For years, that was my identity. Every Friday evening, I would type those seven letters into a search bar. Before the popcorn was even ready, I had the latest Bollywood blockbuster, a Hollywood dubbed hit, or a regional web series loaded on my phone. The quality was terrible—often someone’s shaky hand recording a screen in a dark theater. But it was free. And I was proud of being "smart."

I sent him the link as a joke. He didn't laugh. He just replied: “That’s my son’s school fees for next year. Gone.”

Do I want to be a consumer of stolen goods, or a patron of art?