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 🙏🏻🕉️
☆ 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.”
(Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi—an ex Naval Officer, possesses a multifaceted personality. He served as Senior Advisor in prestigious Supercomputer organisation C-DAC, Pune. An alumnus of IIM Ahmedabad was involved in various Artificial Intelligence and High-Performance Computing projects of national and international repute. He has got a long experience in the field of ‘Natural Language Processing’, especially, in the domain of Machine Translation. He has taken the mantle of translating the timeless beauties of Indian literature upon himself so that it reaches across the globe. He has also undertaken translation work for Shri Narendra Modi, the Hon’ble Prime Minister of India, which was highly appreciated by him. He is also a member of ‘Bombay Film Writer Association’.)
We Congratulate Capt. Pravin Raghuvanshi ji who has been appointed as a reviewer for the literary work published by the international poets and littérateurs… It’s a great opportunity to express views on their scintillating literary work. Capt. Pravin Raghuvanshi ji thanked President and his fellow colleagues of Global Writers Academy for this unique honour…!
Ms Leena Thampi whose imposing poem, ‘Encounter with Soul’, is truly एन्थ्राललिंग..। He humbly attempted to deep-dive into her composition to fetch some pearls of wisdom… though unraveling her poetic verses is certainly not a mean task…yet this chutzpah…!
☆ ~ Ms Leena Thampi’s Poem: Encounter with my soul~ ☆
☆
Everything stops for a while
When she’s gone
The sun hides, the birds stop singing
the flowers refuse to bloom,
Trees become still, the clouds don’t care anymore, forget the rains
Nothing breathes and all of life
Turns a dull grey…
Then she returns
And everything falls in place
In whispers soft and sweet, a dance with words and thoughts,
In solitude I meet the lyrics of old songs
A symphony of emotions, in silence, I express,
For in my quietude, I find my soul’s caress.
The shadows of my mind, Unravel in this space,
A canvas of my heart, Where colors fill my grace.
I converse in my solitude, With the echoes of my soul,
A journey through the labyrinth, Of thoughts, I fearlessly control.
In every word, a story,in every breath, a verse,
I converse in my solitude,
As a poet, I confess.
In quiet chambers of my mind,
A dialogue with self,I cherish
Questions arise, answers sought, flow peacefully in this journey of thought.
Reflecting on the path I’ve trod, the choices made, the lessons taught. Emotions stir, a symphony within,
A fountain of joy and sorrow,a subtle kin.
In the mirror of introspection, I see my reflection.
The light and the dark, the highs and lows,
A spectrum of colors, in life’s ebbs and flows.
Valleys ,mountains ,beauty unexplored
You take me through euphoria manifold
This conversation with the self, so deep,
Unveils the mysteries, the secrets to keep.
A journey of growth, of self-discovery,
A path that leads to wisdom, and a heart so free.
It’s where I meet myself
Who could I love more than thee?
~ Leena Thampi
Review:
ENCOUNTER WITH MY SOUL is a beautiful poem by equally beautiful poetess Leena Thampi, where her resplendent beauty reflects in her enigmatic journey in a scintillating poetic form. The flight that she undertakes with her amazing indomitable wings into myriad shades of life…while wandering around the rapturous environment, in the symphony of emotional melodies… oscillating between the crests and troughs of sombreness and exultation…
It’s her blissful interaction with the soul that defines her swing of moods…as she recalls about somberness: “…everything stops for a while when she’s gone…” Takes it further as she sums up:
“Nothing breathes at all and all of life turns into dull grey…!”
But on her return, everything becomes exuberant…as she dances in the whispers of tender sweet words and lovelorn thoughts…
She enjoys her solitude as she dives deep into the reclusive privateness, where the symphony of spirited sentiments, plays ceaselessly…
Finally, she finds her soul’s embrace in her quietude. The shadow of her mind, unravels the canvas of her heart, where myriad rainbowish hues fill her inner self…as she converses with her solitude, with resonating echoes of her enchanting soul.
