Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra, known for his wit and wisdom, is a prolific writer, renowned satirist, children’s literature author, and poet. He has undertaken the monumental task of writing, editing, and coordinating a total of 55 books for the Telangana government at the primary school, college, and university levels. His editorial endeavors also include online editions of works by Acharya Ramchandra Shukla.

As a celebrated satirist, Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra has carved a niche for himself, with over eight million viewers, readers, and listeners tuning in to his literary musings on the demise of a teacher on the Sahitya AajTak channel. His contributions have earned him prestigious accolades such as the Telangana Hindi Academy’s Shreshtha Navyuva Rachnakaar Samman in 2021, presented by the honorable Chief Minister of Telangana, Mr. Chandrashekhar Rao. He has also been honored with the Vyangya Yatra Ravindranath Tyagi Stairway Award and the Sahitya Srijan Samman, alongside recognition from Prime Minister Narendra Modi and various other esteemed institutions.

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra’s journey is not merely one of literary accomplishments but also a testament to his unwavering dedication, creativity, and profound impact on society. His story inspires us to strive for excellence, to use our talents for the betterment of others, and to leave an indelible mark on the world. Today we present his Satire Netaji and the New Revolution... . 

☆ Witful Warmth # 27 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ Netaji and the New Revolution…  ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

Netaji visited our neighborhood. Although his real name was something else, his political cunning had earned him this title. Netaji was full of enthusiasm. Early in the morning, there was a knock at my door. When I opened it, there stood Netaji, smiling broadly. He said, “Brother, your rooftop is perfectly aligned. For the sake of the nation, hand it over to us.”

I was stunned. “The rooftop? For the nation?”

“Yes,” he said with a serious expression. “You see, we’ll use this rooftop to draft the blueprint for a new revolution. The time has come to change the nation. Rooftops are the real laboratories of revolutions. Remember Bhagat Singh’s rooftop?”

I tried to respond, but his torrent of words left me speechless. “And don’t worry,” Netaji reassured me. “All you need to do is arrange some tea and snacks. Revolutionaries can’t work on an empty stomach.”

Before I could fully comprehend, he entered my house. His team, comprising three men and a camera, promptly climbed up to the rooftop. It felt as if a film shoot was underway. Meanwhile, the neighbors began gathering.

Netaji held his first meeting. “Listen, comrades! This revolution isn’t just about one person. It will rise from every rooftop. And today, it begins from this very rooftop.”

The crowd broke into applause. Hesitantly, I asked, “Netaji, but what is this revolution about?”

“Excellent question!” Netaji replied with a smile. “This revolution is against corruption, against inflation, and against everyone who stands in our way.”

“But what’s the plan?” I asked again.

“The plan?” Netaji hesitated. “The plan is to form a revolutionary committee on every rooftop. These committees will then bring about change across the nation, rooftop by rooftop.”

I couldn’t tell if this was a plan or the abandonment of logic. Yet, the neighbors were so inspired by his speech that some even offered their rooftops.

Netaji stayed for two days. Each day, the consumption of tea and the chanting of slogans escalated. On the third day, he turned serious. “Comrades, there’s a significant obstacle in this revolution. We urgently need funds.”

Now, the situation became clear. The neighbors, who had been his ardent fans just two days earlier, began to slip away quietly.

“Brother,” I said, “you’ve already taken my house and my rooftop. What more do you need?”

Smiling, Netaji replied, “A small sacrifice for the nation’s sake. This sacrifice is for the future of your children.”

The next morning, Netaji and his team were gone. All that remained on the rooftop were banners and remnants of slogans. The neighbors sarcastically remarked, “Wow! What a revolution!”

A few days later, news came that Netaji was preparing for a new revolution on the rooftop of another neighborhood. The village head quipped, “For Netaji, revolution means a new rooftop every time. But don’t worry, he only changes rooftops, not ideas.”

That’s when I realized the difference between revolution and politics—revolutions show dreams, and politics sells them.

*

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Contact : Mo. +91 73 8657 8657, Email : [email protected]

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra, known for his wit and wisdom, is a prolific writer, renowned satirist, children’s literature author, and poet. He has undertaken the monumental task of writing, editing, and coordinating a total of 55 books for the Telangana government at the primary school, college, and university levels. His editorial endeavors also include online editions of works by Acharya Ramchandra Shukla.

As a celebrated satirist, Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra has carved a niche for himself, with over eight million viewers, readers, and listeners tuning in to his literary musings on the demise of a teacher on the Sahitya AajTak channel. His contributions have earned him prestigious accolades such as the Telangana Hindi Academy’s Shreshtha Navyuva Rachnakaar Samman in 2021, presented by the honorable Chief Minister of Telangana, Mr. Chandrashekhar Rao. He has also been honored with the Vyangya Yatra Ravindranath Tyagi Stairway Award and the Sahitya Srijan Samman, alongside recognition from Prime Minister Narendra Modi and various other esteemed institutions.

