Puneet Puneet admits fleeing to India was a big mistake IN HIS years on the run in India, Puneet Puneet was constantly looking over his shoulder. He regularly Googled his own name on the internet for updates on the manhunt for him. He moved house regularly, deleted his social media accounts, and quit one job in panic 24 hours after learning police had raided his parents' house. In order to see his family, he sneaked around like the fugitive criminal he was, using a fake name and organising meetings at out-of-the-way places far from his parents' home. He had his freedom for over four years. But it came at a price. Puneet Puneet arrives under police escort at the Judicial Court Complex in Rajpura. Almost as soon as he set foot back on Indian soil, Puneet knew he had made a mistake by using his friend's passport to flee Australia. He flew out on a one-way ticket on June 12, 2009, leaving behind the cool of a Melbourne winter and his identity as Puneet. He travelled under the name of his friend, Sukcharanjit "Sam" Singh, and took a new name when he arrived in Delhi, sweltering in midsummer temperatures of over 40C. The heat was immediately on Puneet, with the police back in Melbourne aware he'd failed to answer his bail at Williamstown police station. "I knew it was a mistake," he told the Herald Sun from inside Patiala Central Jail, a northern city prison where he spent two weeks after his arrest on November 29. After getting in touch with my family I knew it was a mistake. Puneet deleted his Facebook account and stayed in Delhi for about six weeks. It seems sure his wealthy family continued to support their only son. "Everyone was scared and no one knew what to do," he said. I was confused. I was waiting for it to cool down. The next month, Puneet moved to Noida, a satellite city 20km southeast of Delhi. He used a fake name and found work. "I started my first job as a telecaller in one of the local BPOs in Noida," he said. BPOs - "business process outsourcing," better known as call centres - are the lifeblood of Noida. The city's name comes from the New Okhla Industrial Development Authority, which administers it. Western companies have for years used India's cheap labour to cut costs in such work. Puneet's excellent command of English gave him the chance to work as a telemarketer. It is not impossible that he was calling back to Australia, annoying householders with a cold-call for sales or marketing purposes. Puneet settled into Noida's Sector 63, a dusty, soulless call-centre HQ built 10 years ago. A few small stores selling samosas, tea and packets of coffee and sugar operate on the footpaths, but otherwise Noida's streets offer little to keep the workers there after their shifts end. On Friday nights, the predominantly young workers have a couple of after-work choices. They can go for takeaway food at Haldirams Market, a string of fast-food outlets set along a dusty parking lot, where small children beg for money and food. Or, if they have a bit more money, they could catch an auto-rickshaw, India's famous green and gold three-wheeled motorbikes, and head across a few suburbs to the Shipra Mall, four gleaming storeys of modern shops and cafes. Here, Puneet could have joined the other young workers and families who gather here on Friday nights, drinking coffee and chatting as the latest hits from Miley Cyrus and One Direction boom out from the speakers lining the walls. Outside the mall, the incessant honking of car, bus and truck horns speak of the chaotic traffic, and a yellow smog hangs heavy in the air as women with babies on their hips wind through the gridlocked traffic and beg for a few rupees for food. A police officer outside Delhi's infamous Tihar Prison, where Puneet Puneet is being held. Inside, the Lavazza coffee signs, the Samsonite luggage shop, and the Van Heusen shirts in the window, make it look just like the malls Puneet frequented in Melbourne before he ran away. Until his name hit the headlines, Puneet was just another kid growing up in India during the economic boom of the 1990s. He was born on January 7, 1989, in Chandigarh, a prosperous city of 300,000 in the northern state of Punjab, near the border with Pakistan. His mother Geeta Rani and his father Naresh Kumar Rawal doted on their only son, and gave him every opportunity to make the best of his life. Both his parents worked, giving the family a good income. Puneet, who neighbours say was bright student at school, was sent to Australia, an opportunity out of reach of most Indian families. He settled in Melbourne, supposedly studying hospitality, but mainly working as a door-to-door salesman selling phone plans. He had a flat in suburban Newport, a car, plenty of money and became known among his Indian friends as the go-to guy to get Optus phones for everyone. He was 19, and