In our neighborhood lived a unique personality—Uncle Trilokinath. His greatest talent was interfering in everything. Whether it was a household issue, a neighborhood matter, or even national affairs, Uncle’s opinion would arrive uninvited. People often joked that if a task was going too smoothly, they should call him over—he would make sure there was a complication.
Once, Mr. Sharma began painting his house. The walls were only half done when Uncle appeared. Examining the color thoughtfully, he declared, “This blue won’t do. Mix a little parrot green into it—the house will glow!” Poor Mr. Sharma got confused. The painter changed the shade, and the final result made the house look less elegant and more like an over-dressed parrot.
A few days later, Mr. Gupta bought a new scooter. Uncle instantly advised, “Don’t ride it long distances on the first day—the engine will get tired.” Mr. Gupta obediently followed the advice. The scooter remained parked for a week, and the battery died. Uncle nodded seriously and said, “See? Machines must be understood properly.”
His habit became so well-known that neighborhood children posted a lookout before starting a game. “Make sure Uncle isn’t coming!” they would whisper. One day during a cricket match, just as a batsman hit a six, Uncle shouted, “Keep your front foot forward! Your technique is wrong!” On the very next ball, the player was bowled out. Uncle nodded in satisfaction, as if his prediction had come true.
The funniest incident happened when Uncle himself was getting his rooftop repaired. A neighbor teased, “Uncle, don’t let anyone interfere!” Uncle smiled—but at that very moment, his foot slipped, and he narrowly escaped a fall.
After that day, he became slightly more cautious, though the habit never completely disappeared. Even now, he remains present in every discussion. The only difference is that people smile and say, “Uncle, feel free to interfere—but from a safe distance.”
RAJEEV VERMA 