It was one of those strangely quiet Mumbai nights, the kind where the city pretends to rest but never really does. Then a message buzzed in, the kind that slices through whatever you were doing. Vikram Bhatt and Shwetambari Bhatt had been picked up by the cops. Not questioned, not summoned. Arrested. Rajasthan officers, backed by Mumbai Police, walked them out of their place in Bandra just past dusk on December 7. And honestly, for a moment, it felt like the film industry exhaled in disbelief.
Vikram has always had this reputation, the guy who keeps resurfacing in new creative lanes just when people think they’ve boxed him in. Thrillers, romances, those early-2000s classics everyone secretly rewatched. So to see him in the middle of a real life scandal involving a supposed ₹30 crore fraud, it felt surreal, like two separate worlds had collided, one far shinier than the other.
The complaint came from Dr Ajay Murdia, the man behind the Indira IVF network, which is almost a household name by now. He isn’t someone who jumps into drama, at least publicly. But according to him, he was pulled into a perfectly packaged dream. A biopic about his late wife, something warm and meaningful. Then three more films under a larger partnership. The whole thing, he says, was pitched as a grand creative venture worth ₹47 crore, with promises of returns so huge they sounded tailor made for a pitch deck. Up to ₹200 crore, allegedly. It is the kind of number that makes even seasoned business people lean in.
He started transferring funds. Crore after crore. And he waited for some sign of movement. A script draft. A schedule. A casting conversation. Something. Instead, what he says he got were excuses, delays, eventually silence. And now police believe there were fake bills in the mix, inflated vouchers, numbers that didn’t match the reality of anything being produced. A shortfall of thirty crore, vanished into a void no camera ever lit.
But here is where the story refuses to stay one sided. Vikram did not crumble or hide or issue one of those carefully lawyered statements celebrities like to lean on. He said the FIR is misleading. He claimed some documents handed over to investigators might themselves be forged. According to him, everything slowed down because Dr Murdia stopped releasing funds as agreed. In his version, the project didn’t collapse because of fraud, it collapsed because both sides lost sync. He even says he has emails, contracts, the whole paper trail to prove it.
It is hard to tell whose voice carries more weight right now. What we know is practical. A lookout notice had already been issued months back. The FIR was filed in Udaipur. And after the arrest, the couple went through the standard routine, the medicals, the paperwork, the court entry where everyone watches but pretends not to. Rajasthan Police asked for transit remand so they can take the two back to Udaipur for further questioning. More names sit inside the FIR, which means this is not a tidy, two person affair.
And if you stand back a little, the whole thing becomes oddly cinematic. A filmmaker accused of selling a dream. A grieving husband who thought he was investing in memory, not losing money. A police team crossing state lines. Associates in the shadows, maybe talking, maybe not. The sort of narrative that would play beautifully on screen, if it weren’t happening to actual people.
There’s something sensitive about the idea of a biopic born out of love. You want to believe in the purity of it. The fact that the project at the center of this was meant to honor someone no longer here, that’s what gives the complaint its sting. This wasn’t just a business deal. At least, not to the man who filed it.
Still, Mumbai is a city that has seen wilder implosions and stranger comebacks. People fall spectacularly here and somehow return with a film announcement six months later. But the legal system is colder than the industry. It works on signatures, timestamps, bank statements, not feelings or charm or reputation. And this case looks like it will boil down to that, the unromantic side of the story. What was promised. What was delivered. What was taken. Who knew what.
For now, the images linger in that low hum of social media. Vikram stepping into the police vehicle, face caught between frustration and disbelief. Shwetambari keeping close to him, quiet, maybe overwhelmed. Officers escorting them through the same Bandra lanes where premieres and parties happen every other week. It is strange how quickly the backdrop can shift from red carpet to police van.
And somewhere far from that flash of cameras, Dr Murdia is probably replaying every call, every meeting, every sentence that convinced him this was a legacy worth investing in. He will likely have to repeat that story a hundred more times before this ends.
The irony is impossible to miss. A filmmaker accused of manipulating reality is now trapped inside a story he cannot direct. No retakes, no edits, no clever twists. Just evidence, hearings, and a truth that will eventually surface, whether either side likes it or not.
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Sana has been covering film, fame, and everything in between for over a decade. From red carpets to rehab rumors, she brings nuance, wit, and an insider’s edge to every story. When she’s not reporting, she’s probably watching Koffee With Karan reruns or doom-scrolling celebrity IG feeds.