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra’s journey is not merely one of literary accomplishments but also a testament to his unwavering dedication, creativity, and profound impact on society. His story inspires us to strive for excellence, to use our talents for the betterment of others, and to leave an indelible mark on the world. Today we present his Satire Satire ☆ Smart city, smart people, smart decisions!.… . 

☆ Witful Warmth # 26 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ Smart city, smart people, smart decisions!…  ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

Some days ago, a new kind of “modern” and “smart” city council was formed in our area. When I heard that new appointments had been made to the council, I was shocked. I had never thought that the council did anything apart from raising salaries. I tried to ask some officials about it, and they told me, “Without these people, no one would trust the council’s work style, and that’s exactly why they were appointed.”

One of the council members was someone who had never stepped outside the council boundaries. The reason? “Just think about it; people like this can bring a unique perspective—those who have no connection with the council.” The most surprising thing was that one committee member had spent his entire life lying at home without ever working. When I asked why he was included, the answer was, “Because his name suddenly became quite popular, so his presence is essential.”

Then I was told about a member who could neither see nor hear but was still a crucial part of the council. This ghostly member viewed the council’s tasks from a “decision-making” perspective. The funniest part is that without this member’s “decision,” all council work would remain incomplete. People of the city are not only influenced by government departments for their work but are also impressed by this member’s miraculous decisions.

Now, the question arose, if none of the council members could see or hear, what would happen in the city? I expressed my concern over the city’s situation, and they told me, “This is all perfectly fine because decisions made by the blind and deaf can never go wrong. Now, if we accidentally fail to fix a road, it’s not our fault but rather society’s. We have to overlook such things.”

A member of the council was also a renowned ‘great’ Acharya (scholar). This Acharya might represent a kind of wisdom to the council members, but his role here was carefully evaluated. When asked why he was included, the answer was, “His presence is necessary to maintain balance in the council files, just as the Acharya himself maintains balance in his life by his very presence.”

Another new creation was included—a doctor, whose sole task was to examine whether any kind of “health crisis” was emerging in every road, alley, and park. When I asked, “What kind of doctor is this?” the answer was, “This doctor only takes care of the health of roads and buildings. Do you understand?”

The slyest member of the council was one who had been appointed as an animal doctor. His duty was to monitor whether the bears, cows, and cats roaming on the city’s roads were in good health or not. Now, you can imagine what great purpose might be hidden behind such profound thoughtfulness.

Then, another esteemed personality arrived—our city’s famous “Elephant Barber.” When I asked why he was included, they told me, “Oh dear, don’t you understand? In movies, the characters’ hair is of great importance. And when hair grows out of control on the city’s streets, we need a barber to fix it.”

I asked, “But why only hair?” The answer was, “Oh, hair is essential. The importance of hair can be seen in every work of the council. This barber is a highly useful person.”

After analyzing all these decisions and members, I found it to be nothing short of a bizarre experiment. All the council members were eccentric characters in one way or another. One had proven excellence in his unique field, and another had surely demonstrated his contribution. It was members like these who were chosen to make the council’s work style “ultramodern” and “smart.”

After I had understood everything, I realized the level of foresight that had gone into forming this city council. A truly “balanced” and “smart” board had been created.

*

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Contact : Mo. +91 73 8657 8657, Email : [email protected]

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra, known for his wit and wisdom, is a prolific writer, renowned satirist, children’s literature author, and poet. He has undertaken the monumental task of writing, editing, and coordinating a total of 55 books for the Telangana government at the primary school, college, and university levels. His editorial endeavors also include online editions of works by Acharya Ramchandra Shukla.

As a celebrated satirist, Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra has carved a niche for himself, with over eight million viewers, readers, and listeners tuning in to his literary musings on the demise of a teacher on the Sahitya AajTak channel. His contributions have earned him prestigious accolades such as the Telangana Hindi Academy’s Shreshtha Navyuva Rachnakaar Samman in 2021, presented by the honorable Chief Minister of Telangana, Mr. Chandrashekhar Rao. He has also been honored with the Vyangya Yatra Ravindranath Tyagi Stairway Award and the Sahitya Srijan Samman, alongside recognition from Prime Minister Narendra Modi and various other esteemed institutions.

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra’s journey is not merely one of literary accomplishments but also a testament to his unwavering dedication, creativity, and profound impact on society. His story inspires us to strive for excellence, to use our talents for the betterment of others, and to leave an indelible mark on the world. Today we present his Satire Emotional ICU… . 

☆ Witful Warmth # 25 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ Emotional ICU…  ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

This story takes place on the day Pitambar Chaube was admitted to the district’s most “famous” government hospital, Bhainsa Hospital, to take his last breath. The doctors had said, “It’s just a matter of a few more days; treatment is essential.” Chaube had thought, let’s go to the government hospital, save some money, and benefit from the government facilities. But who knew that there’s even a government protocol for the “expired”?

When Chaube reached the hospital ward, on the very first day, the doctor told him, “This is a government hospital; there’s no scope for emotions here. We just treat patients, that’s all.”

