A Flashback
Buckle up, fellow dreamers, as we embark on a journey into the glistening depths of memory. A gentle reminder: you may feel a longing – even an ache – for what lies ahead.
Do you remember a time when wonder was your constant best friend, and the world throbbed with an indisputable, everyday magic, far removed from this melancholy grey hum?
The world is still half-asleep at five in the morning. The serene silence of dawn envelops you like a blanket as you rise for Fajr, the morning prayer. You are drawn to the table by your mother’s warm, buttery scent as she flips parathas on the tawa. You stare at the screen as Courage the Cowardly Dog flashes on Cartoon Network.
When your dadi gives you a bag of heart-shaped cookies with jam in the centre, you feel as though those tiny, sweet hearts are larger than you are.
It feels like life has gifted you a secret holiday when you get ready for school and discover that it has been abruptly closed. With laughter resonating through the air, you change out of your uniform and dash outdoors to play hide-and-seek with your cousins.
Back to the Present
Stacks of cartoon CDs, beloved sets of coloured markers, and toy flip phones were more than just items; they were gateways to an apparently limitless universe.
In those days, the biggest concern was spelling white as vite in your notebook, and life was gentler overall.
We were the last generation to experience childhood without screens, algorithms, or artificial intelligence – a brief window when happiness flowed naturally and time passed slowly.
Nostalgia
Life flowed easily back then, as if we were truly living in the present. We sat cross-legged through endless school assemblies, half-listening as the principal extended her speech well beyond the bell. The grass beneath us was bright green, lush, and dewy, its blades crackling softly between our fingers.
You would look up and silently wonder what the small blue halos in the sky were.
A whole world would be revealed just in front of you if you squatted down, picked up a little stone, and found clusters of ant eggs. Climbing trees to rescue a stranded kite left your knees scraped. The cost of running barefoot in the garden on foggy mornings was sneaking back inside, hoping no one saw the muddy footprints on the floor.
And the moon? It never left your side, following you like a silent companion.
Now, things are different. The murmur of the air has changed. Though it seems far away, the world travels quickly. And for some reason, we stopped noticing the wonder before we even realised it.
Running barefoot over dewy grass, exchanging secrets beneath the shade of trees, and chasing kites tangled in the wind were all part of a childhood that moved in a gentle dance with time.
Life Happens
In 2025, such circles have dissolved into WhatsApp chats and Instagram groups, where likes replace laughter and emojis stand in for facial expressions. Virtual worlds through PS5 controllers – where the only dirt is a smudge on your screen – have replaced playgrounds where stories were told by scraped knees.
Books that once smelt of adventure now live in quiet Kindle libraries, their pages tapped with cold fingertips rather than lovingly turned. Letters that were once handwritten are now replaced by instant messages that come and go in seconds. The songs of cicadas have been drowned out by smartwatch notifications, and the hum of air conditioning has replaced the scent of rain on damp earth.
Your favourite cartoon theme once marked after-school hours; now, AI curates perfectly timed background music that never quite feels personal. The warmth of a freshly made paratha competes with endless food delivery apps and ready-made meals. The moon that used to quietly follow you home now fades into the glare of street lamps and smartphone screens.
Still, the core remains: the thrill of simple moments, the feel of grass between your fingers, the crunch of jam biscuits shared with loved ones, the quiet presence of family around the breakfast table. Though the world has changed, fragments of childhood remain, waiting to be rediscovered.
Time and Neuroscience
The truth is, it’s not just about getting older. You’ve likely felt it: the stretch from ages 10 to 20 felt vast, while your twenties vanish in a blink.
It’s not your imagination. Research in neuroscience and psychology shows that attention, novelty, and memory encoding all influence how we perceive time. Time doesn’t pass at a steady rate; it bends and shifts depending on how our brains process the world around us.
Everything was new when we were children. We paid attention, noticed, asked questions and eagerly sought answers. We lived in awe, and our imaginations recorded even the smallest things – the shape of clouds, the dust spinning in a sunbeam, the hum of the refrigerator, and the rhythm of rain against the window.
