India’s Costliest Game: Addiction, Not Entertainment

By Parambrahma Tripathy

She was just 31. A relationship manager at ICICI Bank in Kota. Sakshi Gupta had it all - a stable job, a promising career, and her family's trust. But between 2020 and 2023, her life spiraled into darkness. What began as a personal setback in the stock market soon turned into a massive crime ring. She misused her position to manipulate over 110 customer accounts, most belonging to elderly clients. Fake loans, rerouted PINs, prematurely closed fixed deposits - over ₹300 crore passed through one account she controlled. All to recover what she had lost in online trading. She gambled away ₹6 crores, hoping to win it back. Instead, she lost everything - her money, her dignity, her freedom.  

Surjyakanta Dash was a BSF jawan. Disciplined. Patriotic. From a quiet village in Kendrapada, Odisha. Over two years, he lost ₹65 lakhs in online gaming. His entire salary went into those flashy apps promising rewards, offering dopamine hits instead of dignity. When his money ran out, he borrowed from colleagues, then friends, then family. Everyone warned him. Nobody could stop him. One day, the weight became too much. He took his own life inside the BSF camp in Kolkata.  

Cocktail of false hope, crafted illusions

These aren't isolated incidents. They're warning signs of a much larger crisis gripping our nation. Online gaming, trading, and betting in India have evolved from casual pastimes into a full-blown digital epidemic that doesn't discriminate. It's consuming bank officers and soldiers, college students and working professionals, men and women across every socioeconomic background. What binds these victims together is a dangerous cocktail of false hope, carefully crafted illusions, and growing desperation - all packaged in colorful, user-friendly apps that ping our phones with cheerful notifications.  

The scale of this crisis is staggering. India had over 420 million online gamers in 2022, a number expected to reach 500 million by 2025. On the trading front, the National Stock Exchange reported a 500% increase in first-time retail investors between 2019 and 2022, with most accessing markets through mobile apps. At first glance, these numbers might suggest financial inclusion and digital empowerment. But peel back the surface, and you'll find something far more sinister - reckless gambling dressed up in the respectable clothing of business and entertainment.  

Hooked in an endless dopamine loop

Games like Ludo King and platforms like Dream11, MPL, RummyCircle, and WinZO have names that sound harmless, even fun. But they're not innocent diversions. They're carefully engineered traps designed to simulate reward, to lure users in, and to keep them hooked in an endless dopamine loop. Dream11 alone reported revenues of ₹3,841 crore in FY22 - just one platform among many thriving on this addiction. The business model is simple: let users dream of becoming overnight millionaires, dangle occasional small wins to keep them hopeful, and watch as they keep coming back for more. The devastating losses are borne by individuals and families. The massive profits flow to corporations.  

For India's youth, this has become more than just a bad habit - it's a fundamental rewiring of lifestyle and priorities. Teenagers skip meals to stare at stock charts. College students take out loans to join paid gaming leagues. Office workers sneak in trades between meetings, glued to the flashing red and green candles on their screens rather than focusing on their actual jobs. Many participants have no real understanding of how markets work or what the actual odds are. They operate on WhatsApp tips, YouTube gurus, and Telegram group advice - a toxic ecosystem of misinformation that glorifies get-rich-quick schemes. The fantasy of overnight wealth has become an all-consuming obsession, distorting ambition in the most dangerous ways possible.  

Growing fear of missing out

The reasons behind this epidemic are complex. Yes, these platforms are deliberately designed to be addictive. But there's something deeper at work in our society - a growing fear of missing out, an unhealthy fixation on instant success, a collective restlessness that makes us particularly vulnerable. We've become a generation raised on 15-second reels and instant gratification, and now we're trying to apply that same impatient mindset to building wealth. It's not just about greed. It's about loneliness, about anxiety, about the desperate need to feel significant in an increasingly competitive world.  

The tragedy deepens when we consider how our systems enable this crisis. Governments at both the state and central levels find themselves trapped in a painful contradiction. On one hand, they recognize the dangers - courts have raised alarms, some states have attempted bans, and the human cost is impossible to ignore. Tamil Nadu's ban on online gaming was stayed by the Supreme Court, but the concerns behind it remain valid. On the other hand, the economic incentives are powerful. GST revenues from online gaming companies have already crossed ₹2,000 crore annually, and with the new 28% tax on betting-involved games, that number will only grow. Many states view these companies as valuable revenue sources and job creators, going so far as to license them, partner with them, or even take stakes in them. When money talks this loudly, moral considerations often get drowned out.  

Even regulatory bodies seem hesitant to take strong action. SEBI issues warnings about unregistered investment advisors, but does little to curb the flood of self-proclaimed trading gurus promising impossible returns on social media. The regulatory approach has been inconsistent at best - sometimes too slow to respond, other times too soft when action is finally taken.  

Future of our youth and the soul of our nation

Pointing fingers at the government alone won't solve this crisis. Neither will simplistic calls for blanket bans. The solution has to start much closer to home - in our families, our schools, and those difficult conversations we've been avoiding. We need homes where failure isn't ridiculed, where parents stop asking "Why can't you be more like Sharma ji's successful son?" and start asking "Are you okay?" We need friend circles where people feel safe admitting losses rather than bragging about wins. Our education system needs to teach real financial literacy, not just empty buzzwords about entrepreneurship, but hard truths about risk, probability, and the actual mathematics behind gambling.  

Most importantly, we need to collectively reject the toxic myth of the overnight millionaire. The Indian dream shouldn't be reduced to a high score on Dream11 or a lucky bet on a penny stock. Real success comes from building - from patience, from persistence, from putting in the work day after day. Not from betting.  

Here's the uncomfortable truth we all need to face: the house always wins. Casinos weren't built to make gamblers rich - they were built because the odds always favor the establishment. In the same way, these gaming and trading platforms don't survive because players win big. They thrive because countless ordinary people lose small amounts over and over again, until those small losses add up to massive corporate profits.  

The time for passive concern is over. We need to start talking openly about this crisis. We need to take action. The stakes couldn't be higher - we're fighting for nothing less than the future of our youth and the soul of our nation.

Parambrahma Tripathy is an author and Communication for Development professional with over 18 years of experience. He has worked with organizations like BBC Media Action, Landesa, The Energy Policy Institute at the University of Chicago, IPE Global, and Coceptual Media. He has been recognized with several awards, including the prestigious Laadli Media and Gender Sensitivity Award in 2022 and 2023, Best Lyricist of the Year in 2022, Dr. Radhanath Rath Fellowship for Journalism, Kalinga Literary Youth Award, Timepass Bestseller Award, Srujan India Youth Award, Utkal Sahitya Samaj Felicitation and Odia Yuva Stambha Samman(2023)

(DISCLAIMER: This is an opinion piece. The views expressed are the author’s own and have nothing to do with OTV’s charter or views. OTV does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.)