By 7:00 AM, our two-bedroom Mumbai apartment transforms into a beehive. My husband is searching for a matching pair of socks (he never finds one). My seven-year-old, Rohan, is practicing spelling words while simultaneously trying to hide the green beans from his breakfast poha under his plate. My mother-in-law is packing lunch boxes with a military precision that would impress the Pentagon.

The neon sign for "MoodX" flickered outside the window, casting a rhythmic blue glow over Priya’s kitchen as she arranged a platter of vibrant, garden-fresh vegetables. In her neighborhood, she was affectionately known as the "Shakahari Bhabhi"—the vegetarian sister-in-law whose culinary skills were matched only by her warmth.

Meanwhile, their teenage daughter scrolls through her phone between sips of ginger tea, while their younger son practices pranayama with his grandmother. The morning is busy but never rushed. Everyone has a role, and everyone is heard.