This deep interaction with the self, unfolds many mysteries, scripting the odyssey of her growth and wisdom, which in turn sets the heart free, where she finds her ultimate love…!
Leena has created a masterpiece which is more of a volcanic eruption of the heart than a willful composition…!
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 Duggal Sahab’s Dripping Art.
Duggal Sahab is known as the “Construction King” of our neighborhood. People say that the things he builds are a symbol of stability. However, his definition of stability is a bit different; everything he builds has a delicate lifespan. Duggal Sahab’s famous dialogue is, “Building roads or buildings is an art, and I am an artist!” And it is no secret that his art is very diverse. One day, a new road was supposed to be built in the neighborhood. Duggal Sahab got the contract and proudly said, “This road will be built in such a way that it will shine even in the moonlight.” People thought that maybe a new technology would be used this time. But when the road was built and ready, its shine was indeed visible. But that shine came from scattered rocks and potholes on the road. People thought, “Maybe these are just initial problems and they will be fixed in a few days.” However, the magic of Duggal Sahab’s art was something else. Before the rain even started pouring, the road revealed its real form. A part of the road was washed away by the water, and the other part started dripping like a roof in the rain. People started crossing the road with umbrellas. As for the buildings, Duggal Sahab’s buildings were also amazing. Once he built apartments in a new society. Each apartment was guaranteed ‘luxury’ and ‘comfort’. People shifted there with high hopes. In a few days, people noticed that water was dripping from the roofs of their rooms. Someone said, “Oh, this is a natural waterfall, Duggal Sahab made it a part of art too!” When people complained, Duggal Sahab calmly said, “See, this is natural ventilation. When water drips, you will get natural coolness.” People were amazed by his words. Some local politicians who were building alliances to praise Duggal Sahab’s art also. They inaugurated one of Duggal Sahab’s buildings and said, “This building is the pride of our area.” Just a few days later, that building started dripping in such a way that the politician had to come out wet. He immediately called Duggal Sahab and said, “What is happening?” Duggal Sahab innocently said, “This is ‘Modern Art’, sir. There is no flaw in it, it’s just a matter of your perspective.” The politician said, “The perspective is fine, but why is the water dripping?” Duggal Sahab replied, “Oh, sir, this is the science of water flow. Water makes its own way.” Eventually, people got frustrated and started protesting against Duggal Sahab. They complained, appealed to the government, but all in vain. Duggal Sahab’s grip was so strong that no one could do anything. One day, Duggal Sahab himself inaugurated his new house. That house was the best example of his art. Friends, family, and important people were invited. As soon as the inauguration was done, people entered the house. Tea and snacks were served, and then it started raining. Duggal Sahab was surprised to see the water dripping from the roof of his own house. He couldn’t understand how this could happen. People started laughing there, and Duggal Sahab couldn’t figure out what was happening. After this incident, people started making fun of Duggal Sahab. They said, “Duggal Sahab, if you couldn’t even build the roof of your own house, what can we say to others?” Duggal Sahab was saddened by this. He repaired his house, but after a few days, the same problem came up again. Finally, Duggal Sahab quit the construction work and started living in seclusion. People kept telling stories about his art, but now he had become a subject of comedy. One day, Duggal Sahab passed away. His last words were, “I didn’t leave any flaws in my art, maybe people didn’t understand my art.”
(We present an article ‘Reminiscences of Kargil war…’ written by Shri Ajeet Singh ji, Ex-Director (News), Doordarshan.)
☆ Reminiscences of Kargil war… ☆ Shri Ajeet Singh ☆
As the nation celebrates the silver Jubilee of the victory in Kargil war of 1999, I am flooded with the memories of event that I covered for All India 25 years ago.
Kargil was largely a deserted town when I entered it for four days to report the war in the first week of July 1999.
527 Indian army men laid down their lives as they evicted the Pakistani intruders from the commanding heights of the Himalayan ranges.
