Witty Bean

I am happily nesting in my warm, new home on the Wordpress platform. The champagne has been popped, everyone’s had their finger foods and I’m getting down to doing some really good writing. Dearest reader, won’t you visit?   My new permanent address: wittybean.com Come soon! Our coffee’s getting cold!

In a curious case of reverse gender inequality, someone asked this question recently. Why is it considered acceptable to say “we want a baby girl”, or even “gender doesn’t matter”. If one wants a baby boy, is it still taboo to express that?

When the days get colder and strange things lurk at the periphery of your vision. You pull your sweater close, because know it's winter. 

I live in a joint family. My in-laws, my MIL’s mom, my BIL and his wife and my husband and me. So 7 adults, plus my 2 kids and one crazy puppy. Most days it’s not as intense as it appears, because we’re well adjusted and know our boundaries. Plus the house is large, and everyone has their space to hang out or sulk in. The icing on the cake is that my BIL’s wife is my younger sister, Krithika (BIL and my behna met at my wedding and got married 7 years later), so that makes it even sweeter.

Guess who’s moving?

It was 2 am, and I woke up with the most bizarre thought. Not a dream or a nightmare.But an actual well formed thought.

The world is full of magic, if you know where to look. September 2019.It was a lovely day at the park. The sun was trickling down the sky, as we walked across the lush grass. I eyed a nice spot by the water fountains and Nirav ambled in his merry way, a few feet behind. That’s when he saw them.

Do you feel like day-old poop sometimes? Like, you're not good enough and the whole world can see it? Know this - no matter how much you suck at everything, there's always a silver lining! Always. Read on and you'll understand. This is an old post, but hey, it always puts things in perspective for me. I'm Magic, baby and lord do my patients agree!

Type.Type.Type. Story complete. Grammar check and edit. Hover over the send button. No, how about one more read through? A quick trip to Google. As a writer, my google search history is both horrific and hilarious. How fast do corpses mummify in tropical weather? 5 ways to get arrested and make bail. The biochemistry of an exotic poison. Why do zombies run fast?

Dear Husband, It’s been 14 years. So a mere “Happy Anniversary” or “I love you” seem bland, considering I’m supposed to be clever with words. 

Are you a sensitive person? Do you hurt easily and often, when someone is blunt or unkind with you?  

Pumped to see my spooky story included in one of my favorite online magazines, Fiction Quest. Pop on over to this site to read : https://fquest.in/issue-3/?fbclid=IwAR2AT4kSAWkjET838lP82ZqQUec2sK0tjGqwZ_GSKsRNR-v4TOtACxQs4Og You guys, 2019 is looking pretty good, right now! Thank you all, once again, because I’m nothing without my friends, family and readers. ❤️❤️❤️

It’s that time of the month again :)

What do mothers want?

The evolution of tiredness. Ah, they'll sleep like logs tonight. 😍😍 JUST KIDDING!! THESE TWO GIRLS DO NOT HAVE AN OFF SWITCH! Send prayers 😅😅

It’s happening, it’s happening!! A drabble (100 word story) I wrote got accepted by a British Anthology Publication!!!! This is huge, as you can guess from all the exclamation points. I’m beyond thrilled and grateful that a piece of fiction (which came from the darkest corners of my mind) has been considered worthy of putting in an actual book. Your girl is a bona fide author people! This is happening! Wheeeeee!! https://www.blackharepress.com

A childhood friend of mine is expecting her first baby in Feb 2020. She’s been following me for a while on my website and Facebook, and she thinks I know something about parenting. So she called me this past weekend to get the inside scoop.

I spent an hour yesterday at the Spa/Salon. When I get home, this conversation happens with my husband. Raghav: Babe, you look nice! Me: Aww, thanks! That was so relaxing. Raghav: Wow, your hair!! Cannot beat that Salon blowout, huh?! Me:  Well...

