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Answer the question.Why does the poet want to know where the teachers go at four o’clock?

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प्रश्न

Answer the question.
Why does the poet want to know where the teachers go at four o’clock?

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उत्तर

The poet thinks that his teachers are not ordinary persons. He looks upon them as super or special human beings. So he wants to know where they go and what they do after school hours.

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  क्या इस प्रश्न या उत्तर में कोई त्रुटि है?
अध्याय 5.2: Where Do All the Teachers Go? - Working with the Poem [पृष्ठ ६८]

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एनसीईआरटी English - Honeysuckle Class 6
अध्याय 5.2 Where Do All the Teachers Go?
Working with the Poem | Q 1 | पृष्ठ ६८

संबंधित प्रश्न

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Where did Bismillah Khan play the shehnai on 15 August 1947? Why was the event
historic?


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He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the bull coming towards him.


Based on your reading of the story, answer the following question by choosing the correct options.

Private Quelch was nick-named ‘Professor’ because of ____


"They say it was a shocking sight
After the field was won;
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun;
But things like that, you know, must be 
After a famous victory.
"Great praise the Duke of Marlbro'won,
And our good Prince Eugene."
"Why,'twas a very wicked thing!"
Said little Wilhelmine.

"Nay...nay...my little girl,"quoth he,
"It was a famous victory.
"And everybody praised the Duke
Who this great fight did win."
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"Why that I cannot tell,"said he,
"But 'twas a famous victory."

Read the lines given above and answer the question that follow.

How does kasper justify the thousands of death in the war?


To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground. You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret. Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by the iron finger of your God so that you could not forget. The Red Man could never comprehend or remember it. Our religion is the traditions of our ancestors — the dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems, and is written in the hearts of our people.

Your dead cease to love you and the land of their nativity as soon as they pass the portals of the tomb and wander away beyond the stars. They are soon forgotten and never return. Our dead never forget this beautiful world that gave them being. They still love its verdant valleys, its murmuring rivers, its magnificent mountains, sequestered vales and verdant lined lakes and bays, and ever yearn in tender fond affection over the lonely hearted living, and often return from the happy hunting ground to visit, guide, console, and comfort them.

Day and night cannot dwell together. The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man, as the morning mist flees before the morning sun. However, your proposition seems fair and I think that my people will accept it and will retire to the reservation you offer them. Then we will dwell apart in peace, for the words of the Great White Chief seem to be the words of nature speaking to my people out of dense darkness.

Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.

How do the White feel about their dead people?


It matters little where we pass the remnant of our days. They will not be many. The Indian’s night promises to be dark. Not a single star of hope hovers above his horizon. Sad-voiced winds moan in the distance. Grim fate seems to be on the Red Man’s trail, and wherever he will hear the approaching footsteps of his fell destroyer and prepare stolidly to meet his doom, as does the wounded doe that hears the approaching footsteps of the hunter.

A few more moons, a few more winters, and not one of the descendants of the mighty hosts that once moved over this broad land or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit, will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours. But why should I mourn at the untimely fate of my people? Tribe follows tribe, and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless. Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come, for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as a friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We will see.

Read the extract given below and answer the question that follows.

How does the speaker differentiate his tribal people from the white people?


 

The boy looked up. He took his hands from his face and looked up at his teacher. The light from Mr. Oliver’s torch fell on the boy’s face, if you could call it a face. He had no eyes, ears, nose or mouth. It was just a round smooth head with a school cap on top of it.

And that’s where the story should end, as indeed it has for several people who have had similar experiences and dropped dead of inexplicable heart attacks. But for Mr. Oliver, it did not end there. The torch fell from his trembling hand. He turned and scrambled down the path, running blindly through the trees and calling for help. He was still running towards the school buildings when he saw a lantern swinging in the middle of the path. Mr. Oliver had never before been so pleased to see the night watchman. He stumbled up to the watchman, gasping for breath and speaking incoherently.

What is it, Sahib? Asked the watchman, has there been an accident? Why are you running?

I saw something, something horrible, a boy weeping in the forest and he had no face.
No face, Sahib?
No eyes, no nose, mouth, nothing.
Do you mean it was like this, Sahib? asked the watchman, and raised the lamp to his own face. The watchman had no eyes, no ears, no features at all, not even an eyebrow. The wind blew the lamp out and Mr. Oliver had his heart attack.

Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.

What was strange about the watchman? What happened to Mr Oliver when the watchman raised the lantern to show his face?


 

After considering the matter, and talking it over with his wife, farmer Jones said that he would take John, and do well by him, now that his mother was out of the way; and Mrs. Ellis, who had been looking out for a bound girl, concluded that it would be charitable in her to make choice of Katy, even though she was too young to be of much use for several years.

“I could do much better, I know,” said Mrs. Ellis; “but as no one seems inclined to take her, I must act from a sense of duty expect to have trouble with the child; for she’s an undisciplined thing—used to having her own way.”

But no one said “I’ll take Maggie.” Pitying glances were cast on her wan and wasted form and thoughts were troubled on her account. Mothers brought cast-off garments and, removing her soiled and ragged clothes, dressed her in clean attire. The sad eyes and patient face of the little one touched many hearts, and even knocked at them for entrance. But none opened to take her in. Who wanted a bed-ridden child?

“Take her to the poorhouse,” said a rough man, of whom the question “What’s to be done with Maggie?” was asked. “Nobody’s going to be bothered with her.”

“The poorhouse is a sad place for a sick and helpless child,” answered one.
“For your child or mine,” said the other, lightly speaking; “but for tis brat it will prove a blessed change, she will be kept clean, have healthy food, and be doctored, which is more than can be said of her past condition.”

