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 Trials of Truth: A Modern-Day Journalism.  

☆ Witful Warmth# 37 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ The Trials of Truth: A Modern-Day Journalism… ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

King Vikram hoisted the ever-mischievous Vetala onto his shoulders, bracing himself for another riddle-filled ordeal. No sooner had he begun walking than Vetala cackled, “O King! Let me tell you a tale from the grand halls of modern journalism. But beware! If you fail to answer my question at the end, your head shall shatter into a thousand pieces!”

Vikram, ever the unwavering monarch, sighed and replied, “Speak, Vetala. I shall answer.”

Thus began the tale.

In the capital city, a most esteemed and influential news channel, “The Nation’s Conscience,” declared that it required a fresh news anchor—one worthy of the sacred duty of informing the masses. The selection process was veiled in secrecy, as only the shrewdest, most astute, and cunning minds would prevail. But, as in all great institutions, true merit lay in something far deeper.

Three hopeful candidates presented themselves: Raghav, Suresh, and Mohan. Each was competent, but the question remained—were they the right kind of competent? Their fate rested in the hands of the channel’s supreme editor-in-chief, the venerable Bhaktibhushan Acharya.

With an air of divine authority, Acharya gazed at the three and posed his first question: “What is truth?”

Raghav, a firm believer in the antiquated values of journalism, answered boldly, “Truth is impartial. It is that which serves the people and upholds justice.”

Acharya’s brow furrowed with displeasure. “Nonsense! Impartial journalism? There is no such thing! You, sir, have failed.”

Raghav, his ideals still intact but his career aspirations crumbling, departed in dejection.

Acharya turned to Suresh. “And what do you say?”

Suresh, a man of pragmatic intelligence, replied, “Truth is whatever is repeated often enough to be accepted as truth.”

Acharya’s lips curled into a smile. “A fine thought! But not yet sublime. You must go deeper.”

Now came Mohan’s turn. With a smug confidence, he declared, “Truth is whatever the ruling power decrees it to be.”

Acharya leapt up in sheer delight. “Ah! Now here is a man who understands the nature of reality! You are on the path to becoming a journalist of true distinction.”

The second trial began. Acharya presented them with a challenge—a simulated debate. The topic: Inflation does not exist; it is merely a rumor.

Raghav, ever the fool for facts, cited statistics and government reports, attempting to prove that inflation was indeed a grim reality.

Acharya’s expression darkened. “Why is your voice so feeble? A news anchor must dominate the airwaves! Guests may speak, but their words should be mere interruptions to your thunder! You are unfit for this noble profession. Begone!”

Suresh, taking heed of Raghav’s mistake, spoke louder, cut off his imaginary guests, and filled the space with his own voice. Yet, Acharya was unsatisfied.

Then came Mohan. His strategy was elegant in its simplicity: he bellowed at the top of his lungs, repeating only one phrase—“Do not betray the nation! Speak against the government, and you are an enemy of the people!”

Acharya clapped his hands in glee. “Marvelous! A true newsman in the making!”

Now, the final and gravest test awaited. Acharya turned to them and said, “Imagine you are in possession of a video—one that exposes a powerful minister embroiled in corruption. What would you do?”

Raghav, the hapless idealist, responded, “I would broadcast the truth for the people to see.”

Acharya groaned in agony, clutching his head as if in pain. “Oh, you misguided soul! If you wished to speak truth, you should have become a monk, not a journalist! Leave at once!”

Suresh, having learned the game, answered with careful calculation, “I would edit the video to soften the blow, ensuring that it does not cause unnecessary trouble.”

Acharya nodded approvingly. “A step in the right direction, but still not bold enough.”

Mohan, beaming with triumph, proclaimed, “I would erase the video entirely and, in its place, release a new one that frames the opposition as the true culprits.”

Tears of joy welled in Acharya’s eyes. “Magnificent! You have mastered the art of modern journalism! You are now officially our news anchor.”

Vetala cackled with delight. “So, O King! What lesson does this tale teach us?”

Vikram, ever steadfast, answered solemnly, “This tale reveals that in the world of modern journalism, truth and objectivity have become relics of the past. Success is no longer measured by integrity but by one’s ability to amplify the voice of power, twist reality to suit convenience, and drown out reason with sheer volume.”

No sooner had he spoken than Vetala shrieked with laughter and flew back to his perch on the ancient tree. “Ah, Vikram! You have answered yet again! And so, the game continues.”

Vikram sighed, tightened his grip on his sword, and strode forward once more, determined as ever to capture the cunning spirit.

And thus, the cycle of truth and deception marched on, as eternal as time itself.

****

© 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 A Journey through the Literary Fair…. 

