Tag: #Weekly_Column

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 Cookie Chronicles: A Health Revolution... . 

☆ Witful Warmth# 31 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ The Cookie Chronicles: A Health Revolution…  ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

The world had been wrong for centuries—nay, millennia. Nutritionists, doctors, mothers clutching kale smoothies—all of them had perpetuated a grand lie. Vegetables, they said, were good for you. Fruits were heralded as nature’s candy. But I, Harold T. Whittleman, had discovered the truth: health lies in sugar and grease, washed down with a caramel-colored river of fizz.

It started as all great revolutions do—with a stroke of inspiration. Mine came at a discount store, where the fluorescent lighting shone down upon the holy trinity of human survival: cookies, chips, and cola. Each product was adorned with bright, cheerful labels that promised joy, satisfaction, and the possibility of collecting reward points. “Why toil with salads,” I thought, “when the universe has already perfected flavor in powdered cheese and high-fructose corn syrup?”

Thus began my dietary odyssey.

The Breakfast of Champions

Each morning, I feasted upon a breakfast of chocolate chip cookies. Not the sad, homemade kind baked by well-meaning grandmothers who thought raisins were a suitable substitute for joy—no, these were mass-produced miracles, engineered to crumble at the perfect angle when dunked into cola. Milk, after all, was for calves and weaklings.

My mornings were radiant. The sugar hit my bloodstream like a marching band on parade. My hands trembled, yes, but who needs steady hands when wielding a keyboard? My boss once asked why my reports were written in a font size of 72 and filled with random letters. I explained that I was too busy blazing a trail into the future of health to care about mundane details like coherence. He muttered something about “termination,” but I heard “revolutionary.” The world was already catching on.

Lunch with a Crunch

Lunchtime was a sacred ritual: bags of chips stacked like ancient tomes, each one containing the wisdom of artificial flavoring. The crunch was symphonic—a crescendo of MSG and potato fragments. The air around me shimmered with an orange dust, so divine that I stopped using napkins entirely. Why waste such a gift? I merely licked my fingers clean, an act of efficiency that would have made Henry Ford weep with pride.

By now, the doubters had begun to emerge. “Harold, you’re turning orange,” my neighbor whispered one day, concern dripping from her celery-chewing mouth. I dismissed her ignorance. The glow of health was clearly too radiant for her leafy-green brain to comprehend.

Dinner of the Gods

Dinners were a cola symphony, punctuated by cookie intermissions. Each sip was a reminder that life is better when it fizzes. The burps that followed were not crass but celebratory—a salute to human ingenuity. I began experimenting with cookie-chip pairings, striving for that perfect bite that could bring tears to even the most hardened cynic. Dorito-dusted Oreos were a triumph. Lay’s and Fig Newtons? A disaster, but every visionary has their setbacks.

The Sorrow of Society

As with all prophets, I faced persecution. The grocery store banned me after an altercation in which I declared their vegetable aisle a “crime scene of taste.” My family staged an intervention, ambushing me with broccoli and earnest PowerPoint slides about “nutrition.” I wept—not for myself, but for their delusion. How tragic that they couldn’t see the light shining from my grease-stained fingertips.

When I refused to repent, they declared me lost. My mother sobbed into her organic quinoa salad, wailing about my cholesterol. My father simply shook his head and muttered, “At least he’s happy.” That was the last time I saw them, though they still send me pamphlets with titles like Kale: Your Liver’s Best Friend and Sugar: Sweet, Sweet Death.

The Scientific Backlash

My notoriety grew. Doctors began publishing studies condemning my lifestyle, claiming that my arteries resembled “petrified wood” and that I was “a walking public health crisis.” I laughed in the face of their fear-mongering, although laughing sometimes made me wheeze. Science, after all, is a matter of interpretation. One man’s heart disease is another’s calorie-powered engine.

