In the bustling heart of Mumbai, where the old-world charm of winding lanes met the neon glow of modernity, lived a 42-year-old woman named Anjali. A devoted mother of two and the pillar of her family, Anjali’s days were a symphony of school pickups, grocery lists, and the ever-present hum of her husband’s business calls. Yet, in the quiet sanctuary of her home’s bathroom—a small, sunlit space with peeling turquoise tiles—she discovered a world of her own.