Life sometimes teaches its greatest lessons through the smallest incidents.
What appeared to be an ordinary office inspection became for me a profound lesson on words, patience, authority, and even prayer.
In our office stood an old fax machine — silent, outdated, and no longer in use. It had served its purpose years ago and was now carefully kept aside, awaiting transportation to the divisional office. Though it was no longer functional, it was preserved neatly and safely. The delay in shifting it was not ours; the divisional office had postponed the process for reasons known to them.
As office in-charge, I had ensured that everything remained organized.
One day, during an inspection, a senior officer visited our office.
Like all officers on inspection, his eyes moved swiftly across every corner, examining each detail with authority. Then his attention stopped at the old fax machine.
“What is this machine doing here?” he asked.
Wanting to answer clearly and honestly, I replied with confidence:
“Sir, it is contaminated machinery, kept safely here until transportation to the divisional office.”
The moment the word “contaminated” left my lips, the atmosphere changed.
His face tightened. His voice rose sharply.
“Who authorized you to call it contaminated? That term can only be used by an authenticated administrative officer!”
His words struck the room like thunder.
For a moment, silence filled the air.
I stood there, not because I had spoken falsely, but because I had unknowingly used a word whose official authority belonged elsewhere.
That day, I learned that words are not merely sounds.
They carry weight.
They carry boundaries.
They carry power.
A word may be correct in meaning, yet inappropriate in context.
But as I reflected later, I realized that the lesson was not only for me.
The officer too had revealed something.
If he had paused for a moment and asked calmly,
“What exactly do you mean?”
the truth would have unfolded naturally.
He would have understood there was no intention to misuse authority, no attempt to overstep procedure — only an honest explanation.
But impatience had spoken before understanding.
His quick temper had blindfolded his ability to see the truth behind the word.
That incident showed me a great truth about human nature:
A restless mind reacts.
A wise mind reflects.
Authority without patience becomes harshness.
Position without understanding becomes noise.
And then my thoughts turned toward something deeper.
If one must choose words carefully before a human superior, how much more carefully should one approach the Almighty?
Before earthly authority, we measure every sentence.
We think, we hesitate, we weigh each word because we fear correction.
Then what of prayer?
When we stand before God — the highest authority, the knower of all truth — our words should not be careless, mechanical, or empty.
That day, the old fax machine became my silent spiritual teacher.
It reminded me that prayer is not about speaking many impressive words.
It is about speaking with humility.
The officer’s impatience taught me what human authority often lacks.
Prayer teaches us what divine authority always possesses:
perfect patience, complete understanding, and calm truth.
Humans may judge instantly.
God listens fully.
Humans may react to words.
God sees the heart behind them.
That evening, I prayed quietly:
“Lord, teach me the wisdom to speak rightly,
the patience to remain calm when misunderstood,
the humility to accept correction,
and the understanding not to react before knowing the truth.”
Today, whenever I think of that old machine, I no longer see discarded equipment.
I see a lesson.
A lesson that taught me:
Choose words with wisdom.
Hold patience with dignity.
Speak with humility.
And pray with sincerity.
For sometimes, the greatest teachers in life are not people or books...
but a single moment,
a single correction,
and a single word.
Article by
Smt. Savithri Venkatesan,
Retired Postmaster,
Maharashtra Circle
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