When a journalist asked if I worried about my long-term health, I retorted, “What’s the point of a long life if it’s spent eating kale?” That quote made headlines, and I became an overnight sensation in certain circles—mainly snack forums and cola enthusiast subreddits.

The Bitter End

Inevitably, tragedy struck. My bathroom scale began emitting smoke when I stepped on it. My dentist staged a one-man protest outside my home, holding a sign that read, “Your teeth are a war zone.” My knees developed a curious habit of collapsing under my weight, usually while I carried a full tray of chips.

The end came during my annual health check-up. My doctor—pale, sweaty, and holding what appeared to be an exorcist’s toolkit—delivered the news: my blood had the viscosity of molasses, and my liver had unionized to demand better working conditions.

I nodded solemnly and asked if cola could be considered a health tonic if consumed with a straw. He fainted.

Epilogue: A Legacy of Crumbs

I write this tale from my hospital bed, hooked up to an IV that I’m assured contains neither sugar nor cheese dust. The world outside continues its delusion, clutching their carrots and sipping their herbal teas. But I remain steadfast.

The nurses scold me when they catch me sneaking chips, but they don’t understand—they can’t. I am not just a man; I am a movement, a martyr, a crumb-coated beacon of culinary truth.

One day, they will see. One day, the world will realize that health is not about vegetables, or exercise, or moderation—it is about living boldly, crunching loudly, and fizzing gloriously. Until then, I’ll be here, awaiting the moment when humanity wakes up and smells the cookies.

****

© 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 Electoral Cow: From Sacred Symbol to Forgotten Promise... . 

☆ Witful Warmth# 31 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ The Electoral Cow: From Sacred Symbol to Forgotten Promise…  ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

In the grand spectacle of Indian democracy, where the colors of campaigns paint every wall, street, and heart, one figure stands apart as a timeless icon: the cow. Yes, the revered bovine, the embodiment of purity and sustenance, finds herself thrust into the limelight every five years, her significance growing in direct proportion to the urgency of the elections. But, alas, once the ballots are counted and the promises have evaporated, our beloved cow retreats into the shadows, forgotten until the next democratic carnival.

During the election season, cows become the unofficial mascots of manifestos. From posters plastered with slogans glorifying their sanctity to candidates offering garlands to actual cows on camera, the nation seems to unite under the banner of bovine adoration. “Protect the cow!” they cry, equating its welfare with the prosperity of the land. Committees are formed, sanctuaries are promised, and speeches are delivered with dramatic flair, often featuring a candidate stroking a bewildered cow as if they’ve just unlocked the secret to national harmony.

But the real drama begins after the elections. Once the ink has dried on the voters’ fingers and the victors take their oath, the cows are quietly ushered offstage. The sanctuaries become mirages, the committees dissolve into bureaucratic oblivion, and the promises evaporate faster than milk left out in the summer sun. The cows, having served their electoral purpose, are left to wander aimlessly—both literally and metaphorically—as the political machinery moves on to more “pressing” matters.

This cyclical amnesia isn’t new, of course. The cow has been a silent participant in India’s political theater for decades, a mute witness to the ebb and flow of rhetoric. During elections, she’s elevated to divine status, her image adorning banners, her name invoked in fiery debates. Political parties compete to outdo each other in their devotion, promising everything from free fodder to state-of-the-art shelters. The sheer creativity of these pledges would be admirable if it weren’t so blatantly opportunistic.

However, come post-election reality, the cows find themselves back in the mundane world of potholed streets and neglected fields. The promised shelters remain blueprints; the free fodder is nowhere to be seen. Stray cows wander urban jungles, dodging traffic and scavenging for scraps, their plight a stark contrast to the reverence showered upon them just weeks earlier. It’s as if the electoral cow and the real cow exist in parallel universes, one revered and the other ignored.

One might ask: why does the cow occupy such a peculiar position in our politics? The answer lies in her symbolic power. In a country as diverse and complex as India, the cow represents a unifying ideal—a symbol of cultural identity and traditional values. By aligning themselves with this symbol, politicians tap into a reservoir of emotional resonance, crafting an image of themselves as protectors of heritage. It’s a strategy that works remarkably well, as evidenced by the fervor it generates among voters.

