“You might have noticed that my hands are bent inwards,” she says, adding the stiffness has worsened over the years.

She was also born with clubfoot, which causes the feet to turn in, making walking difficult. “I walk on my tiptoes, but it makes me unsteady.”

Falling is a constant concern and she has toppled over many times.

“It’s embarrassing because I need assistance getting up … some people just walk past me but there are some angels who help.”

Tasks most people take for granted – using a knife, for example – are challenging. Others, like hair brushing or tying shoelaces, are impossible because of Aswani’s limited range of motion and inability to bend over.

June 30 is AMC World Awareness Day and for her photo shoot for this interview, Aswani has on a dress in blue, a colour people are encouraged to wear to mark the day.

She wants better understanding of her rare condition, which occurs in about one in every 3,000 live births. It is acquired in the womb and is related to inadequate room in utero and low amniotic fluid, the liquid that cushions and protects the fetus during development in the uterus.

That was Aswani’s case. “It’s like being in a swimming pool without water,” she says.

“You know that feeling when your hand hurts because you’ve slept on it for hours in one position? Well, that was me but in the one position for nine months.” The stiffness comes from being in one spot for so long.

AMC is typically discovered in utero or at birth. “It was a shock to everyone because I came out with my arms, legs and feet crossed – like the shape of a pretzel.”

Her post-birth stay at Hong Kong’s Queen Elizabeth Hospital lasted six weeks. But hospital visits, along with years of pain, rehabilitation and physiotherapy, would become part of daily life.

“I wore a cast every night and still have memories of the surgeries – the pain, the screaming and the blood.”

Surgeries to help straighten her legs and arms included a metal rod inserted into her right leg when she was four. It’s still a source of pain today, but not enough to stem her humour. “I get stopped at airport metal detectors.”

Now in her early 30s, Aswani is married with two children: two-year-old daughter Ananya and six-month-old son Veer Singh.

At her home in Kowloon, Ananya – fuelled by a lunch of chicken curry, rice and vegetables – zooms around the flat in a pink scooter, mesmerising her wide-eyed brother, who is happily perched on his grandmother’s knee.

It’s a picture-perfect scene of family life, but one Aswani thought she might never experience: several gynaecologists said her physical condition would make conceiving a problem, impossible even.

Undeterred, Aswani underwent intrauterine insemination (IUI), a fertility treatment that involves directly inserting sperm into a woman’s womb.

Family support – she got it from her parents and two older siblings – is vital for anyone with a physical challenge, she says. Particularly as a young girl dealing with discrimination – from her disability, and being an ethnic minority – a strong support network was needed.

“If you don’t have it, everything crashes.”

She owes a lot to her mother.

“There was talk of putting me into a special needs school but mum refused,” she says. “At the regular school I didn’t have access to the school bus service, even though there was one … the school didn’t want to take responsibility if something happened.”

Adoption was suggested after she was born, as was sending her to India to be raised by her grandmother.

“I joke with my mum that if I was sent away I would be holding a broom all day instead of a pen.

“Mum has a degree in politics and could have done a lot, but chose to look after me. I’m grateful because she made me who I am today and on my bad days, she is always there. She lives downstairs … Do you want me to invite her up?”

Minutes later, Leela enters the flat. The resemblance is obvious. “Looking at my mum is like getting a glimpse of my future,” Julie laughs.

Leela says she had concerns about her pregnancy with Julie. “There was no kicking or any movement like I had with my other two babies,” Leela says. “But I had the scans and the doctor said everything was fine.”

Faith keeps them strong. Scattered around Julie’s flat are statues of Hindu gods, while an intricate silver temple takes pride of place.

Religion gives her hope, Julie says. Now she wants to spread it.

“I want to set up a support group for people with AMC and other rare diseases and conditions,” she says, adding she doesn’t know anyone else in Hong Kong with AMC. “I’m worried they are hidden away.”

She understands why people might want to hide from the stigma and stares. Moving around is also stressful.

“If I go out I have to plan every detail: where are the exits, is there a lift or escalator, will I have to use steps, will I be able to get out of my seat. It’s exhausting.”

It can also be humiliating.

In 2014, a KMB bus driver refused to lower the disabled-access platform to help her alight. He then laughed when she said she could not use the rear exit.

“I always get taxis because I don’t want to go through that trauma.”

While Julie’s physical scars are obvious, it’s the invisible mental ones that often go unchecked. But a positive spirit and undeniable strength have driven her, even when faced with the unimaginable.

“I get stared at a lot,” she says. “One time when visiting family in India, a woman, a complete stranger, approached me and said I should just kill myself.”

Julie admits she had suicidal thoughts as a teenager.

“I was bullied as a kid, but the thing is I’m very strong despite having faced a lot of difficult situations – bullying, discrimination, hardships getting a job.

“All this has made me strong. It’s made me who I am today.”