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प्रश्न
Do you think that friendship is not a matter of age but of emotional connect? Give your views with close reference to V.S. Naipaul's short story B. Wordsworth.
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उत्तर
In the short story 'B. Wordsworth,' V.S. Naipaul portrays an exceptional friendship between an unnamed boy, the story's narrator, and a poet named Black Wordsworth. The narrative unfolds with the introduction of this friendship as the poet arrives at the school-aged boy's gate. As the story progresses, a deepening bond between the characters becomes evident. The boy learns that Black Wordsworth is a poet and the brother of White Wordsworth, who shared a similar taste in poetry.
After the poet leaves, the boy experiences a sense of sadness and prays for another meeting, indicating the emergence of affection for the old poet. When they meet again, Black Wordsworth invites the boy to his house for mangoes from his garden. Despite the untidiness, the boy willingly accompanies the poet, signifying the trust he has developed. The boy even turns to his new friend when faced with punishment from his mother.
During a walk, the old poet encourages the boy to lie on the grass and contemplate the distance of the stars. The boy complies, finding joy in following Wordsworth's instructions, showcasing the enjoyment of their companionship despite the age gap. The poet shares personal stories, including that of his wife's death during childbirth, revealing a shared emotional connection between the two.
The depth of their bond becomes apparent when the poet is on his deathbed, leading the boy to uncontrollable tears upon witnessing the poet's passing. The author emphasizes the uniqueness of this friendship, transcending age and cultural differences. The emotional connection prevails, highlighting that age disparity does not hinder the growth of their special bond.
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संबंधित प्रश्न
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I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden Daffodils;
Beside the Lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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The next night, It came again with a great wakening light,
And show's the names whom love of God had blest,
And Lo! Bin Adhem's name led all the rest.
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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.
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How do the White feel about their dead people?
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.
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.
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Why do the dead of the Tribals never forget them or this beautiful world?
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which would bounce off. Only the eyes and the soft underarms offered a place. He lived well in the river, sunning himself sometimes with other crocodiles-muggers, as well as the long-? snouted fish-?eating gharials-on warm rocks and sandbanks where the sun dried the clay on them quite white, and where they could plop off into the water in a moment if alarmed. The big crocodile fed mostly on fish, but also on deer and monkeys come to drink, perhaps a duck or two.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
What posed a danger to him when he was young?
From the day, perhaps a hundred years ago when he sun had hatched him in a sandbank, and he had broken his shell, and got his head out and looked around, ready to snap at anything, before he was even fully hatched-from that day, when he had at once made for the water, ready to fend for himself immediately, he had lived by his brainless craft and ferocity. Escaping the birds of prey and the great carnivorous fishes that eat baby crocodiles, he has prospered, catching all the food he needed, and storing it till putrid in holes in the bank. Tepid water to live in and plenty of rotted food grew him to his great length. Now nothing could pierce the inch-?thick armoured hide. Not even rifle bullets,
which would bounce off. Only the eyes and the soft underarms offered a place. He lived well in the river, sunning himself sometimes with other crocodiles-muggers, as well as the long-? snouted fish-?eating gharials-on warm rocks and sandbanks where the sun dried the clay on them quite white, and where they could plop off into the water in a moment if alarmed. The big crocodile fed mostly on fish, but also on deer and monkeys come to drink, perhaps a duck or two.
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I think the snn is a flower,
That blooms for just one hour.
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What had Margot written about the sun in her poem?
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(iii) What did she think had happened?
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