Then came the day when Pitambar Chaube took his last breath on the hospital bed. Standing beside him, his pregnant wife, Sandhya Chaube, felt her world come to a standstill. But in the hospital, everything is “managed,” and there’s no “concern” for emotions here. As soon as Chaube passed away, Head Nurse Shanta Madam barged into the ward with a crowd of staff. Her face was as though she had come to conduct the “ultimate hygiene check.”

“Hey, Sandhya Devi! Clean this bed first. There’s no concept of personal loose moments here, okay? Do the cleaning quickly,” the nurse commanded, as if Chaube had merely soiled a bed and not lost his life.

Sandhya Chaube, engulfed in the sorrow of her husband’s death, soon realized that in the hospital, emotions are only “public displays of sentiment.” Here, they are just an “event” in the government records, meant to be erased once over. As soon as the nurse issued her “order,” tears began to flow from Sandhya’s eyes. She looked at the bed, as though glancing at her husband’s last remnant for the final time. But the hospital staff was like programmed machines, with no connection to emotions.

“Madam, tears won’t help. This is a government hospital; forget about ‘emotional attachment’ here,” Head Nurse Shanta said, as if counting emotions was part of her daily “departmental protocol.”

Just then, Dr. Nandkishore Yadav arrived, holding his notepad, and announced, “We need bed cleaning here. There’s no scope for emotions. On government beds, only sweat and blood stains are allowed, no place for tears.”

Sandhya looked at the doctor. She may have tried to say something, but there was a kind of pain that words couldn’t convey. And Dr. Yadav issued another “professional guideline,” “Look, we need to admit a new patient here. This is a hospital, not your personal emotional zone!”

At that moment, janitor Haricharan Singh entered, with a broom on his shoulder and an old bucket in his hand. “Come on, sister-in-law! Finish up quickly, we have to get our work done too. There’s no time for this ’emotional drama’ here.”

As soon as Haricharan Singh said this, Nurse Shanta burst into laughter, “Look at that, our hardworking staff. Sister-in-law, these tears are your own ‘personal chemicals,’ but here we have a public hygiene protocol. If things keep going like this, this hospital will turn into an ’emotional park’!”

Sandhya Chaube even had to hear that her tears could spoil the “purity” of this government bed. It was as if her husband’s death and the “sanitization” of the bed were one and the same issue. “Is this bed like a temple idol that needs to be kept pure?” Sandhya thought. But who would listen? Here, everyone was only concerned with the “outcome” of their work.

The bed, which had witnessed someone’s last moments, was now reduced to a mere “dirty garment.” The grief of Chaube’s passing, the pain of his death, in the staff’s language, became nothing more than a “management task,” one to be handled with equal indifference, as though lying on that bed was not a human being, but simply an “expired product on a trolley.”

This society, this system—where emotions become mere “formalities” in government files, and such incidents are viewed as though they’re entertainment. As soon as the bed was vacated, space was immediately prepared for a new patient. After all, the government hospital must keep running; Pitambar Chaube’s “emotional case” was not their concern.

This kind of government system has created an “Emotional ICU” within every human, where emotions are broken, yet no one seems to care.

*

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Contact : Mo. +91 73 8657 8657, Email : [email protected]

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra, known for his wit and wisdom, is a prolific writer, renowned satirist, children’s literature author, and poet. He has undertaken the monumental task of writing, editing, and coordinating a total of 55 books for the Telangana government at the primary school, college, and university levels. His editorial endeavors also include online editions of works by Acharya Ramchandra Shukla.

As a celebrated satirist, Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra has carved a niche for himself, with over eight million viewers, readers, and listeners tuning in to his literary musings on the demise of a teacher on the Sahitya AajTak channel. His contributions have earned him prestigious accolades such as the Telangana Hindi Academy’s Shreshtha Navyuva Rachnakaar Samman in 2021, presented by the honorable Chief Minister of Telangana, Mr. Chandrashekhar Rao. He has also been honored with the Vyangya Yatra Ravindranath Tyagi Stairway Award and the Sahitya Srijan Samman, alongside recognition from Prime Minister Narendra Modi and various other esteemed institutions.

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra’s journey is not merely one of literary accomplishments but also a testament to his unwavering dedication, creativity, and profound impact on society. His story inspires us to strive for excellence, to use our talents for the betterment of others, and to leave an indelible mark on the world. Today we present his Satire The Honorable Bureaucrat’s New Coat. 

☆ Witful Warmth # 24 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ The Honorable Bureaucrat’s New Coat ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

One day, a grand decision was made in our town’s esteemed Municipal Office—a decision that was to shake the very foundations of governance. The Senior Officer, whom we call the Protector of Files, had resolved to buy a new coat. Not just any coat—oh no! This was to be a coat that would symbolize his stature, power, and unmatched dedication to public service. After all, what is governance without good clothing? Who would respect a leader who looks as if his attire is bought from the same street vendor who sells rickshaw tarps?

