Ten crore rupees. That’s the price of a life in the digital age, apparently.

At least, that’s the figure currently hanging over Himanshi Khurana’s head. The former Bigg Boss contestant and Punjabi star just became the latest target in a trend that’s becoming as predictable as a scripted reality TV fight. An email lands in an inbox. A number with too many digits appears on WhatsApp. Then comes the demand: pay up or we pull the trigger.

It’s the dark side of the attention economy. We spend years telling creators and stars to build a "personal brand," to be accessible, to live their lives in 4K for the masses. Then we act surprised when the wrong people take the invitation. For Khurana, the "blue checkmark" isn't just a badge of status anymore. It’s a bullseye.

Let’s talk about the logistics of this particular shakedown. Rs 10 crore—roughly $1.2 million—is a steep ask for a singer, even one with millions of followers. It’s a number designed to shock, a psychological sledgehammer meant to bypass the victim's logic and head straight for the panic button. In the old days, you had to physically follow someone to harass them. Now? You just need a burner phone and a rudimentary understanding of how to spoof an IP address.

The police are "investigating," which is the standard PR-friendly way of saying they’re staring at a digital trail that probably leads to a dead end in a call center or a VPN exit node three borders away. This is the friction we don’t talk about. Our legal systems are built for bricks and mortar; our threats are purely fiber-optic.

Khurana isn't the first, and she won’t be the last. This is the new "celebrity tax." If you’re famous enough to have your own Wikipedia page, you’re famous enough to be an entry on a spreadsheet for an extortion ring. These gangs—often operating with the chilling efficiency of a Silicon Valley startup—don't care about the art. They care about the metadata. They track the cars, the luxury watches in Instagram stories, and the geotags on vacation photos. Every "like" is just more data for the ransom note.

It’s a nasty bit of irony. The very platforms that "connect" us also provide a roadmap for anyone looking to do harm. We’ve built a world where privacy is a luxury most people can’t afford, and for someone in Khurana’s position, it’s a career liability. You can’t be a public figure if you’re invisible. But if you’re visible, you’re vulnerable.

The tech industry loves to talk about security. They sell us two-factor authentication and end-to-end encryption. But encryption is a double-edged sword. The same tech that keeps your bank details safe also keeps the extortionist’s identity hidden. Telegram and Signal are great for activists, sure, but they’re also the preferred suites for the modern mobster.

The conversation usually shifts to "safety measures" after these stories break. Hire more bodyguards. Get a digital security audit. Scrub your past. But that’s just putting a bandage on a gunshot wound. The fundamental problem is that the digital world has made it too easy to commodify fear. It’s a low-risk, high-reward business model. If you send a hundred emails and only one person pays, you’ve made more money than most people see in a decade.

We’re watching the collapse of the "safe" distance between the idol and the crowd. In the 90s, a stalker had to breach a gate. Today, they just have to breach a DM.

Khurana is reportedly beefing up her security, which is the only logical move left. But you have to wonder what that does to the psyche. Imagine waking up every day knowing that your public existence is effectively a debt you haven't paid yet. That every time you post a photo, you’re essentially updating your "current location" for someone who wants to bleed you dry.

This isn't just a crime story. It’s a glitch in the social contract of the internet. We convinced an entire generation that being seen was the ultimate goal, forgetting that when you turn on the lights, you don't just see the friends. You see the cockroaches, too.

So, Khurana waits for the police to do their thing. She waits for the next email. She wonders if the next person who recognizes her in public is a fan or a hitman. It’s a hell of a way to live, but hey, that’s the price of the hustle.

The real question isn't whether they’ll catch the guy. The question is, how many more zeros will they add to the next demand before we admit that the "connected" world is just a playground for the predatory?