Witty Bean

So my 4-year-old, Reya has been showing a lot of interest in the local currency. Denominations, using coins instead of   notes, basic addition and subtraction, helping with paying at the store- she’s been really enjoying the concept of Money. We also use a reward system, wherein she can earn tokens for completing her chores or helping around the house. This is her “allowance” to access new books/fun activities at the end of the month. I’ve found it to to be a simple system, because she understands that everything has value and so she looks forward to earning fun stuff with no pressure.   Still with me? Ok. Now being the planner I am, I thought our natural, next step was a piggy bank. Hey, she likes money and this would be an interesting way for her to understand the basics of earning, saving and spending. I rushed to Amazon, found a kid friendly piggy Bank/money safe and ordered it, hoping to raise the next Narayana Murthy - a responsible, mindful spender. Prime 2-day D

As the needle hit my skin, I had an unpleasant thought. Does it really matter? Whether you live or die? People move on, don’t they? Sure, they’ll cry and mourn you. Some will even change their profile pictures for a few days.  “We miss you!”  “You were taken too soon!” “What a tragic end to such a beautiful soul!” A blur of green around me, as I rested my head on the bed. I could sense my toes flexing. before they suddenly went limp. A gentle woodenness crept up my body, pleasant and heavy.  (Dr.Raman, are you doing fine?) I tried to move my limbs, or perhaps I dreamed I did. Someone put a cold palm on my brow.  I drooled a little, then tried to sit up, but the cold palm patted my forehead. (Good job, Dr.Raman. We’re almost there.) Suddenly memories came gushing back, faster than I could keep up. The pain, the doctor’s assurance, the need for surgery.  Oh God, I was in the Operating Suite. The sedative was already creeping into my blood.Making me remem

A weekday morning conversation between husband and me Raghav: Hey, have you seen my phone? Me: No, not really. Did you check the nightstand? Your desk? R: Not there. Me: Really? Ok,let me call you? R: It’s on silent mode. Me:  😒 😒 😒 R: You know what, try calling. Maybe it’ll vibrate and knock something over. A pause. Me: The magic in our marriage never ends, does it? R: Oh just call me, already. Five minutes of absolute silence later. R: The battery must have died. Me: How about you use the “Find my iPhone” feature? R: I already did. Last known location is our House. Me: Ok, let’s think about this. Where did you last see it? R: *Clapping slowly* If I remembered that, wouldn’t I go looking there myself? Me: Whoa, lots of sarcasm from someone who lost his workout pants last week! How does someone lose his pants?!! R: *itwasatthegymshuddup* Me: What was that? A little louder? R: Pants were at the Gym. Good thing I had an extra pair,

I often don’t realize how good I’ve got it. A darling husband, a couple of exciting jobs and two gooey, adorable kids. The grass is green, there’s a song on my lips and the first breeze of a lazy summer, tickles my freshly done hair. In the immortal words of the Poet Browning, The lark’s on the wing; The snail’s on the thorn; God’s in His heaven All’s right with the world! Now because I am not an absolute idiot, the first thing I do is whip out my Gratitude Journal. I have a nifty app on my phone, where I can record events and things I’m grateful for. Two clicks and I’m in there, making a new entry. I write about Reya cleaning up her toys, without me reminding her. A good 2 minutes go in penning down my son, Nirav’s successes with long division and anxiety. My husband gets the next notable mention since he got me takeout food twice this week; and also bonus points because he’s cute. I ramble happily about our puppy and the new Coffee shop down the street; the color of my nail