But this strategy also reveals the hollowness of much of our political discourse. The cow becomes a convenient prop, a tool to distract from substantive issues like unemployment, education, and healthcare. While leaders wax poetic about cow protection, the real problems facing farmers—including those who rear these very cows—are conveniently sidelined. The irony is as thick as the butter churned from her milk: the very creature they claim to cherish becomes a pawn in a game that cares little for her actual well-being.

And what of the voters? Are we not complicit in this charade? We cheer for the promises, applaud the symbolism, and cast our votes, only to lament the broken pledges later. Perhaps it’s time we held our leaders accountable, demanding not just words but actions. After all, if the cow truly is a symbol of our values, shouldn’t her welfare reflect our collective conscience?

Imagine a world where post-election reality matches pre-election rhetoric. Sanctuaries would thrive, stray cows would find homes, and farmers would receive genuine support. The cow would no longer be a fleeting mascot but a true beneficiary of the promises made in her name. Such a world might seem idealistic, but isn’t it worth striving for?

Until then, the cow will continue to play her dual role: a sacred symbol during election season and a forgotten figure in its aftermath. She will graze on the empty promises of manifestos, her plight a silent reminder of the gap between words and deeds. And as the political circus moves on, we, too, will move on—until the next election, when the cow will once again take center stage, her significance rediscovered, her symbolism renewed.

In the end, the story of the electoral cow is a satire not just of politics but of us as a society. It’s a tale of misplaced priorities and selective memory, of sacred symbols turned into political tools. The question is: will we continue to fall for the same old tricks, or will we demand better? The answer, like the cow’s next appearance, is just a vote away.

*

© 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 Lost Childhood... . 

☆ Witful Warmth # 30 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ The Lost Childhood…  ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

In a quaint little town, where the chirping of birds once drowned out the noise of the mundane, a new deity arose, sleek and shiny, with a screen that glowed brighter than the morning sun. This was no ordinary deity; it was the Mobile Phone, the omnipotent ruler of modern life. Revered by adults and children alike, it demanded neither temples nor offerings—just their time, their sanity, and their souls. 

Among its devoted followers were children, tiny humans who once found joy in the rustling leaves and the melody of rain. Now, their playgrounds were mere backdrops to selfies, their laughter replaced by the clinking sounds of virtual coins in games like Free Fire. Gone were the days of scraped knees and shared secrets; instead, they embarked on epic battles in pixelated arenas, fighting for glory that mattered to no one but the algorithm. 

“Mom, I’m in the top 10!” little Arjun exclaimed one day, his face aglow—not with the warmth of childhood, but with the cold, blue light of his phone. His mother smiled weakly, her heart breaking silently. Arjun no longer cared for the toy train she had saved for months to buy. No, his heart now belonged to a digital avatar wielding a sniper rifle. 

The irony, of course, was deliciously cruel. These tiny warriors, so adept at maneuvering through the mazes of their games, couldn’t find their way back to the dinner table without Google Maps. They built empires in the virtual world while their real lives crumbled into piles of neglected homework and skipped meals. 

Social media was the Mobile Phone’s other masterpiece. Children who once giggled over silly jokes now wore serious expressions, perfecting their TikTok dances and Instagram poses. They chased likes and followers, trading their innocence for a fleeting moment of digital fame. “I’m a content creator!” declared 12-year-old Riya, her face adorned with filters that made her look like a porcelain doll. The irony? She was too busy creating “content” to notice the real content of life slipping through her fingers.  

Parents, too, were complicit in this tragedy, their hypocrisy shining brighter than their phone screens. “These kids are always glued to their phones!” they complained, while scrolling endlessly through WhatsApp forwards and YouTube tutorials. They handed over tablets to toddlers to keep them quiet, then lamented the loss of familial bonds. “When I was your age,” they began, only to be cut off by the ding of a notification. 

