Blog

Writer: Zenat

The city lay still under the soft glow of the moon. The power had been out for hours, and silence filled the empty streets. It was a white night— one of those rare nights when darkness could not fully take over, when light refused to disappear. Zainab and I sat in the yard, wrapped in our shawls, staring at the sky. The cold air touched our faces, but we did not move. The stars above twinkled like tiny hopes in the vast darkness. There was a time when our nights were filled with stories about the future. We had spent our whole childhood walking side by side, following the same path. Every morning, we hurried to school together, our books pressed against our chests, our laughter filling the streets. We had big dreams—to graduate together, to hold our diplomas in our hands, and to step into the future as strong, educated women. We promised each other that no matter what happened, we would never stop learning. However, life had other plans. One morning, everything changed. The school we have loved, the place where we had built our dreams, has taken away from us. The doors were shut, not just on the building, but also on our futures. Suddenly, the streets we had walked with confidence felt unfamiliar. The world that once welcomed us now seemed to whisper, You do not belong here anymore. For months, we sat at home, trapped between four walls. The books on our shelves gathered dust, and the notebooks we once filled with lessons remained untouched. We felt like birds in a cage—able to see the sky, but never able to fly. One evening, as we sat in the same yard, lost in our thoughts, Zainab whispered, “Do you think this is how our story ends?” I shook my head. “No,” I said firmly. “When a door is closed for us, Allah will open a greater door.”

It was a few weeks later that we were able to continue our conversation in the same spot. “Look, our prayer was answered. We found this school—an online school, better than the one we had before. A place where we could learn again, where our voices mattered, where our dreams still had a chance. It was not just a school; it seemed like a light in our darkness, a door that led us back to hope. “Maybe this is our white night,” I whispered, looking at the glowing sky. Zainab smiled softly. “Maybe. Maybe this is the night before a new morning.” The wind blew gently, carrying away the heaviness in our hearts. The world was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, we knew one thing for sure—our journey was not over. The future was still ours to chase.

Writer: Zuhra

The book Ancient Futures by Helena Norberg-Hodge changed the way I think about progress and happiness. It tells the story of Ladakh, a place in the Himalayas where people once lived simply and happily. They valued their relationships, their traditions, and their connection to nature. But when modernization arrived, things began to change. People who once felt rich in culture and community started to feel poor. But were they really poor, or did they just start seeing themselves differently?

This book made me question what really makes life good. We are often told that success means having more, more money, more things, more achievements. But Ladakh before modernization shows a different way. People had fewer things, but they had more time, more purpose, and stronger relationships. It made me wonder: are we actually losing something important in modern life? If we are always chasing more, are we missing the simple joys that make life meaningful?

One of the biggest lessons from this book is that true wealth is not about money. It is about feeling connected–to other people, to nature, and to something meaningful. In Ladakh, people worked together, helped each other, and shared what they had. They did not compete or feel the need to prove themselves. Their worth was not measured by their income but by their kindness and their role in the community. But when modernization came, they were told they had to change, move to cities, and measure success in money. This made them feel insecure and uncertain about their way of life.

This book does not just talk about Ladakhi, it makes us think about our own lives. It asks us to question what we believe. Do money and technology really make us happier? Or are they making us more stressed and disconnected? We are taught to value growth, efficiency, and competition, but are those things making our lives better? Or are they pushing us toward a life where we are always busy, always worried, and always feeling like we are not enough?

At the same time, modernization has brought many good things. It has given people medicine, education, and new opportunities. It has helped people escape poverty and improve their standard of living. But the problem is when we accept everything new without thinking. We should not reject modern life, but we also should not forget the wisdom of traditional ways. The best life is one that takes good things from both worlds and finds balance. If we only focus on modern progress, we risk losing our sense of connection, peace, and meaning. But if we reject all modern advancements, we might miss out on opportunities that could improve our lives. The key is to be aware, to choose wisely, and to create a way of living that makes sense for us.

This book also made me reflect on my own life. I used to think I had to follow a certain path—get good grades, go to a famous university, get a high-paying job. But Ancient Futures made me stop and ask, “Is this really what I want? Or is this just what society tells me to want?” Realizing this was both exciting and scary. It means I can choose my own path, but it also means I have to take responsibility for my choices. It made me think about what success really means to me. Is it just about a good career, or is it about living a life that feels true to who I am?

Another important idea in this book is how much our surroundings affect us. We often think people are naturally selfish or competitive, but Ladakh proves that is not true. Before modernization, people there were peaceful, confident, and content. After being introduced to Western ideas, they became more anxious and insecure. This made me think about my own environment. Who am I becoming because of where I live and who I spend time with? Am I surrounding myself with people and ideas that make me a better person? Or am I being influenced by stress, pressure, and expectations that do not actually make me happy?

I also started thinking about time. In Ladakh, people worked hard, but they never rushed. They had time to sit together, talk, and enjoy life. But in modern society, everyone is always in a hurry. We feel guilty if we are not “productive.” But what are we really producing? Stress? Tiredness? A life where we are always looking ahead but never truly present? This book made me see that time is one of the most valuable things we have, and we should be careful about how we use it. Are we spending our time in a way that makes us happy, or are we just trying to keep up with the world around us?

This book makes me want to live more mindfully. If I want a meaningful life, I need to be careful about what I focus on. Who do I spend time with? What do I read and watch? What kind of future am I creating for myself? If I surround myself with people who value simple joys, deep conversations, and real human connection, I will naturally move in that direction. If I fill my life with stress, distractions, and meaningless competition, I will lose sight of what really matters. We may not be able to change everything about the modern world, but we can change the way we live in it.

The most important lesson from Ancient Futures is that we always have a choice. We do not have to follow the path given to us. We can stop, think, and decide what is truly important. We do not have to reject modern life, but we also should not forget the lessons of tradition. Modernization gives us knowledge and opportunities, but tradition gives us connection, peace, and purpose. The best life is one that takes the best from both and finds balance.

This book also taught me that change does not have to be big to be meaningful. Small choices—choosing to spend time with loved ones, choosing to slow down, choosing to question what success really means, can make a difference in how we feel about our lives. Happiness is not something we achieve at the end of a long journey. It is something we create in the way we live every day.

This book does not give all the answers, but it makes us ask the right questions. And for me, that is enough to start making real changes both in how I think and how I live. The world will always keep moving forward, but it is up to us to decide how we want to move with it.