☆ Witful Warmth# 33 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ Elections and Evasions: A Comedy of Unkept Promises… ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

In the vibrant land of India, where every election season unfolds like a theatrical performance, the latest chapter of our grand democratic saga has begun. The air buzzes with anticipation, a peculiar mix of hope and disbelief, as citizens prepare for yet another rollercoaster ride through the amusement park of unfulfilled promises. Welcome to the spectacle of “Promises Galore,” where the main act is always the same: the politicians, draped in their finest rhetoric, dazzling the audience with dreams they have no intention of fulfilling.

The Prelude: An Invitation to Hope

As dawn breaks over the bustling streets of New Delhi, the city is adorned with colorful banners and flags, each one more ostentatious than the last. These political advertisements proclaim a glorious future, a utopia where poverty will be eradicated, roads will be paved with gold, and every citizen will have a dream home—if only they vote for the right party, of course. The citizens, gullible as ever, gather around their television sets, eyes glued to the charismatic leaders who promise them the moon while their feet remain firmly planted in the muck of reality.

 Act I: The Campaign Circus

The campaign trail kicks off with the fervor of a carnival. Politicians clad in pristine white kurta-pajamas, their faces smeared with the magic of camera filters, hop aboard their gleaming SUVs, parading through slums that they have only ever glimpsed from the safety of their tinted windows. The candidates throw out promises like confetti—better schools, better healthcare, and, of course, better governance. The crowd, armed with placards and a keen sense of irony, cheers wildly as if they truly believe these assurances. Each rally is a grand spectacle, with fireworks and music that would put any Bollywood blockbuster to shame.

Act II: The Results Extravaganza

Fast forward to the day of reckoning: election results. The moment is laden with excitement as votes are tallied and the winners emerge from their fortified bunkers, adorned in garlands of flowers and claims of a resounding victory. In a bizarre twist, the same people who only weeks ago were promised a brighter tomorrow now find themselves listening to the victors declare that they are “the voice of the people.” Meanwhile, the vanquished wear their defeat like a badge of honor, vowing to return stronger, as if the political arena is some kind of eternal wrestling match.

Act III: The Government Formation Fiasco

With the dust barely settled, the new government is hastily formed, and the ministers take their oaths, puffed up with pride and lofty ideals. Behind closed doors, however, the reality is far less noble. Deals are brokered like shady backroom trades at a market, with portfolios changing hands like candy. The cabinet resembles a ragtag ensemble cast, where loyalty often outweighs competence, and the whispers of scandal already loom over the horizon.

Act IV: The First 100 Days of Glory

In the first 100 days, the new administration is all about theatrics. Press conferences become a stage for dazzling PowerPoint presentations filled with pie charts and promises that would make even the most seasoned con artist proud. The media, ever the dutiful watchdogs, gobbles up the sound bites, conveniently ignoring the yawning chasm between policy and practice. Meanwhile, the opposition is poised, ready to pounce on any slip-up, their enthusiasm equal only to their hypocrisy.

Act V: The Descent into Mediocrity

As the months roll on, the initial euphoria morphs into a mundane routine of unfulfilled aspirations. Bureaucratic red tape ensnares every initiative, and the wheels of progress grind to a halt. Citizens watch helplessly as the promises made during the campaigns fade into distant memories, much like their hopes for a better future. The only thing that flourishes is the cycle of disappointment, and the public’s collective sigh echoes through the streets.

Epilogue: The Endless Cycle of Discontent

And so, we find ourselves back at the beginning of this grand circus, where the citizens, ever hopeful, cling to the belief that change is just around the corner. The politicians, ever the performers, play their roles to perfection, knowing that the show must go on. As the curtains close on this act, the audience—exhausted yet hopeful—continues to applaud, caught in the illusion that perhaps, just perhaps, next time will be different.

In this tragicomedy of Indian democracy, one undeniable truth remains: the more things change, the more they stay the same. The curtain falls, the lights dim, and as the applause fades, the sobering reality sets in. The dreams of a nation hang in the balance, and the laughter gives way to tears—a poignant reminder that in the great play of life, hope and disillusionment are merely two sides of the same coin

****

© 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 A Journey through the Literary Fair…. 

☆ Witful Warmth# 33 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ A Journey through the Literary Fair…  ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

In the realm of modern literature, one might be tempted to compare it to an ancient epic—if one could stomach such a thought without bursting into laughter. Each year, a grand spectacle unfolds, drawing in literary aficionados as if they were moths to a flickering flame. Writers, like hapless actors in a farcical play, assemble to showcase their wordsmithing wizardry. Yet, amidst this theatricality, the only glimmer that captures one’s attention is the dazzling light of awards, overshadowing any semblance of genuine literary merit.

