The Cost Of Hustle Poem by Sumita Jetley

Kevin built a life so fine,
A business strong, a home that shined.
From the outside, all seemed right,
But inside him brewed a quiet fight.

Each weekend, he'd write his blog with care,
But time with family grew thin, and rare.
His son, Rohan, a three-year-old light,
Waited for moments that felt just right.

One evening came, as they often do,
Rohan's eyes sparkled, the track was set too.
"After dinner, we'll race, " Kevin said,
But his phone buzzed, and away his thoughts fled.

"Just a minute, " he whispered, eyes fixed on the screen,
Seconds turned to minutes, lost in the routine.
When he looked up, the truth hit hard—
Rohan sat waiting, red race car in guard.

A sigh escaped, a pang in his chest,
In that moment, he knew he'd failed the test.
It wasn't about time—he had plenty to give,
It was about presence, the choice to live.

His calendar packed, efficiency tight,
But love needs freedom, space in the light.
It doesn't fit neatly into blocks of the day,
It asks you to show up, to put work away.

He saw it then—the cost of his grind,
Moments missed, connections unlined.
In the race to succeed, he'd lost sight,
That sometimes the simplest things feel right.

Now, change comes slow, but he's taking it small,
One moment, one play, answering the call.
The phone stays down when Rohan says, "Play, "
It's a start, a shift, a better way.

The lesson he learned, a truth so plain—
Success is moments, not dollars or gain.
And if you're like Kevin, juggling it all,
Take a breath, be present—answer love's call.