We are scrolling ourselves into intellectual silence, and it’s time to turn the page.

I can’t remember the last time I saw someone browse through a bookstore just for fun. That quiet ritual of running your fingers along the shelves, flipping through pages and discovering a story you never knew you needed, feels almost nostalgic now. We scroll instead of strolling. We swipe through reels, memes and captions faster than we ever turned a page. The joy of reading, once a deeply personal act, is fading behind the blue glow of our screens.

It’s not that we’ve stopped reading altogether. If anything, we read constantly — captions, tweets and comment sections — but what we’re consuming has lost its depth and length. Our attention spans have been sliced thin by algorithms that reward speed over thought. We are reading more words than ever, yet understanding fewer of them.

A recent report found that the average teenager spends nearly eight hours a day on screens, not counting schoolwork. In Pakistan, where digital access is expanding rapidly, this habit is only rising. But amid all that scrolling, how much of what we “read” actually stays with us? When was the last time we finished a book cover to cover without checking our phones every few minutes?

Screens have made reading faster, shorter and shallower. What they’ve taken away is the depth of learning that books once gave us

Book culture is disappearing. Bookstores were once sanctuaries, quiet spaces where ideas lived. Now, they’re becoming rare sightings. In Karachi, a city of more than 20 million, you can count the surviving bookstores on one hand: Liberty Books, Paramount, maybe one or two tucked away in Saddar. Lahore and Islamabad have Readings and Books n Beans, but even those rely on a small circle of loyal visitors and, dare I say, privileged ones too.

For most young people, books have become luxuries. They are expensive, hard to find and less entertaining than a screen. Libraries tell a similar story. Walk into any school or university library today and you’ll find students scrolling under the table rather than flipping through reference books. The smell of paper isn’t there anymore.

But the real loss isn’t just the disappearance of bookstores; it’s the erosion of curiosity. Reading for pleasure is now seen as old-fashioned, something our parents did when there wasn’t “anything better to do.” Yet reading is what shapes how we think, how we empathise and how we question. Books give us context, something our social media bubbles rarely do.

Why bookstores matter

Bookstores aren’t just shops; they’re cultural breathing spaces. They hold entire worlds within them. They offer the kind of silence that allows ideas to grow.

Sadly, places where bookstores still exist often cater to the privileged few. Affordable reading spaces are rare, and public libraries remain underfunded and forgotten. It’s little wonder that Pakistan’s reading culture is slowly fading.

More often than not, we blame technology, but maybe the real issue isn’t that alone — it’s that we no longer value stillness, reflection and culture. Reading requires us to stop everything and sit with a single thought for a while. It demands focus, a quality our digital world quietly erodes.

Yet hope isn’t lost. Perhaps what Pakistan needs isn’t just more bookstores, but a shift in how we see reading itself.

Because in a world drowning in noise, the simple act of reading might just be our last refuge of depth.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 21st, 2026

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It is that time of year again when Muslims all over the world observe fasting for a month during Ramazan. But do you know that the holy month is more than just fasting?

Ladybirds’ lift-the-flap book from the First Festivals series tells you all there is to know about Ramazan, which would increase your understanding of the fasting month.

Illustrated by Junissa Hardianto, this book covers every aspect of Ramazan, from waking up at the suhoor to breaking the fast at sunset. Not only that, but it also talks about helping your neighbours, performing tarawih, and waiting for Eidul Fitr, one of the biggest festivals in Islam.

However, it’s the way this book presents these facts that makes it interesting, especially for young readers like you. The lift-the-flap feature helps you understand that Ramazan begins and ends when the moon is sighted, while the illustrations help you recognise who is in need around you.

The way Suhoor and Iftar are drawn in these pages gives you an outsider’s view, whereas the simple text is easy to understand. The gender balancing in these illustrations is good, considering most books feature boys when talking about young people, whereas here both boys and girls are treated equally. If that doesn’t look interesting to you, then maybe the enticing images of Eid would, which marks the end of the holy month.

The book not only would help you and your friends develop an interest in Ramazan, but also make you want to fast in the holy month. If your parents don’t agree, ask them for a reason and if it’s valid, you can wait another year. However, if you don’t agree with the reason and believe that you are old enough to observe a fast, then you have this book to support your claim. It would explain to them that you want to observe a fast because it will help you become a good person who helps others in need, learn patience over the 30-day period, and be part of a culture that has been impressing others for over 1500 years.

Lift the flaps to reveal the moon, look inside the mosque and open the Eid presents!

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 21st, 2026

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“Beta,” Ammi coaxed me out of my room. “Dinner is ready. Leave that phone for a while.”

