I was 9 years old when my mother took me to the Sea Lounge at Mumbai’s Taj Mahal Hotel. It was my first visit to a five-star hotel and I was duly gobsmacked. A dessert trolley! A Coke float! Waiters in white gloves!

I was even younger, likely 7 years old, when I first visited Mum’s office. A chair that rotated! Unlimited stationery! A towel hook with your name on it!

Still earlier, when I was around 5 years old, Mum and I were walking home in the Mumbai monsoon rain. Chattering away in my right yellow Duckback raincoat and gum boots, I suddenly noticed Mum wasn’t beside me. I turned around to find that she had closed her umbrella and was using it to whack some guy who had felt her up.

Random memories that, I later realised, had each shaped who I became. A person who believed that you don’t need a special occasion to treat yourself. One who took for granted the empowerment that came with doing the work you choose. And one who brooked no violation of one’s self even at the cost of ‘making a scene’.

To mothers, mother figures, people who have only themselves as mothers, but mostly to my own mother, my deep gratitude for the everyday ways in which you shape our lives and enhance our freedoms. Thank you.