The town, eager to support this noble endeavor, rallied behind the decision. The District Planning Committee called an emergency meeting. Forget roads and drains—this was a far more urgent affair. The coat was to be made of the finest imported wool, specially flown in from some mysterious land (likely a country that values its sheep more than its citizens). After all, a man of the Officer’s caliber deserved nothing less than sheep blessed by foreign winds.

A committee was instantly formed to oversee the purchase of the fabric, the stitching, and the final fitting. There was no shortage of enthusiasm. Each department offered to contribute. The Finance Department, always a shining example of prudence, immediately diverted funds that had been earmarked for some trivial project like school repairs. “What’s the use of educating children,” they argued, “if our Senior Officer catches a cold in his old coat?”

The Health Department, too, threw in their weight. They were quick to point out that the Officer’s new coat was a public health issue. If he were to catch pneumonia, the entire machinery of the state would collapse! Therefore, it was decided that the best doctors from the government hospital would be involved in the measurement process to ensure perfect insulation. “The Officer’s health is the nation’s health,” declared the Chief Medical Officer, whose stethoscope had not touched a patient in years but gleamed impressively nonetheless.

Meanwhile, the town’s media took up the cause with great zeal. Editorial after editorial praised the visionary decision. “In these trying times,” wrote one well-known columnist, “what we need are leaders who are well-dressed, for appearances matter more than actions. The coat will give the Officer the gravitas he requires to command respect during the numerous ribbon-cutting ceremonies and photo-ops.” The local newspaper even began running a daily “Coat Update,” informing the public of every new development. One headline read: The Fabric Arrives—Hope for a Bright Future.

As the coat began taking shape, the Officer was seen glowing with newfound energy. His gait became more majestic, his speeches more profound. “I feel the weight of responsibility on my shoulders,” he said during a televised interview, adjusting his spectacles dramatically. Of course, it wasn’t the coat’s weight that he was referring to, but the burden of carrying the hopes and dreams of an entire town on his broad, padded shoulders.

However, not everyone was happy. A group of dissidents, always prone to pessimism, began murmuring in discontent. “Why is so much money being spent on a coat when there are real issues to address?” asked a particularly irritating school teacher whose salary had been delayed for three months. But these voices were quickly drowned out. “This is the problem with our society,” countered a prominent local businessman. “We never think big. We always focus on trivial matters like food, education, and sanitation. Can’t you see that this coat will elevate our entire district’s status? When the Officer walks into meetings with other bureaucrats, they will all look at his coat and think, ‘Now here is a town that knows how to dress its leaders!'”

Finally, the day arrived when the coat was unveiled. The town gathered in the central square, decorated with garlands and banners reading “Long Live the Officer’s Coat!”. Children were given half-holidays from school so they could attend the historic event. The coat, when revealed, gleamed under the sun. It was a work of art—each stitch a testament to the craftsmanship, dedication, and patriotism that had gone into its making.

As the Officer donned the coat, the crowd erupted in applause. Tears of joy were shed. Old women clutched their hearts in awe. Even the stray dogs gathered around, as if sensing the momentousness of the occasion. The Officer, his chest puffed out in pride, waved regally at the masses, who cheered and shouted, “Long live the coat!”

Thus, a new era began for our town. The coat became a symbol of everything we stood for—our priorities, our values, and most importantly, our commitment to ensuring that those in power always look the part, even if nothing else changes.

And as the Officer basked in his newfound glory, we all went back to our lives, still walking on broken roads, drinking dirty water, and waiting for the next great decision.

*

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Contact : Mo. +91 73 8657 8657, Email : [email protected]

Padmashree Padmaja Phenany Joglekar

☆ Tribute – Ratan Tata ☆ Padmashree Padmaja Phenany Joglekar ☆

I am deeply saddened by the unfortunate demise of Respected Ratan Tata ji. I vividly remember our meeting at a Tata Hospital function where I had the pleasure of performing. After my concert he met me warmly and was so appreciative.  I also had the honour of presenting to him the portrait of JRD crafted by my father Shankar Phenany thru a now forgotten but a very difficult art form called Scrapper board. He was thrilled to receive this portrait.

I am confident that his soul must have been welcomed in Heaven with Great enthusiasm. So let us celebrate the legacy of this great Human being and try to imbibe in our lives the path of rightiousness & Morality which he proudly prescribed all his life.  OM SHANTI 🙏🏻🕉️

Padmashree Padmaja Phenany Joglekar

≈ Blog Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈

Mrs. Manjusha Sunit Mulay  

☆ Ratan Tata… । In His Own Words! ☆ Compiled by – Mrs Manjusha Sunit Mulay ☆

“I had a happy childhood, but as my brother & I got older, we faced ragging because of our parent’s divorce, which in those days wasn’t as common. My grandmom brought us up.

“Soon after, when my mother remarried, the boys at school started saying all kinds of things about us. But our grandmother taught us to retain dignity at all costs, a value that’s always stayed with me. It involved walking away from these situations instead of fighting back.

“And if it weren’t for grandmom, I wouldn’t be half the person I am today.

