When screens replace shelves

Islamabad’s old book markets fight for survival

The flicker of computer screens and the endless scroll of mobile apps are quietly rewriting the reading culture of Pakistan’s capital, where second-hand book bazaars once thrived as vibrant spaces of affordable learning, stand eerily quiet today.

they are the casualties of a digital shift that has replaced the joy of browsing shelves with the convenience of PDFs and online libraries. “In the last two decades, our sales have dropped by nearly 70%,” said Mustafa Qureshi, owner of a long-running book centre in Islamabad.

His words reflect a harsh reality for sellers who remember when weekends meant long queues at their stalls, bustling with students and book lovers. For decades, Islamabad’s second-hand bookshops — from Aabpara and Melody to Jinnah Super and I-10 — served as havens for readers of every age.

Here, students found affordable textbooks, researchers uncovered reference works, and casual visitors stumbled across rare novels or hidden gems. Book bazaars were not just markets; they were cultural spaces that offered both knowledge and a sense of discovery.

Today, that atmosphere has evaporated. Rows of once-crowded stalls now sit nearly deserted, their shelves lined with books that few stop to touch. Shopkeepers blame a combination of factors: digital libraries, mobile apps, inflation, and even changing lifestyles.

One of the biggest challenges is technology. Students who once relied on second-hand markets now have free study material at their fingertips. Online repositories, mobile apps, and PDFs have turned course books into downloadable files.

“Hardly anyone comes anymore. Everyone says they already have the book in PDF,” said Tariq, a bookseller in Melody. Another seller in I-10 Markaz admitted that some days he sells no more than two or three books, far from the income he once relied on to support his family.

Rising tuition fees and inflation have compounded the problem. Families facing tighter budgets prioritise only essential course material, often in photocopied form, while leisure reading has dropped sharply.

The old habit of weekend book-hunting has lost its charm for a younger generation absorbed by smartphones and social media.

Parents, too, feel the shift. “When we were students, these stalls were our main source of affordable books. Now my children hardly pick up a physical book — they just study on screens,” said a father of two from G-10.

Another mother highlighted how frequent syllabus changes add to their burden: “Every year the syllabus changes, so younger children can’t even reuse the books of their elder siblings. We are forced to buy new books at full price, which makes old book centres irrelevant and adds to our expenses.”

University campuses have also altered the trade with their culture of photocopying. Students often opt for cheaper photocopies or scanned chapters instead of buying even discounted reference texts. Seasonal book fairs and the rise of large retail chains add more competition, drawing away buyers who once sustained small stalls.

For long-time sellers, the decline carries both financial and emotional weight. “We used to earn enough to support our families just from book sales. Now, it’s becoming impossible to survive in this business,” said Muhammad Arshad, who runs a stall in I-10.

Another vendor at Jinnah Super pointed to the dust gathering on once-coveted titles: “Even rare novels or history collections that once attracted readers are now ignored. Young people simply don’t have the same interest.”

Not all corners of the trade are collapsing. In F-7 Markaz, bookseller Farid Abbasi has observed a steadier demand for old, rare, and out-of-print English and Urdu works. Classics such as Aag Ka Darya, Raja Gidh, and Shahab Nama continue to attract a loyal readership.