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.

Some precious moments of life

1. Honoured with ‘Shrestha Navayuvva Rachnakar Samman’ by former Chief Minister of Telangana Government, Shri K. Chandrasekhar Rao.
2. 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.
3. Meeting the famous litterateur Shri Vinod Kumar Shukla Ji, honoured with Jnanpith Award.
4. Got the privilege of meeting Mr. Perfectionist of Bollywood, actor Aamir Khan.
5. Meeting the powerful actor Vicky Kaushal on the occasion of being honoured by Vishva Katha Rangmanch.

Today we present his Story – The Curse of the 13th Birthday.  

☆ Story # 69 ☆

☆ The Curse of the 13th Birthday… ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆ 

Once upon a time, there was a normal human boy named Leo. He was a happy kid who liked cartoons and pizza. But then, on his 13th birthday, a terrible curse hit him. He became a Teenager.

The first sign of the curse was his bedroom. It used to be a place for LEGOs and books. Now, it looked like a trash can had exploded inside a laundry basket. There were crusty socks on the desk and pizza boxes from three weeks ago under the bed. When Leo’s mom opened the door, she didn’t see a room; she saw a biohazard zone. Leo just lay on his bed like a sad potato. “You don’t understand my soul, Mom,” he would groan. “Also, where is my black hoodie? I only have twelve, and I need this specific one to show how dark my life is.”

Teenagers also develop a strange relationship with mirrors. One morning, Leo found a tiny red pimple on his chin. He gasped as if he had been struck by lightning. “It’s over,” he whispered. “I am a monster. I cannot go to school. My life is a tragedy.” He spent two hours trying to hide it using his sister’s makeup and some white toothpaste. By the time he was done, he looked like he had been painted by a confused clown, but he felt “cool.”

Leo’s phone was no longer a gadget; it was a permanent part of his hand. If the Wi-Fi went down for even two minutes, Leo would gasp for air as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the house. He sent five hundred messages a day, and 90% of them were just the word “Bruh.” He would take sixty selfies, delete fifty-nine of them, and then post the last one with the caption: “I look so bad today,” just so people would tell him he looked great.

His stomach also turned into a bottomless black hole. Leo would eat a massive dinner of chicken and rice, walk to his room, and then return to the kitchen five minutes later. “There is zero food in this house!” he would yell while staring directly at a fridge full of groceries. To a teenager, if it isn’t a bag of spicy chips or a frozen pizza, it doesn’t count as “food.”

By the end of the day, Leo was exhausted from the hard work of doing absolutely nothing. He put on his headphones, listened to music that sounded like a blender full of rocks, and sighed. He couldn’t wait to be an adult, because he was sure that grownups totally have their lives together.

****

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Contact : Mo. +91 73 8657 8657, Email : drskm786@gmail.com

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

1. Honoured with ‘Shrestha Navayuvva Rachnakar Samman’ by former Chief Minister of Telangana Government, Shri K. Chandrasekhar Rao.
2. 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.
3. Meeting the famous litterateur Shri Vinod Kumar Shukla Ji, honoured with Jnanpith Award.
4. Got the privilege of meeting Mr. Perfectionist of Bollywood, actor Aamir Khan.
5. Meeting the powerful actor Vicky Kaushal on the occasion of being honoured by Vishva Katha Rangmanch.

Today we present his Story – The Secret of the Blue Notebook.  

☆ Witful Warmth# 68 ☆

☆ Story ☆ The Secret of the Blue Notebook… ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆ 

The halls of St. Jude’s Academy were buzzing. For Aryan, a bright but easily distracted 14-year-old, the world had recently narrowed down to one person: Zoya.

Zoya was new, brilliant at math, and had a laugh that made Aryan forget his own name—and more importantly, his upcoming mid-term exams. He spent his history lessons sketching her profile in the margins of his notebook instead of taking notes on the French Revolution. He was convinced this was “the one,” a deep and eternal love that adults just didn’t understand.