I was part of an army conducted media party from Srinagar. The party comprising correspondents from major media networks had waited for over three weeks in Srinagar to get army permission to move into the battle field.
I was travelling in a van along the Film Division team. They had stocked sufficient quota of bread, butter, biscuits, and rice to cope with the situation of getting stranded in some cut off place in war zone.
I had a satellite phone too beside my tape recorder.
Crossing the 12000 feet high Zojila, our first halt was a Bofor Guns battery that was pounding the Pakistan army positions across the high hill to provide covering fire to our advancing troops there. That was quite a show for the visual media and the artillery unit obliged them abundantly. We were convinced about the efficacy of the gun that otherwise was mired into allegations of commission in its purchase from Sweden during a previous regime.
Shortly ahead was a briefing by senior army officers about the area and the position of Indian army. The Tololing ridge overlooking Drass town had been cleared of the intruders who comprised of Pakistan army soldiers and militants.
Some young officers were in high spirits as we talked to them during the lunch hour. I gathered that main focus at that time was on the Tiger Hill that stands tall behind Drass town. Flash lights of bombardment with guided missiles were visible as we crossed Drass taking a right turn towards Kargil town.
The narrow road runs along a river and some parts of it are in the firing range of Pakistani troops sitting on high hills on the Kaksar range.
A BSF man stopped our vehicles at a check post for some urgent precautions.
“You are in the firing range of the enemy. Keep a distance of about 100 meters between your vehicles. No lights during darkness. Drive fast and do not stop even if you are fired upon”.
The last instruction was quite chilling. We saw the wreckage of some vehicles down in the river and that heightened the fear.
By late evening we reached a hotel in Kargil. The town had faced daily artillery shelling from across the Line of Control.
The hotel was a three storied structure but all media persons wanted the first-floor rooms. By now they had learnt that the top floor could face a direct hit from an artillery shell and if the shell exploded in the hotel compound, its splinters could get into ground floor rooms.
DC Kargil too was functioning from a nearby hotel as his office was in the firing range.
Most people from Kargil town had been shifted to tents at a safe place some distance away on the Zanskar road. We visited them the next day to listen to their tales of woe. They had abandoned their animals as there was none to look after them in home steads.
Next day we were taken on to the road that leads to the Aryans inhabited five villages along the Indus river in the Batalik range . Aryans have features quite different from the majority Ladakhi people.
They support local flowers in their headgears except for the time when there is some mourning in their family.
They usually work as labourers for the Army.
It was an Aryan shepherd who first noticed the armed intruders and informed the Army. A reccy team from the army was ambushed by the Pakistani soldiers. All its members were brutally killed and their highly mutilated bodies were handed over to the Indian Army. This was in clear violation of the international norms.
We talked to the Aryan people who gave details of Pakistani intruders.
Back into the hotel next evening, the owner cum manager came to my room as I just finished filing my despatch to All India Radio newsroom in New Delhi over the satellite phone. He said he knew me through my frequent bylines in All India Radio news bulletins till about an year ago. I had functioned as AIR’s Senior Correspondent in Srinagar for over six years before being transferred to Delhi.
We got talking and I found in him an interesting person.
“Sir, this is not correct that Indian Army didn’t have information regarding Pakistani plans to intrude and capture positions on high hills the following spring. They had full details from their spying agents in Pakistan”.
I interrupted him saying how could he be so sure.
“Sir, a letter containing all details of the areas of intrusion was received in October of 1998. It was in Urdu and I was called to the Army Officers’ Mess to read its contents as they couldn’t read Urdu”, he elaborated. He sounded some convincing.
And at one point, he even started sobbing. I tried to console him.
“Sir, Pakistan is not an option for us, the Kargil people. We are Shias and we know what Shias are facing in Pakistan. We have to stay in India only. There is no other home for us.
“But the Indian army won’t be able to protect us”.
Why you feel like that? I asked.