“My father and I couldn’t agree on the same thing – I wanted to go to college in the US, he insisted on UK. I wanted to be an architect, he insisted on me becoming an engineer. If it weren’t for my grandmother, I wouldn’t have ended up at Cornell University in the US. It was because of her that even though I enrolled for mechanical engineering, I switched majors & graduated with a degree in architecture. My father was upset, but I was finally my own, independent person in college & it was my grandmother who taught me that courage to speak up can also be soft.

“After college, I landed a job at an architecture firm in LA, where I worked for 2 years. It was a great time – the weather was beautiful & I loved my job. It was in LA that I fell in love & almost got married. But at the same time I’d made the decision to move back, at least temporarily, since grandmom wasn’t keeping too well. So I came back to visit her & thought that the person I wanted to marry would come to India with me, but because of the 1962 Indo-China war her parent’s weren’t okay with her making the move anymore & the relationship fell apart.

“After the move, I did spend some time with my grandmom. I’d run with my dog, catch up with her & we’d have long chats. I’m glad I got that time with her before she passed, because right after I moved to Jamshedpur for an internship at what’s known as Tata Motors now.

It was a waste of time – I was moved from one department to another & since I was a family member, no one told me what to do – I spent 6 months trying to be ‘useful’.

“It was only after I moved to Tata Steel that I got specific work & my job got interesting. I started from the floor & understood the plight of those working there. So years later, when we downsized Tata Steel from 78,000 to 40,000, we ensured to pay them their present day wages until retirement–it’s been in our DNA to serve those who serve us.

“Then, in 1991, JRD stepped down as the Chairman of Tata Industries and then from Tata Sons, there was vicious criticism.

There were other aspirants, who were vocal of him having made the wrong decision. I had been through this before, so I did what I knew best–maintained silence & focused on proving myself.

The criticism was personal–JRD got clubbed with nepotism & I, as the wrong choice. I was under scrutiny, but the time I spent on the floor served as a big plus – I hadn’t gotten there from nowhere!

“All in all, it was a big move. I remember after I was appointed Chairman, I walked with JRD to his office, where he told his secretary that he had to move out. I said, ‘No, J, don’t move out, this is your office for as long as you want.’ He said, ‘Where will you sit?’ I said, ‘Where I’m sitting today–I have an office down the hall & that’s fine.’

“I was lucky to have him there. He was my greatest mentor & the years that he was alive, I used to go into his office & say, ‘J, I wish this had happened 10 years ago, we have such a great relationship.’ He was like a father & a brother to me & not enough’s been said about that.

“Ever since, my life has been for & about growing the company. When I was appointed Chairman, it was believed my surname got me the position, but my focus was on creating something bigger than us all & on giving back, which has been in the TATA DNA since the start.

With Jamshedpur for instance, while our workers were thriving, the surrounding villages were suffering. It became our goal to uplift their quality of life as well … things like these came naturally to us.

“Even with the Nano – I remember seeing a family of 4 on a bike in the heavy Bombay rain—I wanted to do more for these families who were risking their lives for lack of an alternative. By the time we launched the Nano, our costs were higher, but I’d made a promise & we delivered. Looking back, I’m proud of the car & the decision to go ahead with it.

“That’s what my life has been about—work became a lifestyle. I was always at Bombay House or travelling, that’s why even though I came close to marriage with 2-3 different partners, I couldn’t go through with it because they’d have to adjust to my lifestyle & that didn’t sit right with me.

“Now that I’m retired, that lifestyle has changed again. People ask if I’m truly ‘retired’ & to that I say—there’s no doubt about it. I’m enjoying the separation from the company—I don’t look at newspapers & worry about the bad stuff anymore.

“But let me tell you, retirement isn’t about playing golf, or reading on a beach, whilst sipping on a cocktail. In fact, never before has the urge to do more, been greater. From affordable cancer treatment, to making the lives in rural India easier—I’m looking forward to making it happen at the Tata Trust. I’m trying to enjoy myself to be honest— I’m spending time with friends —old & new, across age groups, who I’m constantly learning from.

“At 82, I’m still learning, so when you ask me to give advice, I feel like the ‘right advice’ changes over a period of time—but the one thing that remains unchanged is the desire to do the right thing.

“So I’ll say this —leave the advice & do the right thing, even if it isn’t the easiest thing to do. When you look back at your life, that’s what’s going to matter the most. Doing the right thing.”

# RatanTata

Compiled by – Mrs Manjusha Sunit Mulay 

≈ Blog Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra, known for his wit and wisdom, is a prolific writer, renowned satirist, children’s literature author, and poet. He has undertaken the monumental task of writing, editing, and coordinating a total of 55 books for the Telangana government at the primary school, college, and university levels. His editorial endeavors also include online editions of works by Acharya Ramchandra Shukla.