 The Mobile Phone, meanwhile, basked in its omnipresence. It watched as children became strangers to their own families, their heads bent not in prayer but in endless scrolling. Grandparents, once the keepers of bedtime stories, now sat in corners, ignored and forgotten, while their grandchildren watched strangers play video games on YouTube. 

Yet, the tears of this satire are not just for the children; they are for humanity itself. The Mobile Phone, this marvel of human ingenuity, was meant to connect us, yet it had severed the most vital connections. Children no longer ran to their parents with tales of their day; instead, they posted stories on Instagram. Friends no longer laughed together in sunlit parks; they exchanged emojis in WhatsApp groups. 

And then there was the dark underbelly of this addiction: the sleepless nights, the strained eyes, the anxiety over a game’s ranking or a post’s likes. A child’s world, once filled with endless possibilities, now revolved around a six-inch screen. The irony was bitter—these devices, designed to make life easier, had made childhood the most complicated it had ever been. 

But perhaps the cruelest satire of all lies in the dreams of these children. Ask them what they want to be, and the answers are as predictable as they are tragic: “A gamer,” “A YouTuber,” “A social media influencer.” They no longer aspire to be doctors or artists or astronauts; their dreams are confined to the boundaries of a Wi-Fi signal. 

And so, the Mobile Phone sat on its metaphorical throne, ruling over a kingdom of lost childhoods. It had given these children everything—entertainment, validation, distraction—yet taken away the one thing that mattered: their sense of wonder. 

One day, when the screens go dark, and the servers shut down, these children will look up and find a world they no longer recognize. They will see their parents, older and wearier, their siblings, strangers they never got to know, and their own reflections, unfiltered and unfamiliar. 

The question is, will it be too late? Will they mourn the playgrounds they never explored, the books they never read, the bonds they never formed? Or will they simply scroll on, looking for the next distraction, the next game, the next follower? 

Perhaps the only way to end this tale is with a plea—a tearful, satirical cry for the world to wake up. Let children be children again. Let them climb trees and scrape their knees. Let them write their own stories, not captions. Let them fight real battles, not virtual ones. 

For if we don’t, this satire will no longer be satire; it will be the reality we chose. A reality where the Mobile Phone is king, and childhood is its greatest casualty.

*

© 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 Truth of the Dig... . 

☆ Witful Warmth # 29 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ The Truth of the Dig…  ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

Once upon a time, in an old neighborhood of Hyderabad, an unusual silence fell after a grand procession. The streets, usually bustling with life, were eerily deserted. Shattered glass scattered in every corner and old carvings on the walls gave the place an air of melancholy, as if the past itself had been engulfed in silence. The marks on the shards seemed to whisper stories of an era long gone, yearning to be heard. 

Years later, a new generation arrived and saw the neighborhood as a historical site. They thought, “Something remarkable might be hidden here,” and began to excavate the alley. At first, they found nothing significant—just broken glass and faded carvings. Disappointed, they continued digging deeper. Then, they unearthed something extraordinary—a vintage clock! 

A sense of wonder spread across everyone’s faces. This was no ordinary clock. It appeared to symbolize a profound understanding of time and history. As they gazed at it, no one could comprehend who the clock belonged to or who might have used it. 

Ramu Bhai, an old art researcher, smiled faintly and said, “Whose clock could this be? If it’s this old, it might have belonged to someone significant who valued time immensely.” 

Upon closer inspection, they discovered that the clock was not merely made of metal and glass but adorned with exquisite gems and rare wood. 

Ali Bhai, a researcher in ancient arts, exclaimed in astonishment, “What’s this? Whose clock could it be? Look at it—it seems brand new, as if just crafted. And the most peculiar thing is the use of gems and wood in its construction.” 

Nasima Bee, who studied the histories of old families, smiled and remarked, “What does the ancient world want to show us with this? If this clock is so unique, it must symbolize someone’s thoughts and decisions. But who could it be?” 

