Before the internet, I used to read. Books were my heaven; my safety spot, the silence away from all the noise. My corner and my book was all I needed to survive. Was reading my escape? Yes, it was and no, it wasn't. I mean, reading did transport me to another world but it also gave me the ammunition to deal with the world around me. I was an avid reader. I would always have a book in my hand in case I had time to read it. Always. I would read in the car; to and from places. I would read at the restaurant while we were waiting for our meal. I didn’t care what people thought. I would just read. I would finish one book every three to four days.

But as life became busier, the ratio became one book every week and then one book every month. But I kept on reading no matter what. I liked to be lost in the world of fiction and even at times, non-fiction. Autobiographies of famous people intrigued me. I could learn from their experiences and I could use those skills and strategies in my own life. I still remember how much I learnt from the autobiography of Lee Iacocca; the American automobile executive who was president of the Chrysler Corporation. Reading his autobiography gave me an insight into the world of corporate red tape and also help develop a deep business acumen within me.

And on the fictional side it was Agatha Christie that I loved the most. I also loved the classics. Daphne Du Maurier, short stories by Somerset Maugham and then eventually the contemporary writer Jeffrey Archer. There was very little out there that didn't intrigue me and there was so much to read with very little time.

Eventually as a I grew up and had to enter the world of adulthood, I found friends who shared my passion for reading just as equally. And I loved sitting down with them and talking over the plots and the characters that we had engaged with in the books that we shared interests in.

And when it came to getting married I was very lucky to have found a soulmate in Fawad who loved to read too. “Going out” for us meant going to literature festivals and book fairs followed by dinner after which we would look forward to a quiet evening of reading. Since our children came so late in life, it only gave us more time to pursue our individual passions in work but also in pleasure too. I still remember the first meaningful gift that I got Fawad after our engagement. It was a collection of James Herriot’s books; all of them!

I wanted to show Fawad that not only was I an avid reader but I also had a fun side and humour was very important to me. Plus, I loved nature and animals. If anything, Fawad was shocked receiving the large bag that held not one but four books; tied all neatly with a red ribbon and a card. That card explained why I needed him to love books as much as me. He needed to understand that there was more to me than just being a traditional desi wife. I was more than the type casting of a perfect woman who was only seen and not heard. Who cleaned and cooked and had babies and was all about the taking care of in-laws and guests and always smiled. Oh my God, do people still think that this is what it means to have a wife or a daughter in law. I mean there was so much more. She is a human being for God’s sake.

Suffice to say that the little contact that we had back then; being an arranged match, I felt that by giving him these books and having him read them he would understand the kind of person I was. My parents were shocked that I did this. But I knew that if he didn't get this then he would never get me and it was better ending it right then and there. But Fawad understood, in fact, he had even read a few stories of James Herriot in the Reader’s Digest and he was equally fascinated to read more. I was over the top, happy and relieved. I knew I had found the right match.

I also wanted Fawad to know that I didn't have any unreasonable expectations from him either. A husband is not just someone who comes home every night with bundles of cash and that a wife can spend. Nor is he someone who will always be there answering to all her whims and her needs. He is also a human being with many angles and facets and understanding them is just as important as being understood. I took on this role as well.

Through our love for common interests I wanted us to be a couple that really became soulmates and were not just there for the kids.

Hmm; I have a feeling that I have digressed from the point at hand. I wanted to tell you all how reading these days has been taken over by my love and passion for movies and TV shows and I have it all to blame on the internet. Previously, I would read before falling asleep and now I watch my favourite shows.

In retrospect how bad is that? I mean a person literally slaves all day long on tasks that do not interest him on most days. And after spending time with family, what have they done for themselves? There comes Netflix to save the day.

(So with that out of the way. We have successfully killed a generation’s creativity and introduced something to not just keep them occupied but to also further throttle their revolutionary ideas if there were any. Meh.)

And lately, Netflix has not been disappointing. I recently finished two very engaging shows that have opened my eyes to the world of drug cartels and money laundering and also fraud. Both shows proved one thing without doubt that crime doesn't pay. Marty Byrd in Ozark tries and tries and tries to get out of the rut that he finds himself in but can’t and no matter how passionate Anna Delvey was to create her art foundation and tried to convince everyone that she was a German Heiress and tried to build a legitimate business; the truth caught up to her. She was seen only as a fraud and a wannabe.

So, is watching movies so bad aferall? Exchanging reading for a good TV show or a movie? I would say that watching a show is not a substitute to reading a book but its not that bad on its own. I mean, we should still all be reading, don't get me wrong. But I think in some way or another we are still feeding the creative parts of our minds. I mean, going to art galleries or watching plays at the theatre are also ways to improve our mind, then why is Netflix a waste of time? •