“The evening, I went to read out the Urdu letter for the army, I witnessed something shocking. The Army officers were dancing with each other’s wives. Holding wives’ waists they were dancing and singing making a train like formation as school children would do. They were also drinking. They made me sit for over an hour outside the mess in cold weather. Do you think such people could save us? The officer who called me was also drunk. He might not have even properly listened to me as I read the letter”.
He was a bit agitated and somewhat desperate.
I told the matter in confidence to an army officer. He said, “Letters from the spies come every year as winter comes and we vacate the higher pickets. These are duly noticed but contents are found highly exaggerated or even totally baseless. Some of the spies are double agents. You never know if these letters were planted by Pakistan agencies in an effort to extend our resources. It is extremely difficult to man higher pickets during winters.
I didn’t report the story. I couldn’t. On the fourth day, as the press party headed back to Srinagar, the Army spokesman in New Delhi, Colonel Bikram Singh announced that the Tiger Hill had been recaptured. Col. Bikram Singh was to become the Chief of the Army Staff in due course of time. In between he had a stint in Anantnag as a Brigadier.
The saga of the recapture of the Tiger Hill was to unfold in weeks and months to come. Sepoy Sanjay Kumar was to be decorated with the highest gallantry award of Param Vir Chakra on the following Republic Day of 2020.
That is the history that would continue to be told every year every time anyone talks of how the Kargil war was won by brave Indian soldiers defeating the evil designs and machination of a devious enemy, defeated many times but still not giving up.
Shri Ajeet Singh is a freelance journalist based at Hisar in Haryana. He was All India Radio’s Correspondent in Jammu and Kashmir for over 19 years. He retired as Director of News, Doordarshan Hisar.
☆ The Real Journey of Founder & CEO of SGHS Publications ☆ Ms. Divya Trivedi ☆
Divya Trivedi is the Founder and CEO of SGSH Publications. She lives in the City of dreams Mumbai. She graduated in Bsc Chemistry in 2022. She received many awards and certificates in her childhood journey. She eventually started her writing journey on 9th November 2020. And she published her first book titled “The Beauty Of Quotes” on the 4th of April 2021. As a writer, Divya Trivedi was always curious about how publishing companies are printing and listing the books. Like the processes behind it, what makes a publication best, the processes of start-up, what kind of impact it creates in the writing community, etc.
She never thought of starting a publication house, but as we know hard work always pays off. First she was the co author in many publications, then she have compiled many books in other publications, then she worked as a project head and then she felt something is missing in the publishing industry. So After learning and getting to know everything one by one, she decided to start her publication, not for anything else but just to Spread Goodness Spread Happiness around the world through books. That’s why she started a publication named SGSH Publication. SGSH publication was started on 30th October 2021 founded by Miss Divya Trivedi. She worked really hard to establish a well-known publication with a good mission like SGSH but due to some problems she decided to handover the publication to other member and she wanted to start her own publication named as Satyamev Jayate Publication but some founder of other publications make her realise the hard work in SGSH Publications, so that time she continued but later she realised publication is a business and in business sometimes we have to be strict, we have to be bold, we have to say Truth. But with SGSH name she was uncomfortable working in publication so she decided to Change the SGSH Publication to Kitab Writing Publication on 4th of March 2023. Till now, she has published 1000+ solo books, 200+ anthologies and 10000+ books printed by her publication which is not possible without her constant and dedicated efforts from her side. Divya Trivedi aims no matter what always stay real and honest with customers. She wants to achieve this only with sincerity, honesty, and hard Work. She knows there are thousands of Publications, many even at top positions, but for Kitab Writing Publication she aims not just to provide publishing services but also she tries to provide writers Motivation and to Spread Truth. In the meantime 15th May, 2024 she have purchased one underrated publication Story Spinner Publication but that was her biggest lost.
