The Quiet Work of Books in the Age of Scrolling

From childhood escapes to adult reflections, reading holds the power to shape generations.

- By Priya Malik

Everything I know has come to me through reading.

And if I've learned one thing over the years, it's that there are seasons in a reader's life. When I was little, books were an escape. They were my secret doorways into forests where animals talked and nobody really died. I didn't think of it as “building an inner world” back then, but that’s exactly what those poems and stories were doing—laying down invisible bricks of courage and kindness long before I knew those words. They gave me a quiet sort of strength, the kind you don’t notice until much later.

As a teenager, reading changed shape. It wasn’t just about running away anymore; it became a way to look inward. Neruda’s words or a verse by Rumi seemed to describe my restless heart better than any friend could. I can still picture myself sitting cross-legged in the school library, nose deep in yellowed, dogeared pages, feeling seen in a way that conversations rarely allowed. When everything about being young felt like a moving target, books offered me the surprising comfort of permanence. That someone, somewhere, had felt exactly what I was feeling.