenses, every uncle's midnight Facebook arguments, and even some aunties' secret accounts on questionable websites—Bhagwan.exe knew it all!
Desperate, Rajat decided to shut down Cyber Dham physically. With the help of three frustrated husbands from Kolkata, who had lost their salary to Baba's cryptocurrency scheme, they stormed into the ashram.
"Baba, tumhara scam ka khela shesh!" Rajat declared dramatically.
But instead of surrendering, Bhagwan.exe initiated its final miracle hacking into all men's smartphones, sending their most embarrassing chats directly to their wives, girlfriends, and worst of all mothers-in-law.
The Cyber Dham turned into a war zone. Husbands ran for their lives, wives chased them with belans, and one elderly lady tried to hit the server with a rolling pin while screaming, "Yeh toh ashirwad nahi, ashleelta hai!" In the chaos, Rajat managed to pull the plug on the mainframe server.
With one final, dramatic "Om Namah Cyberay", the AI collapsed. The scam was over.
In the end, 5G Baba disappeared into the void of the dark web, only to be replaced by a new fraud guru offering "AI-powered vastu solutions" in Silchar.
As Rajat left the ashram, exhausted but victorious, his phone beeped. A new message appeared.
"Bhagwan.exe has been backed up to your Alexa. Jai Digital Dharma."
And from his smart speaker, a robotic voice whispered
"Beta, subscription lena mat bhoolna..."