Kitab Writing Publication grew well, 5 star rating on Google reviews, 99% Return ration but again the publication has to face this challenge and the challenge is for Trademark ™️ Registration Kitab Writing was very common name, and there was complications; so again she have started SGSH Publications. It’s not easy to start and close, close and start but her aim is right, maybe some decisions are wrong. She has learned many things. And as she was not from a commerce background so she is trying her best to serve the best.
Now SGSH Publications have fire in her work. She is going to make it big. No matter what Divya Trivedi will never give up.
Her biggest inspiration was people around her, who always inspired her and trusted her work. In SGSH Publications
She has been awarded multiple and prestigious titles mentioned below:
Best publication of the year 2022 from Incredible Indian Awards
National book of records
Fastest growing publication in 2023 from World wide book of records
Asia’s Top 100 Entrepreneur 2023
Indian archiver forum and many more Google articles, magazine.
She publishes books and anthologies. Her publication is unique because of her Honesty, Hard Work and consistent efforts. In her opinion, earning money from the business is a little easy but when she has authors coming to her again and approaching her to publish their write-ups with full happiness and satisfaction is what makes her unique. Each of her team members are very happy to work. More than a work and for money, they too are inspired by the mission of the publication and work for that. So not just the founder herself but every last member of her team is working for the same motto and writers are happy. She just sees this publication as the Best Publication in this world and also she sees herself as a Best Motivational Speaker for writers and Best Entrepreneur in the world. With her constant dedication she is going to reach the skies beyond the limit with flying colors. Her journey was a bit up and down, but setting up this publication is one of the best choices she has ever made.
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 Tale of Two Faces: A Desi Satire on Identity Deception.
☆ Witful Warmth#3 ☆
☆ Satire ☆ The Tale of Two Faces: A Desi Satire on Identity Deception ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆
In the bustling streets of Mumbai, where the neon signs flickered like promises yet unfulfilled, there lived a man of many guises. Known simply as Mr. Chalak, his true identity remained as elusive as the smog that hung over the city. Behind closed doors, he was a master of deceit, spinning intricate webs of lies with the finesse of a seasoned politician.
Amidst the chaos of honking horns and the aroma of street food, Mr. Chalak roamed, his features obscured by a carefully constructed facade. To the world, he was but a shadow, a silhouette against the backdrop of societal expectations and political ambitions.
Yet, beneath the layers of his counterfeit existence lay a heart yearning for connection, a soul tethered to the longing for belonging. For in the vibrant tapestry of Indian life, every facade hides a story waiting to be uncovered, a truth yearning to be revealed.
It was on a humid evening, as the monsoon rains lashed against the city streets, that Mr. Chalak sought refuge in the dimly lit confines of a roadside chai stall. With each sip of tea, he drowned his sorrows, his thoughts adrift in a sea of regret and longing. And it was there, amidst the aroma of spices and the clinking of cups, that fate intervened in the form of a curious stranger.
“Namaste, bhai,” the stranger greeted, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Might I inquire as to the nature of your troubles?”
Mr. Chalak regarded the stranger with cautious intrigue, his eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath their hardened exterior. And so, in the flickering candlelight, he poured forth his tale of deception, his words echoing like echoes in the crowded streets.
“I am but a man of many masks, a chameleon in a world of colors,” he confessed, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “For years, I have hidden my true self, weaving a tangled web of lies to conceal the emptiness within.”
The stranger listened intently, his gaze unwavering as he absorbed every syllable of Mr. Chalak’s confession. And as the night wore on, a bond forged in the crucible of shared sorrow began to blossom between the two men, bridging the chasm of deception that had divided them.
“You are not alone, mere bhai,” the stranger reassured, his words a balm to Mr. Chalak’s wounded soul. “For we are all but actors on the stage of life, our identities as transient as the changing seasons.”
And so, in that moment of shared vulnerability, Mr. Chalak found solace in the embrace of a kindred spirit, his facade crumbling like a sandcastle beneath the relentless tide of truth. For in the vibrant tapestry of Indian existence, it is our flaws and imperfections that bind us together, weaving a tapestry of shared humanity amidst the chaos of life.
