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 New Art of Leaders Shedding Tears. 

☆ Witful Warmth # 20 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ The New Art of Leaders Shedding Tears ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

When we look at leaders who wail after not seeing their name on the list of those who dream of greenery, prosperity, and development, a natural question arises: Is their entire political career based solely on opportunism? How many pairs of glasses must the leader have used to read the ticket list, yet none of these glasses ever weakened so much that they couldn’t reveal the right name. Ah! Is this the true essence of politics?

Let us sprinkle some satire on the plight of these familiar tear-shedding leaders. Once considering themselves lions of politics, these leaders now howl like those same lions after seeing a list without their names. It seems as though the political cup, into which we all hoped to pour ourselves, has now begun to overflow from the eyes of these leaders. Crying over a name not appearing on the list is indeed a comic-tragic spectacle that words can barely capture.

Shedding tears over not seeing their name on the list is the latest achievement of these leaders. These are the same leaders who once claimed to wipe away others’ tears, and now, they’re seen shedding tears themselves. Leaders who once roared like lions are now crying like jackals. Oh! Politics is like a colorful blanket, showing shadows on one side and weaving irony on the other.

When these leaders supported the Agniveer scheme, it wasn’t surprising. But now, as Agniveer-style politics has come back to bite them, tears flow like rivers. Their situation has become like watering a garden but offering snacks to each plant instead. Everything was fine as long as their tanks were full, but now that wings have sprouted, they lament the lack of water.

At one time, these leaders boasted when their names were absent from the unemployment lists. Now, seeing their own name missing from the list, they cry and create an uproar. Oh, dear leader! When it was time to throw around the unemployment list, no one thought these same tears would someday knock on their own doors.

The political journey of these leaders is like a play where each scene tells a different story, and in the end, everything seems worthless. Now, these leaders resemble bad actors in that play, who, when they step onto the stage, only perform strange antics. Is this the real meaning of their politics—that as long as there’s profit, they smile, and when trouble strikes, they shed tears?

The leader’s condition resembles that of a drowning man grasping at straws. These leaders once, like the mythical Sanjeevani herb, reassured the public with their promises, but when faced with adversity themselves, they unleashed a flood of tears. Oh, brother! Instead of crying over your name missing from the list, had you thought about those whose recruitment was canceled, your heart might have grown bigger!

In the midst of all this, both the politics of the leader and their art of shedding tears have become subjects worthy of deep study. This satire is not merely a comment but a harsh question on the reality of our politics. Is politics merely a search for opportunities, or does it genuinely have anything to do with public welfare?

The leader’s tears over not finding their name on the list adds a new layer to the theater of politics. It is crucial to understand that shedding tears in politics is easy, but doing true deeds and working for the welfare of society is the real challenge. Until these leaders emerge from their tears, their politics will remain a humorous play.

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© 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 Blind Belief: The Day-to-Day Show. 

☆ Witful Warmth # 19 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ Blind Belief: The Day-to-Day Show ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

Every morning starts the same for Mohan. He wakes up, stretches his arms, and without a second thought, reaches for his phone. Not to check the news or messages, but to consult his “lucky horoscope app.” After all, why leave the day’s success to chance when stars, moons, and planets are willing to do the heavy lifting?

Mohan nods solemnly. He wouldn’t dare to anger the stars. It’s a well-known fact that Venus, hundreds of millions of kilometers away, has nothing better to do than ensure whether he gets that parking spot near the office.

But Mohan isn’t alone in this cosmic madness. His neighbor, Mr. Sharma, believes deeply in numerology. “Eight is unlucky,” he says with the conviction of someone who’s seen the future—or at least paid someone else to tell him. His car’s number plate has been changed so many times that the RTO suspects he’s laundering numbers. But Mr. Sharma knows better. “Safety first,” he says, locking eyes with the driver behind him as if his faith alone will prevent the inevitable rear-end collision. After all, it’s the number plate that ensures safety, not things like brakes or traffic rules. Who needs airbags when you have astrologically aligned number plates? A perfect blend of science and superstition.

