“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.” ~Viktor E. Frankl
A few months ago, I was on a crowded highway with my wife and son. Traffic was barely moving. Vehicles were inching forward, one small gap at a time, with the usual impatience hanging in the air.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang. It sounded like something had burst.
For a second, I didn’t understand what had happened. Then I realized a motorcyclist trying to squeeze through the narrow space between cars had hit us. His side bar had torn into our rear tire, and he had fallen onto the road.
We stepped out immediately. We were all shaken. The motorcyclist was getting up, visibly startled.
My first reaction was anger.
We had already been stuck in that traffic jam for over an hour, and now there was a damaged tire to deal with in the middle of it. The inconvenience, the carelessness, the sudden disruption—it all came together in that moment.
But something unexpected happened.
My son was driving, and I could sense the tension in him. The motorcyclist walked up, apologized, and offered to pay a small amount for the damage. It was clearly not enough, and under different circumstances, we might have argued.
I might have reacted very differently. Raised my voice, questioned his carelessness, and insisted on compensation right there on the road.
It could easily have turned into an argument, drawing attention and adding to the chaos around us. And it would have only added to that tension.
Instead, we focused on the immediate problem. Changing a tire in that kind of traffic was not possible. Cars were packed too closely, and there was no space to do it safely.
So we made a tough decision. We drove on.
For nearly two kilometers, we moved carefully on a damaged tire, the car unsteady, the sound of it reminding us of what had just happened. Eventually, we found a small roadside tire shop and got it replaced.
The entire episode set us back by almost two hours.
For a while, there was still tension. We had already been irritated before the incident, and this had only added to it. But as we got back on the road, something shifted.
We found ourselves talking normally again. We stopped for a delicious lunch and, almost without noticing, began to enjoy the rest of the journey.
Later, I thought about how easily that moment could have gone differently.
We could have argued with the motorcyclist. We could have held on to the anger, replaying the incident in our minds. It would not have changed what had happened. The tire would still have needed to be replaced. The delay would still have been there.
But it would have changed the rest of the day.
Sometimes, not reacting is not about being calm or patient in a deliberate way. It is simply about seeing clearly what the situation needs.
In that moment, what we needed was not an argument. It was a solution.
The anger came, but it did not stay. And because it did not stay, it did not take anything more from us than it already had.
That small difference changed the experience of the entire day.
It reminded me that we often carry moments longer than necessary, turning them over in our minds, letting them shape what comes next.
But sometimes, we can let them pass.
Not because they don’t matter, but because holding on to them does not help.
And when we do that, even an ordinary day that briefly went wrong can find its way back again.
About Ashok B. Heryani
Ashok B. Heryani writes reflective essays on everyday life, exploring human behavior, social patterns, and the quiet forces that shape how we live and relate to one another.
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Ref: https://tinybuddha.com/blog/what-happened-when-we-chose-not-to-react-in-anger/
