So we’re done with another Women’s Day. Media madness spoiled us silly: ‘Motherhood is sexy, treat yourself.’ To pricey spa hours, to smoky make-up flashed around in a selfie, to a meal splurge at a chic cafe...

My morning was made when my cook caught me in a shy hug, saying “Heppy Women Day.” I wasn’t the sole recipient of this greeting. Running to work between six homes in twice as many hours, this simple Maharashtrian mother wished every employer. Her English broken, her spirit not, she is proud. Proud of words picked up from her kids, prouder of being sole provider for them. Proudest of being able to realise her daughter’s dream — of using those shared genes to graduate a pastry chef.