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What assurance did the sunrays give to Saeeda? - English

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प्रश्न

What assurance did the sunrays give to Saeeda?

एका वाक्यात उत्तर
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उत्तर

The sunrays granted Saeeda’s request. They promised to reach the earth at the fixed hour the next morning.

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  या प्रश्नात किंवा उत्तरात काही त्रुटी आहे का?
पाठ 8: A Pact with the Sun - Extra Questions 1

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एनसीईआरटी English - A Pact With The Sun Class 6
पाठ 8 A Pact with the Sun
Extra Questions 1 | Q 2

संबंधित प्रश्‍न

Explain what the reason for the following is .

Einstein seeing in Mileva an ally.


Discuss in pair and answer question below in a short paragraph (30 − 40 words.

What did George and Harris offer to pack and why?


Thinking about the Poem

“…whenever we are told to hate our brothers…” When do you think this happens?
Why? Who ‘tells’ us? Should we do as we are told at such times? What does the poet say?


Thinking about the Poem

What does the poet wish for the snake?


How does Iswaran describe the uprooted tree on the highway? What effect does he want to create in his listeners?


Based on your reading of the story answer the following question by choosing the correct option:
With reference to Hooper, the author says, “Every thing was going for him”. What does it imply?


Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in springhtly dance.

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

What is being compared to the stars and why ?


We will ponder your proposition and when we decide we will let you know. But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Our departed braves, fond mothers, glad, happy hearted maidens, and even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season, will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits. And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe^ and when your children’s children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts’that once filled them and still lover this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone.
Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless. Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds.

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

When will the shores swarm with the invisible dead of the speaker’s tribe? Why?


We will ponder your proposition and when we decide we will let you know. But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Our departed braves, fond mothers, glad, happy hearted maidens, and even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season, will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits. And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe^ and when your children’s children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts’that once filled them and still lover this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone.
Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless. Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds.

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

What does the speaker say about death? Explain.


Mr. Oliver, an Anglo-Indian teacher, was returning to his school late one night on the outskirts of the hill station of Shimla. The school was conducted on English public school lines and the boys – most of them from well-to-do Indian families – wore blazers, caps and ties. “Life” magazine, in a feature on India, had once called this school the Eton of the East.

Mr. Oliver had been teaching in this school for several years. He’s no longer there. The Shimla Bazaar, with its cinemas and restaurants, was about two miles from the school; and Mr. Oliver, a bachelor, usually strolled into the town in the evening returning after dark, when he would take short cut through a pine forest.

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

Why was the school where Mr Oliver worked called the Eton of the East?


Joe did not see the Guardians of the Poor on that day, on the next, nor on the day following. In fact, he never saw them at all on Maggie’s account, for in less than a week Mrs. Joe Thompson would as soon leave thought of taking up her own abode in the almshouse as sending Maggie there.

What light and blessing did that sick and helpless child bring to the home of Joe Thompson, the poor wheelwright! It had been dark, and cold, and miserable there for a long time just because his wife had nothing to love and care for out of herself, and so became soar, irritable, ill-tempered, and self-afflicting in the desolation of her woman’s nature. Now the sweetness of that sick child, looking ever to her in love, patience, and gratitude, was as honey to her soul, and she carried her in her heart as well as in her arms, a precious burden. As for Joe Thompson, there was not a man in all the neighbourhood who drank daily of a more precious wine of life than he. An angel had come into his house, disguised as a sick, helpless, and miserable child, and filled all its dreary chambers with the sunshine of love.

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

What changed her ? Describe the change in her.


The tiger was still licking his arm, with increasing relish. The phrase in underlined suggests that Timothy


Find in the poem lines that match the following. Read both one after the other.

He is noisy on purpose


What was the need for Mr Wonka to invent Vita-Wonk?


Why gaps are left between buildings during construction?


Make a sentence of your own using the word ‘drag.’


The little man kept his word. But there was one glitch. What was it?


Why did the Dog say goodbye to the Wolf?


How did the villagers react after tasting the water of the magic waterfall?


What is the central idea of the poem, John Brown?


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