Short essay on The Man Who Inspired Me for kids. Can I ever forget the octogenarian who stayed with us for two days? He was a tall, frail-looking man who commanded respect. He had immense patience and strove for perfection in everything.
He was sent to stay in our house to avoid the hustle and bustle—the crowd and noise due to a wedding in our neighbor’s house. My mother had agreed to have him as she was confident of giving him a calm and peaceful atmosphere in our house. But lo and behold, my sister arrived with her boisterous, naughty kids for a week.
My mother got up early in the morning to give milk to the kids before they started screaming. Mr. Joseph was up too, so mother offered him tea. As she was having tea with him, the kids came crowding in. They fired question after question. He calmly sat there, answering their questions with such patience that I was flabbergasted. In his place I would have felt exasperated and brushed them away.
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They asked him to make one thing after another. He not only made the things but also strove for perfection. I could not help but ask why he was taking such pains. It would tire him. Moreover, the children were bound to destroy these things in no time. He said to me in no uncertain terms, “Young one, never be sloppish. Nothing that has to be done can be so trivial, as to do it sloppishly. Whatever you undertake to do put in effort and do it to the best of your ability.”
Even now, when I do something carelessly, his words echo in my ears. He inspires me to take pains in everything I do. I hope I will at least be half the perfectionist he is.