One Tuesday, Aryan found a folded slip of paper in his locker. It smelled faintly of jasmine—the same scent as Zoya’s stationery. It read:

“I see how you look at me. I feel the same. But we have a mission first. Meet me at the old banyan tree behind the library at 5:00 PM on Friday. Bring your Physics notes. Don’t tell a soul.”

Aryan’s heart did a somersault. A secret meeting! A mission! For the next three days, he was in a trance. He barely ate, and he definitely didn’t study. He spent hours imagining their future together, convinced that this “love” was the most important thing in the universe. He felt like a hero in a romantic movie.

Friday arrived. Aryan reached the banyan tree, his heart thumping like a drum. The sun was setting, casting long, eerie shadows. Zoya was already there, but she looked serious—almost cold.

“Did you bring the notes?” she whispered, her eyes darting around.

“Yes,” Aryan stammered. “Zoya, I’ve wanted to tell you—”

“Quiet,” she interrupted, looking around. “The ‘Council’ is watching. If we don’t pass the Physics Finals with 90% or above, we fail the mission. Our connection will be severed forever. We must work. Now.”

For the next two hours, they didn’t talk about feelings. They solved circuits, calculated velocity, and memorized Newton’s laws. It was the most intense studying Aryan had ever done. Every time he tried to say something romantic or hold her hand, Zoya would point to a complex formula and say, “Focus, Aryan. The future depends on it.”

The exams came and went. Aryan, fueled by the desire to “save his love” and impress Zoya, performed better than he ever had. He stayed up late, not dreaming of her, but solving the problems she had challenged him with. On the last day of school, he waited for Zoya by the tree, ready to finally confess his feelings now that the “mission” was over.

Zoya arrived, but she wasn’t alone. She was walking with the School Principal, Mr. Khanna.

Aryan froze. Was he in trouble? Had someone found out about their secret meetings?

“Ah, Aryan,” Mr. Khanna smiled, looking quite pleased. “Zoya tells me your Physics paper was the best in the grade. Excellent improvement. I’m impressed.”

Zoya looked at Aryan and handed him a final note. “Read this when you get home,” she said with a mysterious wink, before walking away toward the faculty office with the Principal.

Aryan ran home and tore open the envelope. He expected a love poem or a date invitation. Instead, he found a printed certificate and a short letter:

“Dear Aryan,

I’m not actually a student. My name is Zoya Malhotra, and I am a 22-year-old Child Psychology intern working on a thesis called ‘The Power of Academic Redirection.’

The Principal noticed your grades were dropping because of a ‘crush’ on the new girl (me). He asked me to help you use that ‘attraction’ as a fuel for your studies. That ‘spark’ you felt? It was just biology, a bit of mystery, and a lot of your own imagination. It felt like love, but it was just a distraction. However, the 95% you got in Physics? That’s real, and that’s yours forever.

P.S. Stay focused. Your brain is much more interesting than your heart at fourteen!”

Aryan sat on his bed, mouth agape. He had been “played” by a psychologist! He felt a bit embarrassed, but then he looked at his marksheet. For the first time, he realized that while the crush had faded the moment he knew the truth, the pride of his success felt much, much better.

****

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Contact : Mo. +91 73 8657 8657, Email : drskm786@gmail.com

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

1. Honoured with ‘Shrestha Navayuvva Rachnakar Samman’ by former Chief Minister of Telangana Government, Shri K. Chandrasekhar Rao.
2. 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.
3. Meeting the famous litterateur Shri Vinod Kumar Shukla Ji, honoured with Jnanpith Award.
4. Got the privilege of meeting Mr. Perfectionist of Bollywood, actor Aamir Khan.
5. Meeting the powerful actor Vicky Kaushal on the occasion of being honoured by Vishva Katha Rangmanch.

Today we present his Heart–Touching Story – The Door is Open.  

☆ Heart-Touching Story # 67 ☆

☆ The Door is Open… ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆ 

At the very edge of the city, where the “concrete jungle” begins to fade, stood a house called ‘Shanti Villa.’ Perhaps it was named ‘Shanti’ (Peace) because the silence there was deeper than a graveyard. The massive iron gate was covered in layers of rust, looking as if time itself had forgotten to touch it.

