One of the bitter truths of today’s world is that, whether girls or boys, children or adults, most of us are more focused on capturing life’s moments than actually living them. Life seems to exist behind filters instead of in real time.

Wherever we go — a family dinner, a birthday party with friends, Eid celebrations or any other special occasion — we are busy clicking pictures. We are forgetting how to take life slow, sit and talk with family and friends, and listen to the stories of our elders. Slowly we are forgetting what such moments truly mean.

That is why today we have countless pictures, but fewer real memories. We forgot how to create memories because we were too busy trying to record them.

And it doesn’t end there. We often fail to realise the deeper impact of this habit. Many boys and girls have become so used to posting filtered pictures on Facebook, Instagram and other social media platforms that they no longer feel comfortable with their real faces. At such a young age, insecurities about physical appearance begin to grow.

They can speak confidently online, hiding behind screens and filters. But when it comes to meeting people face to face, they feel nervous, worrying that others will judge them for not looking exactly like their edited pictures. Many children do not understand that filters are not necessary. They should learn to accept themselves as they are. If they want to take pictures, they should do so confidently and embrace their natural appearance. Otherwise, their entire lives may be spent focusing only on what they believe are flaws.

I did not realise this truth myself either. I was living in the same way, until I understood it when it was already too late.

My grandmother lived with us and I had been very close to her since childhood. I would fall asleep listening to her stories at night. Most of my meals were cooked by her. I went everywhere with her. I received the purest form of love from her.

But as I grew older, something changed in me. Even when I sat beside her, I was not truly present. Instead of talking to her or listening to her stories, I remained busy taking pictures, editing them and posting them online. She would call me again and again to sit with her, but I was occupied with my phone — uploading posts, checking reactions and showing the world what I was doing.

Then one day, she left this world.

That was the day I truly understood what I had lost. I realised how many memories I could have created with her, how many more stories I could have listened to and how much more time I could have spent sitting quietly beside her. Instead, I had given more importance to temporary online attention than to her presence.

That realisation hit me deeply. I understood that pictures, on their own, hold no real value. It is the moments behind them that matter.

I began to think about all the picnics, Eid dinners and weddings I had attended over the years. I have albums full of photographs with my cousins — yet I struggle to recall the laughter, the conversations or the simple joy of being together with them at those moments. There are images, but very few living memories attached to them.

Today, I request the younger generation to learn how to create memories with their families, friends and loved ones. Wherever you are, learn to be present. Enjoy the moment fully. Taking pictures is not wrong, but it should be done in moderation.

So that years later, when you look back, you will not only have photographs to scroll through, but also warm memories that still make you smile.

Published in Dawn, Young World, April 4th, 2026