“Fine,” I grumbled and got out of bed.

I had planned to go shopping with my friends. Finally, it was my first time out in a proper mall. I had been scrolling endlessly, searching for ideas about what to do and how to have a good time there (Google has very good advice sometimes). I felt a little conscious to go for a proper hangout at the age of 17, but I guess that doesn’t matter.

As I sat at the table, my dad asked, “So, are you going this weekend?”

I nodded.

“Mm, beta, you should check how your friends actually are, if they are good friends or not. You don’t know who is loyal these days….”

“Abbu, I know who is good for me. You don’t have to worry,” I said, trying to keep my irritation out of my voice. Everyone thought my friends weren’t good for me, but I knew better, didn’t I? I knew how good they were sometimes… or did I?

Ammi side-eyed Abbu, clearly saying, “We had to discuss this after dinner!”

I went to my room straight after. Nimrah had texted me: “Don’t wear anything cringe tomorrow, please!”

I stared at it, my was confused and sad. That’s what they thought of me? No, maybe they didn’t want to embarrass me; they were saving me from ridicule. I laughed a bit, trying to think they were being thoughtful. I knew I was kidding myself, but I was blinded. I wanted to be known, to be seen.

The next day, I met my friends at the mall. They were, as usual, dressed as nonchalantly as possible, but I had resisted my temptation to wear that orange kurta I love.

They looked at me approvingly, as though they had control over my choices as well. They had, to be honest.

“Where will we go?” I asked too eagerly.

“Well, just to the café, then we will go and have a bit of fun in the arcade,” Saira said, checking it off on her fingers.

“Cool!” I said.

“Don’t forget the new shop we have to go to!” Nimrah reminded us.

“Yeah, yeah, you and your shopping.” Bismah rolled her eyes.

“Remember the time when we went to the arcade last time and got glued to the same game and the manager had to pry us away?” Saira said.

I laughed loudly. They all looked at me and so did everyone else in the vicinity. I lowered my head as they looked at me with disgust. Why did I have to embarrass my friends when they are so nice to me and try to attract as little attention as possible?

We walked to the café in silence. After sitting down, I saw them taking selfies. I tried to make the same pose as them, but they told me to stay still and normal as the frame wasn’t big enough. They took four photos with me, me being in the left corner. That was enough, wasn’t it?

I forced myself to drink the bitter coffee they all ordered. I usually drink ones that are sweeter, but I didn’t want to be left out. They chatted about school and gossiped about the latest celebrities (who even cared about these people?) while I just nodded. I didn’t want to interrupt.

We headed to the arcade. The lights loomed at me, more like haunting me than making me feel hyped up like the kid who was next to me in line. They headed to the claw machine because they wanted to win a teddy bear. I stood in the corner, watching. They started playing. They tried twice, but failed. They tried for the third time, but as the claw didn’t pick up the teddy, Nimrah punched the machine. It turned off, even its happy music. Everyone stared.

An employee came over.

“Is there a problem?”

“Um, yeah, the machine turned off,” Saira said.

“Did you do anything to it?”

“Someone just punched it.”

“Who?”

They looked at each other.

“She did,” Nimrah said, pointing at me.

Silence.

“What?” I stammered. “I didn’t! You guys were playing!”

“Oh, come on, don’t lie…” Saira said, eyebrows raised, and they quickly left the spot, leaving me alone with the staff.

“Follow me,” the employee said, her eyes kind. I followed, a lump forming in my throat. I couldn’t believe that they betrayed me!

The lady took me to the “Employees Only” room.

“Now, tell me, were they your friends?”

I nodded.

“I know you didn’t do it. You were standing far apart from the group. Be careful who you choose to be your friends. I don’t want to say anything else,” she gently said to me.

I nodded, with an embarrassed expression.

“That’s all, you’re free to go,” she smiled, her face radiating a warmth that made my heart relax.

“Thank you,” I said.

I quickly left the mall without event bothering to see where my friends were and hurried home. I wanted my bed and peace.

I closed the front door with a soft click and tiptoed to my room.

“Beta, everything all right?” Ammi asked from the kitchen.

“Yep, everything’s good,” I said. I didn’t want to discuss it right now.

At night, I told everything to my mother — how I tried to blend in and how they blamed me. My mother comforted me.

Sometimes, you don’t need fables or big speeches to realise who is who. You just need the right perspective. Don’t blame the people who made your life miserable. Kind people make your life better, but bad people prepare you for times ahead. It’s far more embarrassing to turn up for people who won’t turn up for you.

Some people are the rewards of a claw machine, but some are just the claws themselves.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 21st, 2026

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