And as the first light of dawn broke upon the horizon, illuminating the bustling streets with its golden glow, Mr. Chalak emerged from the shadows, his true identity laid bare for all the world to see. For in embracing his authentic self, he had discovered the greatest truth of all: that in a world shrouded in deception, the greatest act of defiance is to embrace the light of honesty and acceptance.
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, 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 satireThe Saga of the Bulging Belly.
☆ Satire ☆ The Saga of the Bulging Belly ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆
I’m neither Akash Ambani nor someone with a hefty salary. I’m just a chubby. Pure as a hundred-carat gold, but also a hundred percent pure fat chubby. Living as a chubby is quite challenging. But being a big brother is an even bigger thought. When girls see chubby folks like me, they think we prefer food over true love. Maybe that’s why they quickly label us “bhaiya” (brother). But do they know that even chubbies have a heart, and dreams of love too? It makes me wonder if the idea of being a brother might become permanent. Don’t I have the right to love too? I’m saying all this because I’m quite chubby. Chubbies understand the struggles of chubbies. Just like Mahatma Gandhi is the father of the nation, similarly, every chubby guy becomes a big brother for girls all over the country.
Who knows why girls call me “bhaiya” as soon as they see me. Don’t they realize I have feelings too? I also desire to love. Ever since I heard the phrase “like a melon changing its color after seeing a melon,” girls, even older women, advise me to sit far away, calling me “bhaiya.” It feels like they see chubby guys and suddenly transform into scriptures, recognizing a robust youth and starting to preach respect worldwide. My situation worsens when elderly women, whose hair has turned white with age, start to flutter, and they too don’t hesitate to call me “bhaiya.” I felt like calling them “mom,” but I wasn’t as open-minded as them.
Chubby guys like me have a favorite dress. One, because companies don’t make dresses for chubbies. They neither have a color choice nor a design. Sometimes it feels like I should set these companies on fire. Then I think, who will be left to give away even one dress if I do that? Describing the pain of buying clothes at a shopping mall is difficult. The salesmen, eagerly waiting to make a deal or cracking some other risky joke, ask, “Sir, what size jeans should I show you? 32, 34, or slim fit?” Now, how do I tell him that no dress is made for chubbies under the name of “slim”? Then, tiredly, they hand over a 44-size tent-like outfit to me, sticking some English name on it. It’s strange for chubby guys like us to go shopping for clothes, and no extraordinary thought can explain it.
All this happens because of three shops next to the shopping mall. Whenever I come here, I never forget to visit these three shops. The name of the first shop is Hungry Grills, the second is Bhola Nath Chaat Bhandar, and the third is Delicious Ice Cream. Before coming here, I reduce my belly by two to three inches and then increase it as much after leaving. It’s not that I don’t keep track of anyone. After paying off the gyms, there is a sense of peace by visiting these shops. This shopping mall is not just a favorite place for chubby guys like me but can also be seen as a revolutionary place – ‘Shopping Gym.’ Yes, you heard it right, gym. Along with shopping, you also get delicious dishes here to exercise your taste buds. Instead of working out in the gym, you can enhance your eating skills here. Thanks to this revolutionary discovery of the shopping mall, I become a connoisseur of enjoying every moment of my chubby life instead of getting lost in the crowd of shops.
People think that chubby boys only have trouble finding clothes. When they step into a clothing store, it’s like a dangerous jungle safari for them, where every outfit threatens to shatter their self-esteem into thousands of pieces. Chubby boys are constantly under the scrutiny of society, where this chubby tale becomes a topic of discussion for the common people. People feel entitled to give free advice based on our eating habits, exercise styles, and sitting-standing criteria. And on top of that, they have endless sarcastic remarks like, “You have such a chubby face, if you lose a little weight.” In a world that worships the temple of thinness, chubby people have to create their own space.
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