Sunday Story 26: Disruptor

UNCLE BHALERAO HAD a way of whooshing into rooms. He was a large man, and not even his closest friends would call him a nimble mover on two feet, especially while carrying his black umbrella, and taking utmost care with the ends of his cream-white dhoti to keep it off the muddy paths of Palem. Like any man with much to lose, he navigated his surroundings with care and caution.

Despite this, after he had come and gone, witnesses had been known to describe him in words usually reserved for formidab...