Enter our protagonist, Mr. Raghubir Shukla, a rather ordinary author with ambitions as lofty as a hot air balloon, though without the necessary buoyancy to lift him off the ground. His trusty typewriter—a relic from a bygone era—had seen better days, often spitting out words with all the reliability of a drunken sailor. Despite this mechanical misfortune, Shukla was deeply committed to the serious business of literature, harboring a desire to win an award. This notion had burrowed into his mind like a goat munching on grass, refusing to budge.

Shukla had heard tales from fellow writers who basked in the glory of awards, spinning tales of their triumphs like poets celebrating their muses. They sang the praises of recognition, and here was Shukla, yearning for a slice of that sweet literary pie. Inspired by his peers, he gathered his friends in their quaint little village, embarking on a mission to concoct a master plan for securing awards.

But lo and behold, let us turn our gaze to the editors—the true puppeteers of this literary circus. They weave intricate webs, ensnaring unsuspecting authors in their traps, making it seem as though publishing is a privilege reserved for the chosen few. One such editor, the illustrious Raunak Chaubey, was a master of this art, editing countless anthologies with the efficiency of a factory assembly line. Chaubey had perfected the craft of extracting money from writers with the finesse of a magician pulling rabbits from hats.

“Your manuscript lacks depth,” Raunak casually informed a beleaguered writer, who looked as dejected as a child denied candy. “However, if you’d be willing to part with a modest sum, I could see my way clear to publishing it.” The writer’s face crumpled, resembling a deflated balloon, as the editor’s offer hung in the air, heavy with irony.

Now, let us not forget the audience—the unsuspecting readers who stand at the back, waiting with bated breath for a truly remarkable piece of writing. They often resemble children lost in a candy store, eyes wide with anticipation. Yet, when faced with the reality of mediocrity, their dreams shatter like glass underfoot. They yearn for literary brilliance, only to find themselves grappling with the sour taste of disappointment.

Authors crave accolades, but these coveted awards seem to play hide and seek. As soon as the winners are announced, writers adjust their spectacles and wonder, “Is this really the same author who couldn’t string together a coherent sentence?” The irony is as thick as molasses, coating the literary scene in a sticky sweetness that leaves a bitter aftertaste.

And then, amidst this cacophony of absurdity, a peculiar twist emerges. The award ceremonies are graced by illustrious figures, grandstanding on stage while extolling the virtues of literature. When the name of an award winner is called, a hazy figure takes the spotlight, flashing a self-satisfied grin as if they’ve just discovered the secret to immortality.

Yet, here lies a truth that cannot be ignored: these awards often elude the true writers, landing instead in the hands of those ensnared in the editor’s trap. “Why did I award them?” Raunak muses, his mind swirling with self-serving calculations. “Because they’re beneficial to me, and I possess an uncanny knack for securing their accolades.”

Shukla, in his fervor, decided to submit his work to a shared anthology, aided by a friend who shared his ambition. “I’ve penned a magnificent poem, dear Raunak!” he declared, puffing out his chest. “I wish for it to be included in the anthology.” Raunak, the ever-astute businessman, smiled knowingly. “Certainly, but a little contribution would be required.”

Upon rifling through his pockets, Shukla discovered the unfortunate reality: a worn-out pen and a few chocolate wrappers were all he had to offer. However, undeterred, he rallied his family for a few coins, casting his gaze toward the glimmering prize that danced tantalizingly in his imagination. He envisioned a literary rebirth, his life taking a turn as splendid as a dandelion blossoming in spring. As he submitted his name for the award, he found himself pondering, “Will I one day grace the stage to accept my rightful place among the luminaries?”

Finally, the day of the award ceremony arrived, the entire town adorned as if for a royal wedding. Shukla donned his finest tattered clothes, preparing himself to ascend the stage. As his name was called, he stepped forward, feeling as though he stood before the divine. The bright lights of the award seemed to flicker mockingly in his eyes.

Yet, a voice rang out from the stage, announcing, “We award based on status!” Shukla’s heart sank as dreams crumbled before his eyes. “Is this what awards truly signify—a mere piece of paper?” he lamented, grappling with the absurdity of it all.

After the ceremony, Shukla turned to his friends, sharing his newfound wisdom. “This literary fair is nothing more than a charade! We are mere priests of words, gazing upon the glories of paper while the essence of true writing slips through our fingers. In the dazzling allure of awards, the true authors fade into obscurity.”

And so, amidst the laughter of the crowd and the clinking of glasses, the curtain falls on this satirical spectacle—a tale woven with the threads of irony and hypocrisy. In the end, it is not the awards that define the writer, but rather the passion for the craft, the sincerity of expression, and the unwavering belief in the power of words. After all, as we navigate the grand literary fair, let us not forget the true essence of storytelling—the heart that beats behind the facade of fame and recognition.

****

© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

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