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 Pain of Books.
☆ Satire ☆ The Pain of Books ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆
Tattered, old, dusty—these are the names I’ve been reduced to. When I first arrived at the launch venue of an author’s book, I was greeted with such affection. Sometimes they’d stroke me with their fingers, sometimes they’d flip my pages with the gentleness of a sneeze. But that’s all in the past now. I used to grace their hallways for a few days. However, since space was limited in the glass cabinet in the hall, I didn’t get to stay there for long. Soon, I was pushed out. For a few days, I made my home on various tables in the house. Since I had a thick cover, I could handle a lot of work. For instance, the author or his wife, children would often rest their teacups, coffee mugs, or milk glasses on my back. This left circular marks all over me. Whether I was useful for reading or not, only the author could tell, but I was definitely skilled at swatting mosquitoes, flies, and bugs. The marks of those insect bites all over my body testified to that. Several times, when someone came to buy scraps, the author’s wife would try to sell me. She was the author, who would glance at me once or twice, turn me over, and then put me back in the storeroom.
This tale of woe is not exclusive to just one book like me. Often, we would all chat amongst ourselves. We’d lament about our misfortune—why we couldn’t find a place in the glass cabinet. One day, the thin, worn-out book lying in the storeroom, on the verge of its last breath, revealed, “One day, while the author was talking to someone, they asked, ‘You bring so many books from book launches, where do you keep them? How will this glass cabinet handle your expertise?’ So, with a smile, the author replied, ‘You’re absolutely right. Now, see, wherever I go, someone hands me a book. Someone keeps it as a sample or for writing a review. Now, what can I tell anyone? Therefore, I bring all the books. Mrs. is fed up with me bringing them home. Due to these books, our house has started to look like a junkyard. Since not all books can be kept in the glass cabinet, I’ve adopted a middle way. Apart from useful dictionaries and books written by me, all the remaining books are stored in the storeroom (thrown away). When needed, I rummage around and take them out.'” Listening to this, the arrogance of all the books in the storeroom was shattered. We were in shock. We thought the author loved us. It turns out, he was only reluctantly putting up with us.
One day, there was a mobile phone of author between us. We asked him if he had also become useless, and he replied, “How can I be useless? The author loves me more than his wife and children. The more time he spends on me, the less time he gives to anyone else. The author’s daughter has hidden me here to tease him. Otherwise, you’re so worthless that you can’t compare to me. One more thing, nowadays, he makes me do all the reading and writing work. Earlier, whenever he forgot, he’d understand my need and place me in the storeroom. Not anymore. Just a while ago, his daughter was telling him off for me. He must be on the way. Now, you have no work in this storeroom. You all have a holiday from today.”
This was too much to handle. Our hearts sank. We were very scared of the scrap dealer. In our eyes, he was no less than a butcher. Just like a butcher slits an animal’s throat and cuts its limbs, the scrap dealer will buy us wholesale and treat us the same way. Since this is our final journey, we only pray to God to make us into something in the next life, but not a book—never again.
© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’
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