But as we grow older, life becomes rhythmic and repetitive. Our brains, ever efficient, stop storing the mundane. The daily commute, the same four walls, the usual conversations – all blur. We stop noticing the world the same way we stop noticing our own breathing or the presence of our nose.
It’s not that time is accelerating. It’s that we’ve stopped paying attention.
It’s as plain as the nose on your face, but how much of the nose on your face can you see, unless someone holds a mirror up to you?
— Isaac Asimov
Why Years Fly By
Do you feel like the years are flying by?
You’re not alone. It’s a common experience with fascinating science behind it.
The Oddball Effect
Think of moments that felt long despite lasting only a few seconds. That’s the oddball effect – when something unexpected happens, your brain wakes up and works harder to remember it, making it feel longer in hindsight.
As children, everything was an adventure.
Remember your first trip to Lahore’s crowded Shah Alam Market? The cacophony of sounds, the bright colours of fabric, the aroma of spices – overwhelming in the best way. Or the thrill of your first Basant festival, the sky lit with kites and excitement in the air.
Even the first time you tried your grandmother’s special Eid biryani was an ‘oddball’ moment. Fresh, vibrant, and unforgettable – the kind that gets deeply etched into memory.
As we age, life becomes more predictable. We’ve been to countless markets, celebrated many Eids, and tasted thousands of delicious meals. Without novelty, our brains don’t need to work as hard – and time seems to shrink.
Time Flies
This is a simple idea: when you’re ten, a year is one-tenth of your life. At forty, it’s just one-fortieth.
That’s the proportional theory of time perception. Each year becomes a smaller fraction of our lived experience, and time seems to speed up. That’s why childhood summers – full of gully cricket, visits to relatives, and the last of the mangoes – felt endless.
And why, as adults, it feels like one Ramadan ends and the next one begins almost instantly. Like Eid-ul-Fitr and Eid-ul-Adha follow one another without pause.
Routine’s Grip: How Predictability Compresses Our Memories
Our brains are remarkably efficient. Do something often enough, and they stop recording every detail.
Think of your commute in a city like Faisalabad. The first few trips were rich with detail – the shop names, the faces, and the street corners.
But after months or years on the same route, it becomes routine. You might reach your destination without recalling the journey.
That’s the predictability trap. When life becomes routine, the brain logs fewer memories. And time, which we experience as a series of memories, feels compressed – shorter, less vivid, blurred into sameness.
Unfolding Moments: How to Slow Down the Pace of Life
Do your days feel like a blur? Always racing against time?
You can’t add more hours, but you can stretch the ones you have – by returning to the richness of the moment.
Subtle shifts, deep awakenings
Break your routine.
Try a different route through the old city’s winding alleys. Sip chai from a new khokha. Sit in a different corner of your own home.
Approach the familiar with new eyes.
Savour your morning doodh patti like it’s the first time. Trace the weave of a shawl or the details on a ceramic tile.
When on autopilot, pause and tune in.
What sounds define this moment? What colours swirl in your scene – truck art, market stalls? Can you smell fresh roti, jasmine, or rain-soaked earth?
Leave your screen. Go for a slow, purposeless walk. Let the street speak: faces, details, quiet motion.
Notice the way light moves through jali work, across rooftops, on the side of a rickshaw.
The Inner Science of Being Present
This isn’t just philosophy – it’s science. When you live fully in the moment, parts of your brain linked to awareness and sensation become more active.
It’s not about silencing thoughts. It’s about returning to this breath, this sound, this sensation. To notice your life unfolding as you live it.
The Magic of Childhood That Never Ends
That childhood feeling of endless time wasn’t about age – it was about attention. When we were lost in a game of gulli-danda or a bazaar stroll, we were entirely present.
That’s the magic.
And here’s the good news: it isn’t gone. It’s simply dormant. When you choose presence, your days regain their depth, and life feels real again – as if you’re truly living it.