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.
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 – The Cholesterol.
☆ Witful Warmth# 62 ☆
☆ Satire ☆ The Cholesterol… ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆
In our great republic, the weighing scale is a tool of the weak, used only by those who have nothing better to do than count the grams of their own insignificance. Here, prosperity is measured not by digits, but by the magnificent circumference of one’s midsection. To call a man “obese” in the hallowed corridors of our local tehsil is not an insult; it is a character certificate. It implies that the man has successfully navigated the treacherous waters of public service and has emerged with enough “surplus” to require a specialized tailor. A thin man, by contrast, is viewed with deep suspicion. If you are thin, you are clearly either a revolutionary, a victim of extreme honesty, or someone whose digestive tract has been compromised by a guilty conscience. A thin man looks like he might actually run to get work done, which is a gross violation of local administrative protocol.
A truly substantial belly commands respect. It is a physical manifestation of a life lived in stationary glory. It says, “I have sat in this plastic chair for twenty years, and I have moved for no one.” It is the ultimate status symbol of the non-performer. Take, for instance, Gaya Deen, whose belly has achieved a sort of sovereign status. It doesn’t just sit on him; it presides over him. When he sits, his belly rests comfortably on his thighs like a loyal pet that has forgotten its own size. Walking, for Gaya Deen, is not a movement; it is a logistical challenge—a rhythmic swaying, a slow-motion tectonic shift. The humble kurta performs a heroic feat of engineering every day, its side-slits gasping for air as they attempt to bridge the gap between front and back.
Modern doctors—those killjoys with their stethoscopes and their obsession with “cholesterol”—try to tell us that this is a “health crisis.” They speak of Body Mass Index as if life were a mathematics exam. But in Chhangamalpur, we know better. Cholesterol is simply the lubricant that keeps the wheels of the soul from grinding too hard against the harsh realities of the world. The primary fuel for this physical expansion is the Samosa, a triangular deity dipped in the holy water of green chutney. In our village, nutrition is a foreign concept, likely imported by some misguided NGO. We believe in the “Deep-Fry Theory of Longevity.” If it has been submerged in oil hot enough to melt lead, it is surely purified of all sins.
When the Block Development Officer arrives, we do not offer him a salad. To offer a man of his stature a salad would be an act of war. We offer him Jalebis—coils of pure sugar that mimic the complexity of our legal system. As the BDO consumes these, his chin begins to multiply. By the third Jalebi, he has three chins. This is seen as a sign of intellectual depth; a man with multiple chins clearly has more layers to his personality. As the local wisdom goes: “A man who counts his calories is a man who cannot be trusted with a secret. If he is so stingy with his own stomach, imagine how stingy he will be with the public funds!”
Obesity in our context is the highest form of non-violence. A fat man cannot chase you. He cannot engage in physical brawls. He can only sit and glare. In a country obsessed with “progress,” the obese man stands—or sits—as a monument to stillness. He is the ultimate practitioner of Dharna. While the West creates “gyms,” those strange torture chambers where people pay to run on belts that go nowhere, we have perfected the art of the “Banya-Lean.” This involves reclining against a gao-takiya at a 45-degree angle, allowing gravity to do the work of distributing one’s mass evenly across the mattress. This is not laziness; it is Strategic Inertia. In the grand scheme of the universe, everything is moving too fast. The obese man, with his labored breathing and his refusal to climb a single flight of stairs, is the only one truly in sync with the slow, grinding pace of Indian justice.
As the sun sets over the stagnant pond of Chhangamalpur, one sees the silhouettes of the village elders. They look like a row of earthen pots, round and sturdy. We are told the world is worried about an “obesity epidemic,” but as long as there is a government subsidy to be skimmed and a chair that doesn’t collapse under the weight of “prosperity,” these great bellies will continue to expand. They are the only things in the village that are actually growing. After all, in a world where everything is uncertain, a man’s weight is the only thing he can truly call his own. It is his private property, his accumulated wealth, and his most visible achievement. To lose weight would be to lose one’s standing in society. And in Chhangamalpur, nobody wants to be a lightweight.
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© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’
Contact : Mo. +91 73 8657 8657, Email : drskm786@gmail.com
≈ Blog Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈
~ Trishna, —the Cravings… 