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Who came to mourn the dead woman? Why did no one follow the dead cart?


Sibia sprang.
From boulder to boulder she came leaping like a rock goat. Sometimes it had seemed difficult to cross these stones, especially the big gap in the middle where the river coursed through like a bulge of glass. But now she came on wings, choosing her footing in midair without even thinking about it, and in one moment she was beside the shrieking woman. In the boiling bloody water, the face of the crocodile, fastened round her leg, was tugging to and fro, and smiling. His eyes rolled on to Sibia. One slap of the tail could kill her. He struck. Up shot the water, twenty feet, and fell like a silver chain. Again! The rock jumped under the blow. But in the daily heroism of the jungle, as common as a thorn tree, Sibia did not hesitate. She aimed at the reptile’s eyes. With all the force of her little body, she drove the hayfork at the eyes, and one prong went in—right in— while its pair scratched past on the horny cheek. The crocodile reared up in convulsion, till half his lizard body was out of the river, the tail and nose nearly meeting over his stony back. Then he crashed back, exploding the water, and in an uproar of bloody foam he disappeared. He would die. Not yet, but presently, though his death would not be known for days; not till his stomach, blown with gas, floated him. Then perhaps he would be found upside down among the logs at the timber boom, with pus in his eye. Sibia got arms round the fainting woman, and somehow dragged her from the water.

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Why does Sibia think of the two brass vessels when the Gujar woman is attacked?


Abbu Khan said, “No more goats in my house ever again.” Then he changed his mind. Why?


Multiple Choice Question:
The child wants to make sure whether his teacher also had ________.


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English is a __________________ with words that everyone can play.


Multiple Choice Question:
According to the poet, a lot is left unsaid because of _________.


Replace the italicised portion of the sentence below with a suitable phrase from the box. Make necessary changes, wherever required.
Unfortunately, the train I was trying to catch was cancelled.


Replace the italicised portion of the sentence below with a suitable phrase from the box. Make necessary changes, wherever required.
Why don’t the two of you end your quarrel by shaking hands?


The child wants to become_______________.


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patient, proper, possible, sensitive, competent

The project appears very difficult at first sight but it can be completed if we work very hard.


Read the following passage carefully and answer the questions that follow:

Ashamanja Babu lived in a small flat in Bhowanipore. A clerk in the registry department of Lajpat Rai Post Office, Ashamanja Babu was fortunate as he could walk to his office in seven minutes flat without having to fight his way into the buses and trains of Calcutta. He lived a rather carefree life as he was not the kind of person to sit and brood about what might have been had fate been kinder to him. On the whole, he was quite content with his lot. Two Hindi films and fish twice a week-these were enough to keep him happy. The only thing that 10 perturbed him at times was his lack of companionship. A bachelor with few friends and relatives, he often wished he had a dog to keep him company. It need not be a huge Alsatian like the one owned by the Talukdars, who lived two houses down the lane; it could be any ordinary little dog which would follow him around·morning and evening, wag its tail when he came home from work and obey his orders faithfully. Ashamanja Babu's secret desires were that he would speak to his dog in English.

'Stand up', 'Sit down', 'Shake hands' - how nice it 20 would be if his dog obeyed such commands! That would make him really happy.

On a cloudy day marked by a steady drizzle, Ashamanja Babu went to the market in Hashimara to buy some oranges. At one end of the market, beside a stunted kul tree, sat a man. As their eyes met, the man smiled. Was he a beggar? His clothes made him look like one. Ashamanja Babu noticed at least five sewn-on patches on his trousers and jacket. But the man didn't have a begging bowl. Instead, by his side was a shoe-box with a 30 little pup sticking its head out of it.

'Good morning!' said the man in English. Ashamanja Babu was obliged to return the greeting.

'Buy dog? Dog buy? Very good dog.' The man had taken the pup out of the box and had put it down on the ground. 'Very cheap. Very good. Happy dog.'
The pup shook the raindrops off its coat, looked at Ashamanja Babu and wagged its minuscule two-inch tail. Ashamanja Babu moved closer to the pup, crouched ' on the ground and stretched out his hand. The pup gave 40 his ring finger a lick with its pink tongue. Nice, friendly dog.

'How much? What price?'

'Ten rupees.'

A little haggling and the price came down to seven rupees. Ashamanja Babu paid the money, put the pup back in the shoe-box, closed the lid to save it from the drizzle, and turned homewards, forgetting all about the oranges.

  1. For each word given below choose the correct meaning (as used in the passage) from the options provided:    (2)
    1. perturbed  (line 11)
      1. frightened
      2. unsettled
      3. confused
      4. mocked
    2. stunted  (line 25)
      1. prevented from growing
      2. prepared for tricks
      3. prevented from taking action
      4. allowed to do stunts
  2. Which word in the passage means the opposite of the word 'expensive'?  (1)
    1. carefree
    2. ordinary
    3. cheap
    4. haggling
  3. Answer the following questions briefly in your own words:
    1. What kept Ashamanja Babu happy?  (2)
    2. What does this tell you about him?   (2)
    3. What is that one other thing he needed to complete his happiness?  (1)
    4. Why did Ashamanja Babu think the man was a beggar?   (2)
    5. Why did Ashamanja Babu forget about his oranges?   (2)
  4. In not more than 50 words, narrate the series of events from the time the puppy was taken out of the box till it was paid for.  (8)

In the short story, Fritz, what had happened to Fritz according to Jayanta?


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