As a celebrated satirist, Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra has carved a niche for himself, with over eight million viewers, readers, and listeners tuning in to his literary musings on the demise of a teacher on the Sahitya AajTak channel. His contributions have earned him prestigious accolades such as the Telangana Hindi Academy’s Shreshtha Navyuva Rachnakaar Samman in 2021, presented by the honorable Chief Minister of Telangana, Mr. Chandrashekhar Rao. He has also been honored with the Vyangya Yatra Ravindranath Tyagi Stairway Award and the Sahitya Srijan Samman, alongside recognition from Prime Minister Narendra Modi and various other esteemed institutions.

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra’s journey is not merely one of literary accomplishments but also a testament to his unwavering dedication, creativity, and profound impact on society. His story inspires us to strive for excellence, to use our talents for the betterment of others, and to leave an indelible mark on the world. Today we present his Satire The Great Festive Season Loot. 

☆ Witful Warmth # 23 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ The Great Festive Season Loot ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

As the festive season descended upon the bustling streets of the city, a peculiar phenomenon took hold of its residents: an almost involuntary urge to part with their hard-earned money in a frenzy of shopping, gifting, and celebrations. The air was thick with the fragrance of freshly made sweets, the sounds of garish music, and the sight of shopkeepers grinning like Cheshire cats, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting customers. Yes, it was that time of year again—the great Indian festive season, where every man, woman, and child seemed to transform into a walking, talking cash register, emitting jingles rather than coins.

In this grand carnival of consumption, our protagonist, Mr. Shyamlal Gupta, found himself caught in the whirlwind. A simple clerk by profession, Shyamlal was no stranger to the annual ritual of emptying his pockets to celebrate the festival of lights, but this year, the intensity of the festival-induced madness reached new heights. “Why should I let my neighbors outshine me with their extravagant displays of wealth?” he mused, as he glanced at the impressive new car parked outside his affluent neighbor’s house, which incidentally had replaced the old one—a mere month old, as if it were a seasonal item.

“Lights, gifts, sweets—this year, I shall become a symbol of prosperity!” Shyamlal declared, his voice brimming with optimism. With this newfound ambition, he set off into the chaos of the marketplace, armed with a list of purchases that would make even the most seasoned shopaholic raise an eyebrow. As he maneuvered through the throngs of shoppers, he was greeted by the usual cacophony of vendors shouting at the top of their lungs, urging customers to buy the “latest” in festive attire, which bore an uncanny resemblance to last year’s collection—albeit with a few sequins strategically placed to justify the inflated price tag.

“Ah, Mr. Gupta! Looking to dazzle the neighborhood this festive season?” chirped a shopkeeper, his eyes gleaming with the promise of a sale.

“Yes, yes! I need the best!” Shyamlal responded, puffing out his chest as if he were entering a beauty pageant rather than a clothing store.

With each purchase—saris, sweets, new earthen lamps, and an elaborate assortment of plastic decorations—Shyamlal felt a mixture of exhilaration and dread. He knew deep down that he was falling prey to the age-old trap of festive consumerism, but the thought of being outdone by Mrs. Sharma, his neighbor, who had already set up an extravagant light display, sent shivers down his spine.

By the time Shyamlal returned home, bags in hand, he felt like a victorious warrior, albeit one who had been utterly defeated in the realm of finances. His wife, Mrs. Gupta, looked at the mountain of purchases with a mix of awe and disbelief. “Darling, have you considered that perhaps we don’t need to spend so much just to keep up appearances?”

“Of course, we do!” he retorted, feigning bravado. “What will people say if we don’t compete with the Sharmas? This is about our reputation!”

Thus, the stage was set for a festival of embarrassment and regret. With lights adorning every corner of their modest abode, Shyamlal soon discovered that the electricity bill would likely be the true testament to his festive zeal. The entire neighborhood had transformed into a veritable competition of illumination; the Sharmas had installed an entire light show that could only be likened to a mini New Year’s Eve in Times Square.

As the festival day approached, Shyamlal’s desperation reached its zenith. With each new advertisement he encountered, promising the latest gadgets and gizmos—none of which he truly needed—he felt an insatiable itch to spend more. “What if I don’t buy a new smartphone? How will people know I am technologically advanced?” he fretted.

The festive season climaxed in a chaotic whirlwind of parties, where Shyamlal found himself perpetually trapped in a cycle of forced hospitality and obligatory gifting. Each neighbor’s extravagant gift demanded an equal or greater response, leaving Shyamlal in a state of perpetual anxiety and indebtedness.

At a particularly lavish gathering, while sipping a drink that tasted suspiciously like sugar water, Shyamlal overheard Mrs. Sharma boasting about her “cutting-edge” air fryer. “It can fry anything! Even your financial sense!” he thought bitterly, glancing at his own hand-me-down cooking appliances, now obsolete in the face of his neighbor’s culinary technology.

“Ah, Shyamlal, you must come over to try my new air fryer!” Mrs. Sharma called, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You simply must—everyone is raving about it!”

“Yes, I’ll bring you something special from my collection of antique spoons!” he countered with a forced smile, realizing he had nothing of value to offer but his growing sense of financial doom.

