The Pause That Taught Me In Mumbai’s rush, I raced with time, A life of haste, ambition’s climb. Rohan, the name, with dreams ablaze, No pause, no rest, in endless chase. Through traffic’s snarl, on wheels I flew, Deadlines my god, my heart they drew. But fate, unkind, had plans to show, A truck, a crash, and time turned slow. The asphalt bit, my leg was torn, A hospital bed, where fears were born. No screens, no calls, no tasks to claim, Just silence loud, and pain’s cruel game. “Be grateful,” said a nurse’s voice, Her eyes like stars, her words my choice. A notebook small, she placed in hand, “Find light,” she urged, “where shadows stand.” At first, I scoffed—what thanks to give? A broken leg? A life to live? But pen met page, and truth spilled free: I’m alive, I wrote, and that’s enough for me. The rain’s soft tap, the lassi’s sweet, The children’s laughs where hope would meet. My mother’s voice, with stories old, Warmed my heart, once rushed and cold. In stillness, life began to sing, The morning light, the sparrow’s wing. The tales of those who shared my ward, Their courage sharp, like a poet’s sword. “You ran too fast,” my mother said, “Chased fleeting dreams, left life for dead.” The crash, though cruel, had cracked my shell, And showed me where true riches dwell. Now chai in hand, I greet the dawn, No longer lost in hustle’s con. The notebook stays, my guiding star, To slow, to see, to know who we are. For even when the worst unfolds, There’s light to find, in tales retold. A pause can heal what speed destroys, And teach the heart to seek its joys. Poet: Vijay Sharma Erry