In office life, the blind belief express only accelerates. There’s Anita, the HR manager, who’s glued a tiny lemon and chili charm to her computer screen. “It wards off evil eyes,” she explains, convinced that someone from the IT department has cursed her last salary raise. “The evil eye is real!” she declares every time her system crashes—blaming dark forces rather than shoddy Wi-Fi.

The office itself is a temple of superstition. Every Friday, the boss walks in with a tilak on his forehead and a coconut in his hand. He places it carefully in front of his desk, right next to the stapler, ensuring it is positioned “just right” to appease the office gods. “When the coconut cracks properly, business goes well. Last week, it didn’t crack right, and we lost the Gupta deal,” he says, shaking his head gravely. Apparently, all those Excel sheets and PowerPoint presentations are mere trivialities in the grand cosmic design of tender deals. Who knew coconuts could dictate the stock market? It’s time the Sensex started publishing coconut-cracking indexes alongside financial reports.

Back in Mohan’s household, his wife, Suman, has her own battle against evil forces—though hers are much more personal. Every time she hears a dog howl at night, she lights an agarbatti and starts chanting mantras. “Dogs can sense spirits,” she insists, staring into the distance with wide, worried eyes. The fact that the neighbor’s dog howls every night because it’s lonely seems irrelevant. Clearly, the house is under siege from the spirit world.

And then there’s the great ‘Lemon-Laden Defense System’ that Mohan’s family has deployed outside their front door—a lemon and seven green chilies, dangling like an ancient talisman. It’s supposed to ward off evil spirits and financial troubles, though judging by Mohan’s credit card bills, the spirits seem to be winning. Mohan once suggested they could simply cut the chilies and use them in the dal. He was met with such horror you’d think he suggested inviting the spirits for dinner. Lemon chilies – cheaper than insurance but with the added benefit of warding off imaginary foes. No wonder inflation isn’t an issue in the spirit world.

Mohan’s colleague, Ramesh, has an entirely different kind of blind faith: chain messages. “Forward this message to 10 people or suffer bad luck,” reads his latest WhatsApp broadcast. Ramesh believes in these with the devotion of a priest. Once, he forgot to forward a chain message about “Shri Ganesh’s blessings,” and his bike broke down the next day. Now, he forwards them religiously. Better safe than sorry, he says, as though WhatsApp has become the digital age’s temple, where prayers are sent one meme at a time.

But let’s not forget the most universally adored blind belief: the TV astrologer. Every evening, households across the nation tune in to hear predictions from a man who, judging by his wardrobe, is half-astrologer, half-magician. “Today, Pisces should avoid wearing red and making any financial decisions,” he warns with authority. Meanwhile, a man from the Pisces zodiac, sitting in front of the screen in his red pajamas, pauses his online shopping spree with a mix of terror and guilt. What if buying those red shoes ruins his life? Maybe he should settle for the blue ones instead. It’s not about style or preference—it’s the cosmos telling you which shoes to wear!

 And yet, the cherry on top of this grand blind belief cake comes during election season. Political parties parade astrologers, babas, and godmen on TV, as if divine intervention is a viable campaign strategy. Manifestos are written in the stars—quite literally. If Saturn is in the right house, the flyover will get built. If Mars is upset, better postpone that metro project. “Development isn’t about budgets or urban planning,” the candidates say, “it’s about planetary positions.” Why rely on policy when you can consult the heavens? After all, if Venus approves, maybe we’ll finally get those potholes filled.

 It’s clear—whether it’s the alignment of stars, the crack of a coconut, or the swing of a lemon-chili charm, we all love a bit of blind belief. After all, it’s much easier to blame the cosmos than to face the realities of everyday life.

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© 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 Cost of Not Insuring!. 

☆ Witful Warmth # 18 ☆

☆ Satire ☆ The Cost of Not Insuring ☆ Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’ ☆

In a small town nestled in the heart of India, there was a man named Hari who had never understood the allure of insurance. He believed that life was a gamble, and he preferred to play it without any safety nets. His friends, however, often warned him about the dangers of such recklessness. “You should get insurance,” they would say. “It’s essential.”

Hari would scoff at their advice. “Insurance is just a scam to make people pay for something they’ll never use,” he would retort. His skepticism was as thick as the fog that rolled over the town every morning.

