As I tread into the past, reminiscing about my childhood in the same country that now frequently makes headlines for all the wrong reasons, I find myself longing for a simpler time. Those of us born in the ’80s would understand this nostalgia, a time when life was less about material desires and more about meaningful connections. We were a family of nine, supported by a single breadwinner. Yet, life felt abundant. The idea of “hanging out” with friends was unfamiliar, and there was no pressure to wear branded clothes or dine at expensive restaurants. Simplicity defined our existence, and contentment came naturally. Social gatherings were a norm; Meelad, Dars, Quran Khwani, birthdays, and other celebrations brought together relatives and neighbours in a spirit of warmth and connection. Conversations were rich with laughter and stories, untouched by the obsession with luxury brands, elite schools, or material success – factors that now seem to define our worth.

More importantly, there was less stress. People shared more, connected more, and concealed less, whether it was their achievements, struggles, or simple joys. Life felt lighter, unburdened by the relentless pursuit of status. Today, when I share these memories with my daughter, she listens in disbelief, as if I am describing a world unfamiliar and almost unfathomable. To her, it seems as though I must have grown up in poverty or within a restrictive, conservative environment, neither of which is true. Life then was simply different, perhaps even richer in ways that modern comforts fail to offer.

Ramadan and Eid were awaited with an impatient joy that words fail to capture. On Eid, in particular, the greatest excitement revolved around receiving Eidi, which, though modest in amount, carried immense value. With it, we bought ice cream, an indulgence we relished with friends who were always around, unlike today when friendships often seem confined to digital interactions. I had more friends back then, yet less money. Yet, I always found ways to host and entertain them. Friendships were easy to maintain, unburdened by social hierarchies or the need to impress. They were pure, built on shared experiences rather than status or convenience, and many of those bonds have stood the test of time.

When I reflect on how much has changed, I think of the small acts of happiness and kindness that seem to have disappeared. Perhaps it’s not just time that has changed; people and values, too, have shifted in a continuous flux. Our priorities are no longer the same. Relationships, bonding, and community once formed the foundation of life; today, materialistic comforts, competition, and luxury take precedence. I do not intend to undermine the human pursuit of financial success. Progress is necessary, but it should never come at the cost of human connection, emotional well-being, and the communal spirit that once defined us.

Those of us born in the same decade have witnessed a remarkable transformation. We have seen the world change at an unprecedented pace: the turn of the century, the evolution of societies, and a technological revolution that continues to reshape our existence. We remember life before computers, before smartphones, before social media. We know what it’s like to survive without these modern conveniences. But today, as we consume technology at an overwhelming pace, often at the cost of our mental peace and societal harmony, it feels as though we are paying the price of progress. We have everything, yet we have lost so much. A past that was once ours now feels like a distant dream, one that can never be relived.