Everyone gathered around the clock, trying to unravel its mysteries. Once, a clock was merely a device to tell time. But this clock seemed to reveal the truth about thought and understanding alongside time. 

Shahid Bhai, a young thinker, addressed the group, saying, “This clock conveys a new message! If it’s this extraordinary, it signifies more than just time—it’s a symbol of understanding and mental strength.” 

The realization dawned upon everyone. The clock was teaching them that real strength doesn’t come from time itself but from the ability to use time wisely, with thought and understanding. 

Mahesh Bhai, a researcher in ancient education, added, “This clock tells us that the proper use of time isn’t driven by mere physical strength but by the power of thought and decision-making.” 

Gradually, people understood that the clock was not just a relic of a bygone era but a representation of all those who grasped the significance of time. It showed that everything has a purpose, and this clock was a unique part of that purpose. 

As people stared at the clock, a new perspective began to unfold before their eyes. This clock was not merely a marker of time but a symbol of the strength to make the right decisions at the right moment.

*

© 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 Love is Blind... . 

☆ Witful Warmth # 28 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ Love is Blind…  ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

They say love is blind. It seems like love is a frustrated, sightless god who, by mistake, shoots an arrow at the wrong person. After hearing this, one can’t help but feel the urge to grab them and ask, “Hey, who told you love is blind?”

The truth is, love isn’t blind anymore. In the modern age, love has taken off the blindfold and now sees everything clearly, like a CCTV camera, observing every little detail. Once, love was defined simply—eyes met, hearts raced, and boom, love happened. But now? Now love happens after checking out the bank balance, religion, caste, social status, and even social media followers.

Love is no longer ‘blind’; it’s now ‘well-sighted’. And not just any sight—love now has HD vision, observing everything with crystal clarity. As soon as someone comes into view, love swiftly inspects their clothes’ brand, the price of their watch, and the model of their phone. If someone is carrying the iPhone 16 Pro, the heart skips a beat. Otherwise, Android users are left to linger in the “friend zone.”

Love now checks religion and caste. It used to be blind when lovers would visit temples and mosques to confess their feelings. But now? “What’s your caste?” “How much gold does your family have?” “Will your parents agree to this?” Without these questions, no one dares to say “I love you.”

Today’s love thrives on Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat. The new mantra of love is, “How many Instagram followers do you have?” If you don’t have at least 10k followers, you’re not worthy of love. People used to fall in love listening to ghazals, but now they fall for reels.

In love today, having a heavy heart is secondary—your wallet needs to be heavy. “I’ll marry you, but how much is your salary?” is a perfect reflection of today’s love. Love has now become less about emotions and more about “financial investment.”

Seeing the strange calculations of status in love, sometimes it feels like love has turned into a management project. If you drive a BMW and your house is in a posh neighborhood, your chances of love increase. Otherwise, love just sings the old song, “I can leave everything for your love, but not my EMIs.”

Love isn’t blind anymore—it has learned to pretend to be secular. Those who say “love doesn’t see religion” are the first ones standing at the doorsteps of their own religion when it comes to marriage. When marriage is on the cards, love quietly cloaks itself in religion, caste, and cultural norms.

In reality, claiming “love is blind” is like deceiving yourself and society. Love is no longer blind, it’s so smart now that it keeps track of everything. Society has turned love into a subject of ‘data analytics.’

And if anyone claims that they loved someone without any discrimination, they are either a saint or living in a fantasy world. Saying love is blind is as much a joke as saying, “Everyone in politics is honest.”

This satirical analysis of love teaches us that “love is blind” is now an outdated, impractical saying. Today, love sees with its eyes and decides with its brain. So, before calling love blind, think twice, because today’s love wears glasses and analyzes everything under a microscope. Next time someone tells you love is blind, smile and reply, “No, my friend, love now sees faster than CCTV.”

*

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

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