One day, Hari was traveling by train, an experience he loathed as much as he disliked insurance. The creaky old coach was filled with the typical assortment of travelers, each lost in their own world. Hari, trying to make the best of it, found a spot by the window and settled in, his grumbling about the inefficiencies of the railway system creating a minor distraction.

As the train rattled along, Hari’s attention was drawn to a young man in a sharply pressed suit, who appeared to be selling insurance policies to the passengers. The young man was relentless, his pitch a well-oiled machine of promises and reassurances.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he began, with a flourish. “Are you prepared for the unexpected? Do you have insurance? If not, you might want to reconsider!”

Hari rolled his eyes. “Another insurance peddler,” he muttered. But the young man’s enthusiasm was unrelenting. “Take it from me,” he continued, “insurance is like a safety net. It’s there when you need it the most. Ever heard of the phrase, ‘Prevention is better than cure’? Well, insurance is prevention!”

Hari, irritated by the intrusion, snapped back, “I’m perfectly fine without insurance. I’m more worried about this train breaking down than my life.”

The young man, undeterred, leaned in and said, “Ah, but imagine if this train were to break down and you didn’t have insurance. The trouble, the heartache! Isn’t it better to be prepared?”

Just then, the train lurched violently. Hari’s face turned ashen as he glanced out the window and saw the tracks leading into a dense forest. The train screeched to a halt. The young man’s face lit up with a knowing smile. “Looks like we’ve had a bit of a hiccup. But don’t worry, this is exactly why you need insurance. It’s the safety net you don’t realize you need until it’s too late.”

As panic spread through the carriage, Hari’s unease grew. The young man’s words seemed to take on a new, ominous weight. “You see,” the young man continued, “insurance is like a guardian angel. It’s there, silently protecting you.”

Suddenly, two men in masks burst into the compartment. They brandished knives, demanding everyone’s valuables. The entire train car erupted in chaos. Hari, caught between disbelief and terror, found himself paralyzed. The masked men moved swiftly, collecting wallets and purses.

The young insurance salesman, unfazed, continued his pitch even in the midst of the heist. “And this, my friends, is why insurance is essential. If you had it, you’d be protected even from situations like these!”

Hari, his hands trembling, pulled out his meager savings—a few coins and a train ticket—and handed them over. The robbers, clearly unimpressed, scoffed and moved on. Hari’s heart raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. The young salesman, still grinning, added, “Well, at least you didn’t lose everything. Remember, insurance is there to cushion the blow.”

As the robbers left and the train resumed its journey, Hari was left in a daze. The young man approached him with a pat on the back. “See? It’s all about being prepared. You should really consider getting insurance for the future. It might just save you from more than you think.”

Hari, too shaken to respond, simply nodded. The train arrived at the next station, and Hari quickly exited, desperate to escape the bizarre ordeal. The young salesman’s voice followed him, “Don’t forget to insure your loved ones, chacha! They’ll need it too!”

Hari walked away, the weight of the encounter heavy on his shoulders. He realized that he had survived the ordeal, but at what cost? The irony of the situation was not lost on him. He had been saved from the immediate threat but was left with an unsettling feeling about the insurance salesman’s relentless pitch.

A few weeks later, Hari’s life took a tragic turn. A severe accident left him with mounting medical bills, and his savings were quickly depleted. He found himself in a desperate situation, without the safety net he had so long dismissed. The irony was cruel; the insurance salesman’s words echoed in his mind as he struggled to cope with the harsh reality of his circumstances.

Hari’s story became a cautionary tale in the town, a reminder of the unpredictable nature of life and the role that preparedness—or the lack thereof—plays in our lives. As Harishankar Parsai once said, “Life is a series of unfortunate events, and the best we can do is laugh at the absurdity of it all.” Hari’s laughter had long since faded, leaving him to ponder the lessons learned too late.

The tragedy of Hari’s life was not merely in the loss he faced but in the realization that the simple wisdom he had once dismissed had become his harsh reality. The irony of the insurance salesman’s final words haunted him as he faced the bitter end of his journey, a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the importance of being prepared for its uncertainties.

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© Dr. Suresh Kumar Mishra ‘Uratript’

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