Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’
Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra, widely known in the world of satire by his pen name ‘Uratipt’, expresses his emotions and thoughts with profound honesty and depth. His multifaceted talent is evident in his contributions across various literary genres. He is not only a renowned satirist but also a poet and a children’s author.
His satirical writings have earned him a special place in the literary world. His satire, ‘Shikshak Ki Mout’, went massively viral on the Sahitya Aajtak channel, garnering over a million views and reads—a monumental achievement in the history of Hindi satire. His collection of satires, ‘Ek Tinka Ikyavan Aankhen’ (A Straw and Fifty-One Eyes), is also highly acclaimed and includes his timeless work, ‘Kitabon Ki Antim Yatra’ (The Last Journey of Books). Other celebrated collections include ‘Mayaan Ek, Talwar Anek’ (One Sheath, Many Swords), ‘Gapodi Adda’ (The Gossiper’s Den), and ‘Sab Rang Mein Mere Rang’ (My Colors in Every Hue). His satirical novel, ‘Idhar-Udhar Ke Beech Mein’ (In Between Here and There), is a unique and groundbreaking work focused on the third world.
His significant contributions to literature have been widely recognized. He was honored with the Best Young Creator Award, 2021 by the Telangana Hindi Academy and the Government of Telangana, an award presented by Chief Minister K. Chandrasekhar Rao. The Rajasthan Children’s Literature Academy also honored him for his children’s book, ‘Nanhon Ka Srijan Aasmaan’ (The Creative Sky of Little Ones). Additionally, he has received the Vyanga Yatra Ravindranath Tyagi Sopaan Samman and the Sahitya Srijan Samman from Prime Minister Narendra Modi.
Dr. Uratript has also played a pivotal role in writing, editing, and coordinating a total of 55 books for the Government of Telangana for primary school, college, and university levels. His work is included in university textbooks in Bihar, Chhattisgarh, and Telangana, where his satirical creations are part of the curriculum. This recognition underscores that young readers can identify and appreciate quality and impactful writing.
Key Accolades and Works
- Viral Satire: ‘Teacher’s Death’ (over 1 million views)
- Satire Collections: ‘Ek Tinka Ikyavan Aankhen’, ‘Mayaan Ek, Talwar Anek’, ‘Gapodi Adda’
- Unique Satirical Novel: ‘Idhar-Udar Ke Beech Mein’
- Awards: Shreshtha Navyuva Samman (Telangana), Sahitya Srijan Samman (PM Modi), and more.
- Educational Contribution: Authored and edited 55 books for the Telangana government.
Some precious moments of life
- Honoured with ‘Shrestha Navayuvva Rachnakar Samman’ by former Chief Minister of Telangana Government, Shri K. Chandrasekhar Rao.
- Honoured with Oscar, Grammy, Jnanpith, Sahitya Akademi, Dadasaheb Phalke, Padma Bhushan and many other awards by the most revered Gulzar sahab (Sampurn Singh Kalra), the lighthouse of the world of literature and cinema, during the Sahitya Suman Samman held in Mumbai.
- Meeting the famous litterateur Shri Vinod Kumar Shukla Ji, honoured with Jnanpith Award.
- Got the privilege of meeting Mr. Perfectionist of Bollywood, actor Aamir Khan.
- Meeting the powerful actor Vicky Kaushal on the occasion of being honoured by Vishva Katha Rangmanch.
Today we present his satire Right to Information.
☆ Witful Warmth# 123 ☆
☆ Satire ☆ Right to Information… ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆
On the grilled window of the main veranda of the town’s oldest State Chief Information Commissioner’s office, an old, tarnished brass bell had been hanging by a rough hemp rope for the last twenty years. The iron clapper inside had been removed long ago. The bell was once used to announce a hearing’s turn in the office, but the luster had faded completely under layers of dampness and dust, leaving it swinging soundlessly between the rusted bars of the window.
Right beneath the window, on a cracked cement platform, Dharamdas Kaka would arrive every morning at the strike of seven, leaning on his old tamarind walking stick. Dressed in a torn white khadi kurta with a soiled towel slung over his shoulder, Kaka would spend the entire day gazing fixedly at that mute bell with his clouded eyes.
From early morning, gleaming cars carrying high-ranking officials, lawyers, and politicians were pulling into the building complex to showcase modern transparency portals, digital complaint boxes, and high-tech surveillance systems. Boastful speeches pledging citizen rights and the triumph of truth echoed over the loudspeakers from the dais. Those modern spokespersons and suit-clad officers had nothing to do with the voiceless brass bell hanging in the corner of the window.
