DEVIANT DEFINITIONS : New words for the Dictionary



Fashion + Pain = Fashain

When fashion becomes painful. Yes high heels, we’re looking at you. You look sexy but hurt so bad. And you, luxury handbag. You burn a hole in our pocket, it is very difficult to shell out all that cash. Anything and everything we do in the name of fashion that causes us pain. We might do it to fit in, follow trends or because we’re conditioned to believe that if we don’t do these things we won’t be loved or considered beautiful and popular. That there’s something wrong with us that needs to be fixed.



Aunty + Interfere = Aunterfere

When a “well-meaning” aunty – a neighbour or a distant relative maybe, pokes her nose in our business. She wants to know what we are doing, who we’re hanging out with, when we’re getting married, when we’ll have children, why we came home later than usual yesterday, who’s texting us right now and how much money we are making. She might be a busybody, may have run out of fresh gossip and wants to replenish her stock or have too much time on her hands ; hence the interest in our private life. She believes it is perfectly justified to question our personal decisions and even try to influence them.



Amused + Confused = Amfused

When we can’t describe what we’re feeling. Its a mixture of amusement and confusion. Anything can evoke this feeling – a new dress, something our friend mentioned, an age old custom some people follow, architectural design or even food at a restaurant.



Fearful + Excited = Feaxcited

When we feel scared but also excited. The first day of school, moving to a new city, going on a blind date, getting married, leaving your childhood home for one of your own or quitting your current job to follow your passion. The unknown variables make us nervous but the possibilities and opportunities that promise us a different but better tomorrow have us skipping with joy.


The scene is of a dining room. The hostess has painstakingly prepared an experimental dish which she serves to her guests. The guests comprise of a lady and her children. The guests eagerly taste her creation.

Hostess : “So, what do you think ?”

Lady : “Umm..It’s not quite working for me actually.”

The children look on wide-eyed at their dialogue and say nothing.

Later that day, on returning home.

Child 1 : “Why did you tell her that you didn’t like her dish straight to her face?”

Lady : “Because that’s how I really felt about it.”

Child 1 : “Wasn’t that impolite ? You probably hurt her feelings.”

Child 2 : “Wouldn’t it have been better if you’d appreciated the dish and her efforts even if that meant lying ?”

This scene brings certain questions to the fore.

Was the Lady really wrong in expressing her frank opinion ? Is it alright to lie just to spare someone’s feelings ? Would the Hostess be better off with false praise ? Will honest criticism help her refine the dish or dampen her confidence in the long run ?

I’m the kind of person who is brutally honest about my feelings and opinions. I strive to sincerely express what I think about others and I actually like it this way. But every now and then I’m chided by for being too blunt. The following conversation is one I’ve had numerous times.

“You shouldn’t have said that”

Me : “Why ?”

“You just shouldn’t have !”

The general complaint for my affliction of truthfulness is that it upsets people and often comes across as rude. But wouldn’t they like to know what I really think ? Wouldn’t they benefit from constructive criticism? Wouldn’t they like to know where they’re going wrong ? Has being fake become the way of life now, the acceptable thing to do?

honesty 2
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I have seen people who candidly confess their feelings (both positive and negative) regarding a certain someone to EVERYONE ELSE except the person concerned. Sometimes they behave in a completely different way in front of them and flip one-eighty when they’re not around. Shouldn’t these feelings be discussed with the person concerned ? Won’t being deceitful will hamper relationships in the long run ?

What if I was the person concerned and people talked about me behind my back ?

I would like to know how a person really feels about me. I personally, would like everybody to tell me the ugly truth rather than raise my expectations by innovating pretty lies. It’s better in the long run. I wouldn’t want to live a life that was an illusion, confined in a little bubble of lies. I want to be at peace with the supreme reality. It’s funny how everyone wants to know the truth, but nobody’s willing to say it.

Whenever I’ve lied in the past, it’s been like a burden placed upon my head. Being transparent gives me satisfaction as I’m not deceiving anyone, not even myself. But, the downside to being transparent though, is that sometimes you’re too straightforward with people in the first meeting itself, raised eyebrows and shocked expressions are guaranteed. Having said that, I would like to add – being frank does not imply giving a free reign to malice and constructing words for the sole purpose of wounding someone’s feelings.

We’ve always heard how “Honesty is the best policy” during our formative years. Kids are extremely open about their opinions. They say that : When a man says something cruel to you he’s being mean. When a woman says something negative about you she’s just jealous BUT when a kid says something, it’s most definitely true.

So why not make it a Moral Code- To say what is true !

Agree or Disagree (Its completely your call) ? Be honest and tell me what you think ! 😉



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Pitter Patter. Pitter Patter

The rain kept pouring down, people kept walking by. Nobody saw me. How could they ? I was lying in the dark corner of the busy alleyway covered in mud, I was ignored and stepped on.

I was waiting. Waiting for someone. Anyone.

Time seemed to crawl and I had begun to lose all hope when a voice startled me out of my depressing thoughts.