9 today. The baby fat, almost gone. Taller, leaner and looks like the young man he’s becoming.  9 today. He still gives me mushy kisses. He still lets me snuggle up. And, oh my heart! 9 today. Wakes up with a smile and asks about his present. Negotiates like a pro, in his squeaky, squeaky voice. 9 today. He works hard every minute. Plays harder. Stands up for himself even when he wants to run away. 9 today. Silly games with his sister. Fights, races, cuddles and endless giggling. Oh, the giggling. 9 today. He flies in the wind, exploring, learning. Happiest in his own head and content in ways I can never be. 9 today. He does not know of hatred and discrimination. I pray he never has to learn. 9 today. Challenges and victories, milestones he’s carved for himself. Every moment just as it should be. 9 today. 9 perfect years of hanging out with my best friend. Happy birthday, my little boy! How did we get so lucky?

I am a liar. A big, fat liar.  I often smile and nod when someone asks me if I’m ok. I talk about self acceptance while shopping for anti aging serums. I am awkward around compliments, because I worry I’m not worthy of them. I hold in my tummy, every time I pose for a picture. I pretend to be brave every morning I wake up. Sometimes I even fool myself. I laugh at all my husband’s jokes,  while secretly thinking about how to improve them.  I am happiest in my own head, because I fear rejection. I believe in others sometimes, more than I believe in myself.  Oh, I cooked it from “scratch”. At least that’s what I say at big family dinners. I love social media. I hate social media. I’m terrified by social media. “Love you best, kiddo,”, I promise, and then go hug the “current” favorite child.  I promise to meet for coffee, then sometimes cancel last minute. Thank you, Social Anxiety. I cheat on diets then “forget” to check my wei

This month is a big deal in my house. Nirav turns 9, Reya hits 5 and tomorrow, on the 5th, I turn….well, older. My dad and mother-in-law have birthdays coming up too, and I also celebrate 14 years of being married on the 31st. So August means presents galore and exhausted UPS drivers, dropping off their millionth package at my doorstep, while the kids squeal, “Is that box for me? Amma, is that for me?” Reya, as expected, is loudly excited about her special day and wants all the sweets! Hey, turning 5 is not for the fainthearted. And much to our absolute delight, Nirav has been expressing an interest in having a birthday celebration, too with friends. For those of you, who know him, this is huge. But he's insisted on NO cake! (thank you, Autism + Anxiety. No, but seriously, thank you! Some of those baked monstrosities have evil amounts of sugar).  So we’re likely looking at a combination party event with plenty of cake + Pizza. And lots of poorly designed Mario decorat

I often find myself harried or dealing with chaos. I usually have a decent handle on life, but over the years I’ve learned to stop and smell the roses. No literally. SMELL the roses. Being a very sensory person, sights, sounds, tastes dictate a lot of my choices. But at the top of my Sensory Pyramid is Smell. I am very influenced by fragrances and odors . And while it can sometimes be a challenge (think crowded room and random stranger’s body odor), it’s mostly a very helpful tool. After much introspection, I realized the power that a good aroma has over me, and decided to use it to my advantage. So here’s my little collection of pick-me-up smells : Tantalizing perfumes, Special lotions and Aromatic oils. And quite a few simple soap bars brought from the neighborhood grocery store. It’s not how much they cost, but how they make me feel. Now, I don’t know much about aromatherapy, but I certainly know it helps me focus and look forward to my day. I rotate scents for different parts of

My birthday is coming up in a week. I’ll be a year older, a year wiser(or so my husband,Raghav hopes) So this year, I’m doing something different for my birthday. Now we’ve had a rather bouncy year. 2 surgeries(Nirav and me), amazing events (new house/new pet/new job) along with all the other little bumps and bruises that make our lives more interesting. There’s been lots of laughter and major fun. Many beach trips and fingers sticky from too much ice cream. Sun-kissed perfection and memories to be thankful for. We’ve had plenty of euphoric moments where I look around and think I’m just winning at this whole motherhood business. And then something happens. Someone has an hour long tantrum or I step over the hundredth toy left on the floor. Self doubt creeps in. Drop by drop, thought by thought, like a little leak on the ceiling. Before soon, I’m wrecked with guilt and fear that I’m not raising my children well. There’ve been mornings when I haven’t wanted to get up and nights when s

We know about autism. We know about Anxiety. But sometimes, it’s more than that.

