It all started with a dictionary. Zayan hated dictionaries because they were heavy, boring and full of confusing words he’d never use. At least, that’s what he thought, until his teacher, Miss Farah, made an announcement that changed everything.
“Class,” she said, smiling like she’d just won a game of Ludo, “we’re having a ‘Word War.’”
Everyone groaned.
“It’s a competition,” she explained. “Whoever learns new words and uses them correctly in sentences by the end of the week, wins a prize.”
“What’s the prize?” Zayan asked, hoping it was something decent.
“A tablet,” she said.
You could hear the silence for two seconds, then chaos.
A tablet! Zayan had been begging his parents for one, but they kept saying things like “Focus on your studies,” and “We’ll see after exams.” Now, there was a way to get one without waiting for the next Eid, birthday or topping the exams.
Zayan told himself that he had to win. But so did everyone else, and they weren’t playing around.
That night, Zayan dusted off the old dictionary, which he’d always shoved at the bottom of the bookshelf. But now, pulling it out, he remembered his grandfather’s proud smile when he gifted it.
Zayan had never really opened it. Did he feel guilt? Maybe. Just a little.
It was huge, and the pages were yellow at the edges, curling like leaves in a forgotten book. It smelt like old wood and rainy afternoons. He opened it, flipped to a random page, and stared.
“Obfuscate,” Zayan read aloud. Seriously? He half-wondered if the dictionary was just making up words now... “What even is that?” he muttered.
He grabbed his notebook and started writing: ‘Obfuscate: to make something unclear or confusing.’
He didn’t really understand it, but it sounded cool. He imagined telling his younger brother, Dani, “Stop obfuscating things!”
Dani would be so confused; he might actually stop asking questions for once, Zayan giggled in his mind.
The next day at school, Zayan was ready. But so was everyone else.
“I found ‘flabbergasted’,” said Hiba, showing off her list. “It means shocked.”
“Check out mine,” bragged Fahad. “‘Quagmire’. Means a complicated situation.”
Zayan frowned. He needed better words. Cooler ones. He pulled out his dictionary during lunch and kept going through it.
By Wednesday, kids weren’t playing cricket or chatting during breaks. They were sitting in groups, sharing words like ‘eloquent,’ ‘mellifluous,’ and ‘cacophony’. Some were using them in sentences that made no sense.
“This biryani is exquisite,” Hamza said in the canteen, holding up a spoon like he was on a cooking show.
“I’m feeling melancholic,” Ayesha sighed, staring at her empty plate.
“You’re just hungry,” said Zara while laughing.
Zayan was falling behind. His notebook was full, but he kept mixing up words. Yesterday, he told his mother the dal was ‘mediocre,’ thinking it meant delicious. But of course it didn’t go well. He needed a better strategy.
On Thursday, he had an idea. He went to his grandfather, who was sitting in the balcony, reading the newspaper with his glasses sliding down his nose.
“Dada jan,” Zayan said, “how do you learn new words? Please help me out.”
Dada jan smiled. “You don’t just learn them, beta. You use them.”
He pointed at his cup of chai. “This tea is lukewarm, meaning not too hot, not too cold.”
Zayan nodded. Then Dada jan said, “And when your Dadi talks nonstop about her dramas, that’s verbose.”
Zayan laughed. “Ha ha, that makes sense.”
So, they spent the afternoon talking. Dada jan told him stories using tricky words, and then made Zayan tell his own stories back.
By Friday morning, Zayan felt ready. He walked into class with confidence.
Miss Farah clapped her hands. “Final round! Everyone will get a chance to use their best word in a sentence.”
Hiba stood first. “I was flabbergasted when I saw my test marks.”
Everyone giggled. Fahad said, “Yesterday, I was stuck in a quagmire because I spilt water on my homework.”
Ayesha went next. “My cat’s purring is so mellifluous.”
Then it was Zayan’s turn. He stood up, cleared his throat, and said,
“Sometimes, my little brother tries to obfuscate the truth when he’s hiding the TV remote.”
The class burst out laughing. Even Miss Farah smiled. “Excellent use of ‘obfuscate,’ Zayan!”
By the end of the day, Miss Farah tallied the scores through all rounds.
“The winner of our ‘Word War’ is...” She paused for dramatic effect. “Zayan!”
He couldn’t believe it. He won. He got the tablet, but more importantly, he finally understood why his Dada jan loved words so much.
On the way home, Zayan flipped through his notebook. He saw words he barely understood a week ago and realised he could now use them easily.
Dada jan was waiting on the balcony. Zayan held up the tablet. “Victory is mine!”
Dada jan laughed as he said, “So, what did you learn?”
Zayan grinned. “I learnt that learning words isn’t tedious. It’s gratifying.” And for once, he wasn’t just showing off.
Published in Dawn, Young World, June 28th, 2025
