If #MeToo was about, 'I share your pain,' Mulhum is about, 'I'm part of your recovery.' Last year, when a wave of women spoke out about their experiences of abuse, 30-year-old visual artist Ayesha Kapadia was among them. "[During that phase,] I was listening to a lot of Prateek Kuhad to make myself feel better. I was talking to a friend when I described Prateek's music as 'balm to my soul.' My friend was like, 'Oh yeah, me too.' At that time, #MeToo was happening, and a lot of women were being very brave, vulnerable and emotionally out there. We were having these private conversations in a WhatsApp group and I really wanted all of us to get into one room and take a break, and just heal, recuperate and then come back to life, being really badass. So, I asked Prateek [whose videos I have worked on], if he would be willing, and he really wanted to help."

It started with a one-off living room concert. Kuhad and guest artiste Kavya Trehan performed, and about 20 strangers closed their eyes and forgot their worries for an evening. "I've never seen this happen at a gig or a concert," says Kapadia. "Everyone was sitting on the floor, just taking it all in. I remember that moment very clearly because this was exactly why I organised the night. Nobody said anything. There was an unspoken rule of not talking about triggers and keeping the vibe great." One of the attendees, Praneti Kulkarni, a retail and exhibition designer, says, "It was a unique experience that I will cherish for life. Everyone at the venue was a stranger to me, but somehow I was comfortable, probably because I knew it was about healing. We did not speak about #MeToo, but all of us had been affected by it in some way or the other. Who knew that all we needed was bubble-wrap flooring, candle-light and Prateek's soothing voice?"