Aniruddha brushed off his expensive leather jacket. After six years in the glittering world of Australia, he had returned to this dusty silence. As the taxi driver unloaded the luggage, he looked at the house with a strange expression.

“Sir, does anyone actually live here? There is a very heavy smell coming from inside.”

Aniruddha wrinkled his nose. “My mother lives here. She is old; perhaps she hasn’t been able to get the place cleaned. Take your fare and go.”

As soon as he pushed the door, it swung open without a sound. It wasn’t locked. He expected to hear his mother’s voice— “Oh Anu! You’re back?”—but instead, a thick, heavy darkness crept out. It was a darkness that had been brewing within the walls of the villa for six months.

The dust on the drawing-room floor captured his footprints so clearly it felt like a stain on something sacred. He pressed the light switch, but the electricity had been cut off, likely due to unpaid bills. Aniruddha turned on his iPhone’s flashlight. The beam of light fell upon a figure lying on the sofa.

“Ma? Are you sleeping? Look, I’ve come straight from Sydney. I’m exhausted—please make me a cup of tea.”

For the first time in a long while, a voice echoed in the room. But the figure on the sofa was no longer “Mother.” It was a skeleton draped in the remains of brown skin. Nature had done its work—insects had taken their share, leaving only remains behind. Aniruddha’s scream died in his throat. He wanted to believe it was a prank, but that smell? That smell wasn’t a joke; it was the final, bitter truth.

On the table lay a piece of paper. Buried under layers of dust, it wasn’t a will or a list of jewelry. On it, a single sentence was written thousands of times, like a haunting chant: “Son, the door is open. Just come home.”

Aniruddha’s hand began to shake. He shone the light on the bottom of the paper. There were dark, dried stains of blood and tears. It read: “I am not dying, Anu. I am just sleeping so that when you arrive, you can wake me up. It gets very cold in Australia, doesn’t it? I’ve heard people there forget their own family, but you are my son. Wear a sweater; you catch colds easily.”

Then, Aniruddha noticed the skeleton’s tightly clenched fist. He gathered his courage and pried open those cold, stone-like fingers. Inside was a small, blue woolen sweater. It was half-finished. A knitting needle was still stuck in the ball of yarn. This sweater was for Aniruddha’s son—the one whose picture he had sent on WhatsApp three years ago.

“Ma…” a sob escaped Aniruddha’s throat.

The ‘Shanti Villa’ now felt like a courtroom. He remembered Mother’s last phone call six months ago. He had snapped at her— “Mummy, I have a project deadline! Don’t keep harping on the same ‘when are you coming’ tune every day.”

Perhaps that was the night Mother left the door open. Perhaps that was the night she decided she wouldn’t wake up anymore, because waiting while awake was too painful. She had given death the name of “sleep” so her son wouldn’t feel the guilt of her end.

The cold moonlight from the window filled the empty sockets of the skeleton’s eyes. In those hollow spaces, a terrifying wait still seemed to linger—a wait that hadn’t ended even after crossing the border of death. Aniruddha pressed the half-knitted sweater to his face. The wool was no longer soft; it pricked him like thorns.

In that massive villa, surrounded by millions in property, Aniruddha stood alone. He had Australian PR, a huge bank balance, and a bright future. But he did not have the “sleep” that his mother had been wearing for six months.

Sobbing, he held the skeletal hand and whispered softly, “Ma, wake up… look, I’ve come. Close the door now; I won’t go anywhere.”

But Mother did not wake up. She had kept her promise. She had gone to sleep so her son could wake her. But the son had arrived so late that there was no body to wake—only a lifetime of regret.

A gust of wind blew the paper onto the floor. The final line was now clearly visible: “The door is open, because even if you became a stranger, my love is still waiting for you.”

Aniruddha sat down on the cold floor. Outside, the city lights were sparkling, but in that corner of ‘Shanti Villa,’ a darkness had settled—a darkness that no sun in the world could ever chase away.

****

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

Contact : Mo. +91 73 8657 8657, Email : drskm786@gmail.com