“Ooooh shiny ! Look mum” said a young boy dressed in old, tattered clothes. The woman beside him wore a weary expression on her face. She reached out her hand and picked me up. She carefully wiped off the mud using the edge of her frayed shirt and handed me to her son. “It’s a penny darling. You’re lucky to have found one. Use it wisely.” The boy broke into a huge grin. He looked at me as if I was the best thing to ever happen to him, his eyes sparkled as he looked on for what seemed like an eternity. Under his loving gaze, my earlier gloominess vanished and I felt valuable again. He placed me in his shirt pocket with extreme care. It was dark in there but warm nonetheless. It was a welcome relief after the day in the cold rain.

I could hear muted sounds of vehicles, the rain and people bustling by from inside his pocket. He kept patting the pocket from time to time to make sure I was safe. Not long after I found myself drifting off to sleep.

He took me everywhere. To school. To his mum’s workplace. To the park.

He would hold me in his palm while lying in bed after dinner and talk to me about the books he loved to read at school, his mum who was his only family, his poverty, his fears and his ambitions. Then he’d place me under his pillow and doze off. I revelled in the feeling that I was his most prized possession.

“Happy Birthday darling. Let’s skip school today. We’ll celebrate.” said his mother fondly one pleasant morning. He agreed nodding his head enthusiastically. We went to the beach and spent the whole day having fun. When we reached a candy cart, his mum asked him “Would you like to buy candy with your penny ? A special birthday treat.” He pulled me out of his pocket and looked at me in doubt. In his eyes I saw dilemma, to choose between the scrumptious special candy and me wasn’t easy for him. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he handed me over to his mum. His decision was made and my heart felt like it’d been smashed into a hundred pieces. But watching him devour his candy made my broken heart flutter again, it was me who gave him such joy I thought. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make. I decided to be hopeful for what was in store for me next as the Candy Seller placed me in a pouch jingling with other coins.

Pennies. Pounds. Playing, chattering and dancing away.

They welcomed me affectionately and instantly I felt at ease. Many happy and carefree days I spent with my friends, I had almost forgotten about the young boy. Then the fateful day arrived when the Candy seller decided to give me away.

“Daddy, can I have another one please ?” The little boy beseeched his father. “No ! One is quite enough. Money doesn’t grow on trees you know.” retorted the plump man as he put me in his wallet. Together we walked towards my new home. I was curious to know what it was like but I couldn’t. I was confined in a leather wallet. Later that night, the plump man removed me from his wallet and looked at me with his beady eyes. Was he going to give me to his son ? I hoped he would, maybe I could make a new start.

What he did next, took me by surprise. He took out a small iron box and locked me inside. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I noticed others. A few currency bills and some pennies just like me. They all had a haggard look about them. Hesitantly I introduced myself but all they did was look at me with pity.

“You are imprisoned here forever.” they whispered ominously. “He’s a miser.” Their voices echoed in the small place.

Days, months and years passed by. The miser would occasionally open the box, sometimes to take out a few bills, other times to put some pennies in. That was the only time light entered in. A blinding light filled with dreams of the outside world. Whoever was taken out breathed a sigh of relief, everyone else was waiting for a miracle, a chance to escape this dismal fate. There was nothing to do inside the ferrous prison but resign oneself to destiny.

“What’s in this box ?” said a sweet female voice. I woke up from all the commotion outside and was immediately greeted by light. My eyes shut close due to the discomfort. After a moment I opened them to find a couple peering into the prison. “My old man locked away money in various places. This is probably one of them. He never let us spend any nor told anyone where he kept it.” said the man. I couldn’t be sure as I had seen him only once a long time ago, but I think it was the miser’s son. All grown up and married.

“The bills we can still use but that penny is junk.” the female said pointing to me. I belatedly realised that I was the only coin left in the prison, all the others had gone. “We can give the penny to Anna” the man offered but the female scoffed at him and said “What good is a mere penny these days. Anna wouldn’t even be able to buy a piece of candy with it. Let’s take out the bills and keep the box with the rest of your father’s junk in the attic.” I looked at them in alarm. Don’t leave me here all alone, I screamed. Don’t lock me up again !

My cries fell on deaf ears. My sobs went unheard. My whole body shivered and then I heard it.

The lock of my prison. My purgatory.

Click Clack Click.


I can’t believe I’m writing this;

Thought this day would never come.

After all these years of sisterly bliss,

This is the rhyme that I now hum.


Didn’t you realise how special you were to me;

How much I did to make this work?

Your hurtful words pained me, couldn’t you see?

During our last parley where you acted like a jerk !


We were almost inseparable, you and I

Shared secrets, gossip, shopping and all the fun;

I never wanted it to end, but all I can say now is goodbye.

People are calling this a fight, but neither side has won.


We’ll never meet again, because that’s how you want things to be,

Time will heal me surely, a little bit everyday.

Now, I’ll shift my focus to the people who really value me

No hard feelings, I’ll simply walk away.

no friend
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