having the time of his life. But Puneet blew it. After a heavy night drinking with his friends, the learner driver got behind the wheel of his car. Driving erratically and dangerously, he snubbed the 60km/h speed limit on City Road in Southbank sped at up to 148km an hour. He had three times the legal amount of alcohol in his blood. As a learner driver, he should have blown 0. Predictably, he crashed. Tragically, into two young mates standing outside the Mantra Hotel. Dean Hofstee, 19, died at the scene. Clancy Coker, 20, survived but was critically injured. Puneet was arrested and charged, and admitted his guilt. But while waiting for his pre-sentence hearing, he fled, buying a ticket in Singh's name, and flying home. He hoped to lose himself amongst the 1.2 billion in the world's second most populous country. Once again, the pampered son had avoided responsibility, failing to confront the pain and grief he had caused the Hofstee and Coker families. "My family tried their best to make me a good man," he conceded from jail. I let them down. My life is going to be miserable and it is not just I who will suffer but my parents will suffer as I am their lone son. Puneet's job lasted just four months. Then, Punjab Police raided his parents' home in Panchkula, near Chandigarh. They didn't find a direct link to Puneet, but he got word of the raid and panicked, quitting his job 24 hours later and moving house. I got scared and thought 'it hasn't settled down, the police will trace me'. It was better for me to go and hide," he said. The Indian fugitive hit-run driver who killed a student in Melbourne five years ago says he feels sorry. The next year or so was spent trying to stay under the radar. He moved constantly, shifting addresses between Noida, and Gurgaon, a wealthy manufacturing city about 30km southwest of Delhi. It is unclear if he worked again, and he refuses to say how he survived. It can be assumed his family funded him, and organised a rental property for him in Noida. By 2010, Puneet began to think that maybe he had pulled off the great escape. He had met a girl from Rajpura, in the north, and told her what had happened in Melbourne. "I told her this thing and I told her the circumstances and that this guy died and she understood it and we dated," he said. He said he felt "a bit relaxed" at this point and by 2012 thought he should consider marriage. The girl agreed, and became his fiancée. He confirmed he had spent time with his family at rendezvous in "different places" - but never at his parents' house. But then, on one of his frequent self-Googles, he discovered that on August 7, 2012, Victoria Police had announced a reward for $100,000 for information leading to his arrest and return to Australia. Puneet's family home. Believing the reward meant there was a bounty on his head, he was once again plunged into panic and despair. "I thought anyone would be crazy not to kill me to get the bounty," he said. A second raid on his family home by Punjab Police made it clear to Puneet that the Australian and Indian police were not going to give up. And on November 29 this year, his fears were realised when he was betrayed by someone very close to him. Police were tipped off on where to find him, and at a secret meeting with his family in the city of Panipat, he was captured after four years and five months on the run. He went straight into custody, never returning to his Noida rental. The great escape was over. Puneet's real name is Puneet Kumar Rawal. Indian officials, his lawyer and Puneet's family are baffled as to why Victoria Police charged him under the name Puneet Puneet. He told the court in Delhi that his name was "only Puneet." The documents lodged in the Patalia House Court in Delhi last week to start his extradition proceedings refer to him as F.C Puneet. It stands for "fugitive criminal." The pampered son with the world at his feet is now chained by the wrists and detained with 12,000 other inmates at Delhi's notorious Tihar Jail. No longer a fugitive, but still a criminal, and one who is about to face the consequences of his actions for the first time in his life. October 1, 2008: A drunk Puneet Puneet hits two Gold Coast university students with his V8 Holden Commodore as they leave the Mantra Hotel on City Rd, Southbank, about 12.50am, killing Dean Hofstee, 19, and seriously injuring Clancy Coker, 20. February 4, 2009: Puneet pleads guilty to culpable driving causing Mr Hofstee's death and negligent driving causing serious injuries to Mr Coker. June 12, 2009: Puneet flees Australia travelling under name of Sukcharanjit Singh. August 20, 2009: County Court judge issues a warrant for Puneet's arrest. March 24, 2011: Sukhcharanjit Singh jailed for a minimum of 18 months for helping Puneet flee. November 30, 2013: Puneet arrested in India.