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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I still remember to this day that when I was asked to write an essay on a person I admired the most as the final task to conclude the semester in my 8th grade, I wrote about Aaliyan.

He was one of my classmates, and even my class teacher was surprised that while everyone wrote about either their parents, siblings or some celebrity, I chose a classmate. But to this day, if I were asked about an inspiring personality in my life at that age, it would still be him.

Aaliyan was a popular person not only in our class, but throughout the school. He was talented and participated in, and won, almost every competition, be it sports or academics. What added more to his personality was his friendly and funny nature. Some friends would even call him the class joker because often, when the teacher came to class late, he would stand in front of us and entertain us a riddle or joke.

No one could beat him in his sense of humour, and this is why he was the favourite of almost every student in school. But what made me admire him was not just this, but much more.

I remember it was right before the mid-term exams when the school announced the annual field trip to the zoo. Everyone was excited about it. Every year, the school took us to the National Museum, as it was free. However, this year, the students asked the management to take them to the zoo, with everyone paying for the ticket.

The trip was announced a week in advance and, as always, every group was buzzing with discussions about it — what to bring, what to eat, what to do and, most importantly, what to wear. Someone asked Aaliyan what he would wear and he replied that he wasn’t going on the trip. Everyone was surprised because they had assumed he would go, just like in previous years.

The reason he gave was that he needed to study for the upcoming exams. Everyone tried to convince him, but he stayed adamant about his decision, and eventually the students quietened down since they were out of ways to persuade him. The next day, the students requested the teacher to convince Aaliyan to go on the trip, as everyone knew it would not be as fun without him. Sadly, none of the teachers could convince him. The matter was then taken to the headmistress, since everyone, including the teachers and the head, wanted him to come.

When the headmistress asked Aaliyan to take the trip, he felt bad declining her and finally agreed. This sent a new wave of excitement among the students, and preparations started twofold. Eventually, the day of the trip arrived. Everyone gathered outside the school at 9 am sharp. Three big vans were arranged to take us to the zoo.

That day, I got a little late, and just as I got out of my car, I saw Aaliyan standing to the side, talking on his phone in a worried manner, while everyone else was getting on the buses. Instead of walking towards the buses, I went towards him, as I felt something was not right. When I asked him, he told me that his grandmother was not feeling well and that he had to go back home. He rushed to our class teacher and informed her. Everyone was reluctant to let him go, but since it was a serious reason, they had no option but to allow it.

As he started walking away, I asked him how he would go home, and he told me that he would take the bus. Since I knew the buses did not have a fixed schedule and he might have to wait for an hour, I offered to drop him off. My car was still there, as my father was waiting for me to get on the bus before leaving. Initially, he refused because he did not want me to miss the trip, but I kept insisting, as I sensed something serious at his place. When he saw that I was adamant, he reluctantly agreed and got into the car.

What I saw next was what truly made me admire him. When I asked for the address, he mentioned an area known for informal housing. When we stopped outside his house, he asked me to come inside out of hospitality. I initially thought of declining, but out of curiosity, I agreed.

Inside, I learned that he lived alone with his grandmother, as his parents had passed away when he was six. He worked hard in the evenings to put food on the table for both of them and to afford his grandmother’s medicines. In the mornings, he attended school while a neighbour looked after his grandmother.

That woman had called him because his grandmother had a high fever that day. I learned all this from his grandmother while he saw off the doctor who had been called for her.

As I came to know all this, I began respecting him even more than before. It was that day that I truly started admiring him. He lived such a hard life, yet still managed to put a smile on the faces of those around him.

He worked hard, never asked for a handout from anyone and, most importantly, never used his poverty as a crutch. He had declined the trip because he did not want to spend money on something like this, even though his grandmother wanted him to live like a normal boy for a day.

When I returned home that day, my perspective on life changed. I realised that not everyone was as privileged as we often assume. I spoke to my father and requested him to consider Aaliyan for a job at his company. Aaliyan declined when I discussed it with him, but I made him comfortable by agreeing that he would appear for an interview like all other candidates, and only if the recruiter deemed him capable enough would he be hired.

Since he was a very intelligent student, he got the job, and now, years later, he still works there, as the most experienced financial consultant in my father’s firm.

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

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