I will be live again tomorrow on the Momspresso Facebook page, reading another award-winning short story. I hope you’ll join me! For those of you in the US, I’ll be saving the video so you can watch it the next morning with your cup of coffee. Here’s the link: https://m.facebook.com/Momspresso/ Indian Time - Friday, July 26 @ 11.30 AM. US times : Thursday, July 25 @ 11.00 PM (Pacific) Thursday, July 25 @ 1.00 AM (Central) and 2.00 AM (Eastern). And again, thank you all for your love and support. I couldn’t do this without you

The sepia sunlight of a summer evening. Birds twittering, squirrels scampering. Acres of green grass, broken by a dozen giggly faces. One more whoosh down the slide. One last round on the seesaw before dinner and a bath. There are no perfect moments. Except for these.

This human completely approves of her Therapuppy©️ (therapy + Puppy). Whether it’s battling big feelings, anxiety or whatever’s floating in my soup for the day, Minnie always, always knows how to bring me down. A flash of her pink tongue, a kiss, the occasional belly rub. I breathe in her fuzzy head, and the world seems brighter. She’s feisty and bossy and sheds like a champion. But by God, she’s the best thing that's happened to me all year!

I must have been 7 and in second grade. I was in a different classroom than all my usual friends and at that age; you feel the separation at a much deeper level. But after a few weeks, I was ok and thriving because of Ms. Reena, our class teacher. Now Ms. Reena was new to our school (and teaching, I suspected). She was young, very slender and had a pretty nose, very much like my mom’s. I secretly fantasized that she was my “School mother” and delighted in being a total teacher’s pet. I would help her with arranging the chalk and watering the half-dead plant in the classroom. On one occasion, I even packed an extra “Gems” pack for her, because I thought she might like the sweetness after her daily lunch of Upma. I adored her with that childish passion unique to 7-year-olds, and looked forward to Monday mornings when she’d walk into the classroom with those slender payals, trailing a scent of sandalwood behind her. Now I may have been a teacher’s pet, but I was also a decent kid. Unt

Growing up in middle class India, in the 80s and 90s, makeup was not a huge deal. The only time I had on anything close to a beauty product, was on the School Annual Day Stage Performance. And even then, it was a hastily applied layer of garish cream which made all of us look uniformly ghostly. Real foundations and bold lipsticks were for Kitty parties and Movie Stars. Or maybe when you had to attend Payal Didi’s wedding in South Bombay. Otherwise it was talcum powder + Kajal + chapstick, and you were ready to take on the day in your Bata chappals. Even today, I don’t have too many skills in the beauty department. Lipstick, eyebrow pencil, eyeliner and BB cream. That’s my entire repertoire. Sometimes I will feel extra fancy and bring out the mascara. And then there're those days where I cannot step outside without concealer because, hello racoon eyes! And yet, every time I start my barebones beauty routine, this little voice inside squeaks, “Why do you need all t

We had an interesting look into human nature, last month. My son, Nirav had gone up to San Francisco with his dad, so Reya and I hit all the local fun spots. Library, Food truck, Ice cream, Park. It was close to 5 pm when we get to the playground. There are 3 swings. A baby coos at us from the bucket swings, and smiling delightedly, Reya hops on the vacant one. Next to us, on the last swing sits an older boy. Well, young man really. Probably in his early twenties, with a handsome face and the greenest eyes I’ve seen. He’s humming to himself and doesn’t respond when Reya squeaks hello in his direction. On deeper inspection, I realized that he is chanting softly. “Hmmm and that is 29,” “Hmmm and that is 30,” “Hmmm and that is 31,” He goes on and on. Odd? Well, depends on your definition of the word. I had spent half the day, talking in a Cartoon voice to Reya, so we’re no more or less weird than this angelic-looking dude.  After a while, Reya starts chanting