What happened and why it mattered
A single WhatsApp text claiming 34 “human bombs” carrying 400 kg of RDX sent Mumbai into a citywide sweep on Friday, September 5, 2025—just a day before Anant Chaturdashi, the final and busiest day of the Ganesh festival. The message, sent to the Mumbai Traffic Police’s official helpline, warned that explosives were planted in 34 vehicles and that the city would “shake after the blasts.” The sender claimed to be part of a Pakistan-based outfit named “Lashkar-e-Jihadi,” and said 14 terrorists had slipped into the city.
The timing couldn’t have been more sensitive. Anant Chaturdashi sees thousands of visarjan processions converge on immersion points, from Girgaum Chowpatty and Dadar to Versova and Marve. With crowds swelling late into the night and traffic diverted across long stretches, even a vague threat can trigger panic. This message wasn’t vague. It was detailed, deliberate, and dropped on a verified police channel that has handled credible tips before.
Within minutes, the city’s standard operating protocol kicked in. Anti-sabotage checks started around key junctions, depots, and immersion routes. Bomb Detection and Disposal Squads fanned out. Dog squads and Quick Response Teams were moved closer to procession routes. Police nakabandis sprang up on arterial roads. Senior officers reviewed CCTV feeds around choke points, bus stands, and parking lots, looking for anything that matched the “34 vehicles” clue.
By evening, the Crime Branch had a lead. The number used to send the WhatsApp threat pinged in Gautam Buddha Nagar, Uttar Pradesh. A team left for Noida the same night, working with the Anti-Terrorism Squad and local police to zero in on a Sector 79 address. The suspect—identified as 50-year-old Ashwinikumar Supra—was detained and brought to Mumbai for questioning. The formal arrest followed soon after.
Investigators say the message was a hoax. According to officials briefed on the probe, the accused admitted he wanted to frame a friend in Bihar as payback in a personal dispute. That motive was spite, not ideology. Still, the damage was real: a full-scale emergency response on one of the busiest festival days, thousands of officers diverted to combing operations, and a city on edge till the all-clear.
A case was registered at Worli police station under section 351 (criminal intimidation) of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita and relevant subsections. The accused was produced in court in Mumbai. Police said more charges could follow if forensic analysis of devices and call data throws up additional offenses—especially if identity spoofing, SIM misuse, or other forms of public mischief are established.
Despite the hoax, the security grid stayed up. Large crowds kept moving through immersion routes across the city, from the famous Lalbaugcha Raja procession to neighborhood mandals in the suburbs. The rain didn’t stop the dhol-tasha. Nor did the threat stop the visarjans. What changed was the vigilance: more checks at barricades, more plainclothes officers in processions, and tighter control at immersion points.
- Threat received: September 5, 2025, via the Mumbai Traffic Police WhatsApp helpline
- Claim: 34 vehicles rigged with 400 kg RDX; 14 infiltrators inside the city
- Action: Citywide combing operations and heightened checks across immersion routes and key locations
- Arrest: 50-year-old man picked up from Noida’s Sector 79 within 24 hours
- Outcome: Threat declared a hoax; case registered; security remained on high alert through Anant Chaturdashi
How police traced the sender and the fallout
How did a WhatsApp message get traced so fast? Investigators typically start with subscriber details and call data records linked to the number. Even with end-to-end encryption, metadata—like when and from where a message was sent—can be crucial. Combine that with tower dumps and device IDs, and investigators can locate a handset with reasonable accuracy. In this case, the trail led to Gautam Buddha Nagar. Coordination with local authorities helped the Mumbai team move quickly from number to neighborhood to a door in Sector 79.
Once in custody, digital forensics take over. Phones and SIM cards are cloned, chat histories are preserved, and searches expand to linked devices and emails. Investigators also verify whether the identity of the claimed organization was borrowed from older hoaxes or online chatter. That vetting helps separate a prank from a conspiracy. Here, police say it was the former: a revenge ploy dressed up as a terror warning.
Why does a hoax still trigger such a heavy response? Because public safety runs on probability, not hindsight. When a message names explosives, vehicles, and timelines before a major mass gathering, police can’t afford to sit back and wait. That’s why the city pulled in extra Bomb Detection and Disposal Squads, placed coastal and traffic units on alert, and ordered round-the-clock checks at immersion points.
The pressure was also practical. Anant Chaturdashi isn’t just a religious crescendo; it’s an urban management test. At peak, processions crawl for hours, traffic reroutes across multiple zones, and emergency response units need clear corridors. In that chaos, a wrong rumor can cause stampede-like situations. The hoax message tried to weaponize that vulnerability—and failed because the city’s emergency playbook is now drilled deep into festival policing.
Police officials reminded citizens that the same helpline has seen similar hoax messages in the past. That history matters. It shapes triage—what gets checked first, which nodes get sealed, and how alerts ripple through patrol units. Over the last year, Mumbai Police have leaned on layered surveillance: CCTV networks at immersion points, drone sweeps where feasible, and more plainclothes personnel embedded with procession marshals.
To the average Mumbaikar, all of this can feel invisible unless you hit a checkpoint. But on a day like Anant Chaturdashi, there’s a quiet choreography behind the scenes. Traffic controllers watch for sudden gridlocks. Beat marshals track processions as they move from mandals to immersion sites. Medical teams stay pre-positioned near choke points. The goal is basic—keep crowds moving and keep fear from spreading.
Legal consequences are likely to be serious. Criminal intimidation covers threats intended to cause alarm or coerce action. When such threats spark mass deployments and public panic, courts tend to look unfavorably on “just a joke” defenses. Beyond the primary charge, investigators often examine whether provisions linked to public mischief or misuse of communication services apply. The exact mix depends on what the forensic audit of devices and networks reveals.
Mumbai Police, meanwhile, made two asks of citizens. First, don’t panic-share unverified alerts. That includes forwarded texts about bombs, suspicious vehicles, or “confirmed” police advisories without source details. Second, report anything odd—abandoned bags, parked vehicles where they shouldn’t be, unclaimed items near route barricades—using helplines or the nearest on-ground personnel. Alerts work best when they’re targeted, not viral.
As immersion processions wound their way through the city—with crowds dancing to dhol-tasha under intermittent rain—the security apparatus stayed up till the last idol went under. The hoax didn’t derail the festival, but it did cost time and resources. For a megacity used to layered threats and loud celebrations, that trade-off remains familiar.
For now, the case moves from crisis management to charge sheets. The accused is in Mumbai’s custody, the fake threat has been documented, and the WhatsApp helpline stays open—because a system that caught a hoax in hours is the same system that needs to be ready if a real message ever arrives.
One last point: hoaxes thrive on attention. The fastest way to blunt them is to keep the verification loop small and the official loop strong. If you see an alarming message, check with verified police channels before you hit forward. That single pause can save the city a night of fear and the force a day of chasing ghosts. In the case of the Mumbai bomb threat hoax, that pause would have spared Mumbai a lot of needless worry—without risking public safety for a second.