The festive season marched on, and so did Shyamlal’s desperation. With every extravagant gathering came the crippling realization that he had spent more than he earned, and the once joyous spirit of celebration had turned into a grim parade of credit card bills and the haunting specter of unpaid loans.

As the last festival day drew to a close, Shyamlal sat down with a heavy heart, surrounded by the remnants of his ill-advised purchases. The lights dimmed, the sweets had dwindled, and all that remained was the bitter taste of his financial folly. He pondered the irony of a festival meant to celebrate abundance leaving him in the throes of scarcity.

In that moment of clarity, Shyamlal made a decision. Next year, he would break the cycle of festive season loot. He would embrace minimalism, resist the siren call of extravagant consumerism, and perhaps even encourage his neighbors to do the same. After all, as he gazed at the empty wrappers and fading lights, he realized that true celebration lay not in material possessions but in the spirit of togetherness, not in competition but in camaraderie.

But that was next year’s resolution. For now, as he buried his head in his hands, he could only lament the fleeting joy of a festive season turned farcical—a cycle he had unwittingly perpetuated, one plastic decoration at a time.

*

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Contact : Mo. +91 73 8657 8657, Email : [email protected]

Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra, known for his wit and wisdom, is a prolific writer, renowned satirist, children’s literature author, and poet. He has undertaken the monumental task of writing, editing, and coordinating a total of 55 books for the Telangana government at the primary school, college, and university levels. His editorial endeavors also include online editions of works by Acharya Ramchandra Shukla.

As a celebrated satirist, Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra has carved a niche for himself, with over eight million viewers, readers, and listeners tuning in to his literary musings on the demise of a teacher on the Sahitya AajTak channel. His contributions have earned him prestigious accolades such as the Telangana Hindi Academy’s Shreshtha Navyuva Rachnakaar Samman in 2021, presented by the honorable Chief Minister of Telangana, Mr. Chandrashekhar Rao. He has also been honored with the Vyangya Yatra Ravindranath Tyagi Stairway Award and the Sahitya Srijan Samman, alongside recognition from Prime Minister Narendra Modi and various other esteemed institutions.

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra’s journey is not merely one of literary accomplishments but also a testament to his unwavering dedication, creativity, and profound impact on society. His story inspires us to strive for excellence, to use our talents for the betterment of others, and to leave an indelible mark on the world. Today we present his Satire He Was Gone. 

☆ Witful Warmth # 22 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ He Was Gone ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

The reader’s lifeless body lay sprawled on a sofa, his phone placed before him, pinging and ponging relentlessly. Around him echoed the noise of his friends— “What happened?” “Why are you sleeping?” and “Yet another book left unfinished!” Someone, in sheer frustration, had even unfollowed him.

The reader, once a most ardent user of social media, was now utterly oblivious to the world. The writer, who had long been chasing recognition and esteem, stood amongst the shattered promises of unread pages. His thoughts drifted back to that reader—who once engaged in earnest, thoughtful discussions on his works. But now, that same reader had been swallowed whole by the vast abyss of ‘likes’ and ‘shares.’

Memories of the reader lay scattered across his room—books that had once formed the very foundation of his intellect now gathered dust, neglected and forgotten. For the writer, it was a dirge for his beloved reader, though those around seemed only interested in the final status update he had posted.

During the funeral procession, the writer received a deluge of messages: “A great lover of books has left us!” and “Is there any way to pay tribute with a retweet?” The writer was at a loss—was this man even a person anymore, or had he become merely a digital identity?

The mourners stared solemnly, yet the incessant notifications lighting up their phones lent an oddly comic lightness to the proceedings.

As the final rites were performed, the writer recalled the days when the reader had devoured books with genuine passion. Now, he was lost among the masses of people who hastily ‘react’ and ‘comment’ without thought or care.

In the end, when the reader was consigned to the flames, a single tear slid down the writer’s cheek. He wondered aloud, “Perhaps in the world of books, someone might bring him back.” But could the land of retweets ever restore such a true reader to his former glory?

Someone had said it best: “These days, books are sold, while followers on social media never seem to dwindle!”

*

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Contact : Mo. +91 73 8657 8657, Email : [email protected]

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra, known for his wit and wisdom, is a prolific writer, renowned satirist, children’s literature author, and poet. He has undertaken the monumental task of writing, editing, and coordinating a total of 55 books for the Telangana government at the primary school, college, and university levels. His editorial endeavors also include online editions of works by Acharya Ramchandra Shukla.

As a celebrated satirist, Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra has carved a niche for himself, with over eight million viewers, readers, and listeners tuning in to his literary musings on the demise of a teacher on the Sahitya AajTak channel. His contributions have earned him prestigious accolades such as the Telangana Hindi Academy’s Shreshtha Navyuva Rachnakaar Samman in 2021, presented by the honorable Chief Minister of Telangana, Mr. Chandrashekhar Rao. He has also been honored with the Vyangya Yatra Ravindranath Tyagi Stairway Award and the Sahitya Srijan Samman, alongside recognition from Prime Minister Narendra Modi and various other esteemed institutions.

Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra’s journey is not merely one of literary accomplishments but also a testament to his unwavering dedication, creativity, and profound impact on society. His story inspires us to strive for excellence, to use our talents for the betterment of others, and to leave an indelible mark on the world. Today we present his Satire The Great Pension Dilemma. 

☆ Witful Warmth # 21 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ The Great Pension Dilemma ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

As the clock strikes sixty, many find themselves at a crossroads, armed with nothing but the promise of a pension. In an age where “working hard” is often accompanied by the phrase “for a secure future,” retirees are left grappling with the irony of having spent their golden years to save for a retirement that’s as elusive as the Loch Ness Monster.

The Golden Ticket

Imagine, if you will, a retiree named Mr. Singh. After decades of dutifully clocking in and out, he anticipates his pension with the glee of a child awaiting a birthday gift. But alas, upon his retirement, he is met not with a confetti parade, but with a bureaucratic obstacle course more complicated than a season of reality television.

“Congratulations! You’ve earned this,” the retirement office proclaims, handing him a pamphlet that could rival the length of a Tolstoy novel. It details forms, approvals, and a labyrinthine process to finally access his pension—a veritable quest worthy of Indiana Jones. Mr. Singh, holding his pamphlet like a treasure map, realizes he must first navigate the Valley of the Lost Documents and the Forest of Unanswered Questions.

The Wait Game

Weeks turn into months, and Mr. Singh finds himself in a Kafkaesque situation, waiting for approval from a committee that seems to have taken a vow of silence. In the meantime, his savings dwindle faster than a popsicle on a summer day. “Isn’t retirement supposed to be relaxing?” he wonders, as he tries to piece together a meal from expired cans in his pantry.

Meanwhile, other retirees gather at the local park, sharing stories of their pension pursuits like war veterans recounting their greatest battles. “I waited three years for mine!” exclaims Mrs. Patel, proudly waving her rejection letters like badges of honor. The group laughs, but there’s a bittersweet edge to their camaraderie, as they all know the truth: retirement is a minefield.

The Pension Puzzle

In the modern age of technology, one would think that pension disbursement would be as simple as clicking “buy” on an online shopping site. Yet, the process is akin to deciphering an ancient script. “Have you tried the app?” asks a well-meaning friend, only to find that the app is less user-friendly than a cat during a bath.

“Oh, and don’t forget to use your ‘unique identifier’!” they chime, but Mr. Singh isn’t sure if that means his birth date, his first pet’s name, or perhaps his favorite flavor of ice cream. It’s as if the pension system is a club, and the entrance fee is a knowledge of obscure passwords and cryptic instructions.

The Economic Conundrum

To add fuel to the fire, there’s the question of inflation—a term that sounds more like a magic trick than an economic principle. Just as Mr. Singh finally figures out how to access his pension, he realizes that the purchasing power of his hard-earned savings has evaporated. The monthly stipend is now barely enough for a cup of coffee and a day’s worth of Wi-Fi, which, as we all know, is the true currency of modern life.

“You’re telling me I worked for forty years to enjoy a life that’s just below the poverty line?” he scoffs, raising his voice in disbelief. The irony isn’t lost on him; after all, he spent decades paying into a system designed to ensure his comfort in old age. Instead, he feels like a contestant on a game show where the prize is disappointment.

The Bureaucratic Ballet

Let’s not forget the charming interactions with customer service, where every call feels like a Shakespearean play. “Thank you for holding! Your call is very important to us,” says a voice with all the warmth of a frozen dinner. After what feels like a lifetime, he finally reaches a representative who, despite their cheery disposition, speaks in a language that sounds suspiciously like “corporate jargon.”

“Sir, your request is in the queue,” they say, as if it were the next episode of a binge-worthy series. “We’re experiencing higher than normal delays due to, well, you know… everything.” Mr. Singh, in disbelief, hangs up, realizing that “everything” is an all-encompassing excuse that justifies the state of the pension system.

The Comedy

As the months drag on, Mr. Singh’s initial enthusiasm has morphed into a resigned acceptance. “Well, at least I’m not alone,” he thinks, glancing at his fellow retirees, all united in their quest for a system that seems to favor the young and the agile, leaving the elderly feeling like the forgotten characters in a long-lost play.

Eventually, Mr. Singh receives a letter announcing the approval of his pension, but it’s accompanied by the faint scent of irony. His first check arrives just in time for him to finally treat himself to that long-awaited vacation—a trip to the local grocery store where he can finally afford more than just instant noodles.

And so, the saga of pensions continues, a never-ending ballet of bureaucracy and hope, where the only certainty is uncertainty. In the end, Mr. Singh might not have found the paradise he envisioned, but he has a good story to share with his friends at the park—a testament to their shared struggle, proving that even in the face of absurdity, laughter is the best pension of all.

*

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Contact : Mo. +91 73 8657 8657, Email : [email protected]