Whenever Mangru, the office’s veteran peon, passed by with a bundle of files in his hands, he would shudder at the sight of Kaka’s serene, motionless figure. In a trembling, feeble voice, Kaka would ask him, “Tell me, Mangru, in this grand carnival of the Right to Information, did any hope arise for the sound of truth to ring out from this mute bell? Or are they still merely distributing speech slips from the stage today?” Mangru would simply cast his eyes down, take a deep, quiet breath, and walk away in silence.
The newly appointed Chief Information Commissioner, Animesh Agnihotri—recently transferred from the Administrative Reforms Secretariat in the capital—was reputed to be a strict officer, an expert in modern digital tracking, and a firm believer in administrative discipline. Whenever Agnihotri stepped out of his shining official car to inspect the new online portal room, his gaze would invariably land on Dharamdas Kaka, who sat on the ledge with eyes fixed on the old hanging bell.
To Agnihotri, an impoverished old man sitting everyday before a useless bell with folded hands during such a grand government celebration of International Right to Know Day seemed regressive and disruptive to institutional discipline. When the inaugural session concluded and the VIPs moved into the air-conditioned lounge to partake in refreshments, Agnihotri left his security guards behind and walked straight up to Dharamdas Kaka.
In an imposing tone laced with sharp impatience, Agnihotri asked, “Kaka, why do you come and sit across the main walkway every day at this age? If you want to check the status of an RTI application or an appeal for an old-age pension, go inside to the counter and fill out a form. Sitting out here staring at a broken bell dangling from a window isn’t going to pull the truth out of this nation’s government files.”
Dharamdas Kaka joined his hands with profound dignity and replied in a quavering voice, “Commissioner Sahib, I am not sitting here for certified paper copies or alms of a pension. I am simply awaiting the day when the lost truth returns to this bell—the truth that was stolen from me right on this threshold years ago.”
Puzzled by this philosophical riddle, Agnihotri asked, “What lost truth are you speaking of, Kaka? The government releases a budget of crores every year on Right to Information Day to grant the public access to every file. What is the mystery behind this old brass bell?”
Pandit Someshwar, a retired senior clerk standing nearby who had witnessed every verdict and appeal in the commission over the past forty years, stepped forward and said, “Commissioner Sahib, please do not dismiss Kaka’s words as madness. Twenty years ago, when the RTI Act was first introduced in this town and government files were set ablaze to conceal the theft of rations meant for the poor, Kaka’s only son, Satyaprakash, stood right here in this courtyard and lit the brightest torch for the right to know the truth.”
Intrigued, Agnihotri asked, “What did Satyaprakash do that ties his memory to this brass bell?”
Pandit Someshwar took a deep breath and recounted, “Sahib, back then, Satyaprakash was the bravest, most upright youth and RTI activist in the entire district. When the ration mafia and corrupt contractors sat coiled like serpents over the rights of the poor, Satyaprakash tied this very bell to the window and took a vow: whenever a poor person’s file was suppressed, he would ring it to wake the entire town. He secured justice for hundreds of starving families and proclaimed that he would never bow to a corrupt system until the very last file in this office was as clear as glass.”
Carrying Someshwar’s words forward, Dharamdas Kaka touched the rough rope of the bell with trembling fingers and said in an anguished voice, “Yes, Sahib. My Satyaprakash stood on this platform that day and told me, ‘Father, this bell is not just a piece of brass; it is the voice of truth.’ He promised that the day he returned from Delhi with the highest public-interest order from the Central Transparency Commission, he would personally fit a new clapper into this bell and honor me as the chief guest on the nation’s biggest stage.”
A deep curiosity stirred within Agnihotri. He immediately headed to the archives to unearth that twenty-year-old RTI file.
As he turned to the final pages of the confidential record, the ground slipped beneath his feet. The file laid bare that two decades ago, when Satyaprakash blew the whistle on government scams worth crores, the country’s most powerful mining and real estate syndicate bought him out to crush the movement. They made him the Managing Director of their multinational corporate PR agency and handed him a twenty-five percent covert stake. Setting aside his ideals and the promise of that bell, Satyaprakash signed the orders burying those investigations. Armed with that illicit wealth, he turned into the country’s most formidable PR power broker, running lucrative contracts to sanitize the black deeds of governments and industrialists.
Shaken, Agnihotri walked back out. In a choked voice, he broke the truth to the old man: Satyaprakash was not a hero, but a merchant who traded away the truth.
Tears welled in Kaka’s eyes as he wept softly: “Sahib, I knew all along that my son had sold out. I only come here every day to see whether this deaf society can smell the stench rising from the shroud of a corrupted truth—especially when the very people preaching transparency from the stage have silenced their roots and their own father’s voice, locking it away in dark files.”
Numb with shock, Agnihotri stood staring at the mute bell, while the entire transparency headquarters stood silenced and disgraced in the grief of a helpless father’s tears.
****
© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’
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≈ Blog Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈
