The well-meaning neighbourhood uncle

Rajan Kapoor

THE other day, when an elderly man of my colony registered his protest against some boys driving recklessly, in a monthly meeting, a quarrel broke out among the parents of the boys accused of rash driving and the complainant. The complainant’s contention was that careless driving  posed a threat to limbs and lives of residents of the colony. But, the parents of the unruly boys did not appreciate the complaint and picked up a fight with the elderly man. The incident pained everyone. 

But this unpleasant incident reminded me of my childhood days  when a word of a neighbour was enough to send a shiver down my spine and that of my friends. I remembered Banwari Lal uncle, who ran a salon outside the street. Giant as he was, his thunderous voice would  often terrorise us. He would keep a watchful eye on the children of the mohalla and would often discourage them from carrying out any ‘wicked’ activity. He would either intervene himself to stop us from a ‘sinful’ activity or would report our mischievous acts to our parents, who had faith in him, entrusting him with powers to punish their wards if he ever found them going astray. 

I recall how one day he swooped on us and caught us — a group of boys — red-handed. We had made a plan to gamble and smoke in one of the isolated corners of the street. Banwari uncle got a whiff of it, and carried out a raid and torpedoed our nefarious plan. His presence froze our body. We knew hell would break loose if he reported us to our parents. We would not only be beaten black and blue, but also our freedom would be at stake, as restrictions would be imposed on us. We begged for mercy. He boxed our ears and landed us some slaps and punches. A stream of abuses also came our way to make us realise the magnitude of our action. He narrated a tale from the epic Mahabharata to recount the ill- effects of gambling. He extracted a promise from us that we would never commit such a mistake again. We promised and he left us go. 

He did not report the matter to our parents, but he did keep a close watch on our activities. His watchful eyes kept us away from the dangerous world of gambling and smoking. 

Alas! the times have changed. These days, if someone renders meaningful advice, he/she is ignored and warned to mind his/her own business. Gone are the days when the words of a neighbour or an elderly person of a mohalla were appreciated. These days, parents, too, bay for the blood of a person who issues a timely warning to them about impious and clandestine activities of their children. Where have those simple days gone?