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 Just Another Sunday.
☆ Witful Warmth # 9 ☆
☆ Satire ☆ Just Another Sunday ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆
It was yet another Sunday morning, and the clock had barely struck eight. Mr. Sharma, a mid-level manager with a belly more notable than his job title, and Mrs. Sharma, a seasoned school teacher who dealt with pre-teens and their tantrums all week, were facing the ultimate challenge – the cluttered battleground they called home.
With his overgrown spectacles perched atop his nose and a cup of ginger tea in hand, Mr. Sharma sighed deeply, “Honey, do you see how messy our house looks? But what can we do? We are ‘financially enslaved’.” Mrs. Sharma nodded in agreement as if the couch itself was the throne of their kingdom trashed.
Sitting on a half-broken chair they never managed to fix, Mr. Sharma declared, “Our house is as inviting as a landfill. Every day, our own belongings greet us like long-lost relatives wanting to stay indefinitely.”
Adding to the ambience, the dusty dressing table stood like a relic from a haunted mansion. “We practically live as guests in our own Airbnb home,” groaned Mr. Sharma. Mrs. Sharma’s silence was accentuated by the loud banging of her morning utensils, showcasing her agreement without uttering a word.
A moment of enlightenment occurred. “Next Sunday, we shall clean the house!” declared Mr. Sharma, as if rallying troops for the final battle. A grand list was created, listing out their ‘warrior tasks.’ Mr. Sharma allocated himself the task of tidying the tea table and organizing the newspapers, while Mrs. Sharma was given the kitchen, the dressing table, and the storeroom. Oh, the modern-day Hercules and his relentless Hydra!
“Wake up on time, have toast and tea quickly, and then jump into action. You’ll get a second cup of tea and some biscuits only after you finish half the work,” ordered Mrs. Sharma, invoking the spirit of a taskmaster.
Sunday dawned with the alarm’s shrill cry. Mr. Sharma, immediately rising, gave a smug look to the sleeping Mrs. Sharma. An attempt to awaken the sleeping dragon was met with growls, so he let her be and took upon himself to make the morning tea – an act that involved more spilling than filling.
As he prepared to dive into the perilous pile of newspapers, his eyes caught a glimpse of their wedding album beneath the table. “Hey, look what I found! It’s like finding the elixir of life!” he exclaimed, like an archaeologist discovering a mummy. His enthusiasm was enough to bring Mrs. Sharma to his side, and time flew by as they lost themselves in the sepia-tinted nostalgia.
When reality hit and bellies rumbled, they broke the trance with baingan bharta and jowar roti, crafted with love by Mrs. Sharma.
Tasks remained unfinished, and Sunday slipped away, making way for the relentless Monday. As dawn broke, Mr. Sharma, with a hot cup of tea in hand, approached Mrs. Sharma standing gloomily on the balcony. “What’s wrong, my queen?” he asked with a mix of mockery and concern.
“Today again, all chores remain incomplete!” she lamented. Mr. Sharma chuckled, “No worries, there’s always another Sunday!”
“True, my irreplaceable partner. But this routine is as immutable as your potbelly,” replied Mrs. Sharma, casting a half-hearted smile. The pitiless wheel of weekdays began turning again, engulfing them in its relentless grind.
And so, time continued its indifferent journey. The Sharmas, forever stuck in their Sisyphean task, never managed to completely clean their home. Each Sunday, they remained entangled in their self-created labyrinth of aspirations, witnessing the same futile routine, over and over, till they were both too worn out to care. The house remained a silent testament to their unfulfilled promises – a never-ending satire of their lives.
© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’
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≈ Blog Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈
