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प्रश्न
Where was Caesar put to death?
पर्याय
On a street in Rome
On the battleground of Philippi
At the foot of Pompey's statue
In Brutus’ orchard
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उत्तर
At the foot of Pompey's statue
APPEARS IN
संबंधित प्रश्न
Thinking about the Text
Given below are some emotions that Kezia felt. Match the emotions in Column A with
the items in Column B.
| A | B |
| 1. Fear or terror | (i) Father comes into her room to give her a goodbye kiss |
| 2. glad sense of relief | (ii) Noise of the carriage grows fainter |
| 3. a “funny” feeling, perhaps of understanding |
(iii) Father comes home |
| (iv) Speaking to father | |
| (v) Going to bed when alone at home | |
| (vi) Father comforts her and falls asleep | |
| (vii) Father stretched out on the safa. snoring |
'Ordeal in the Ocean' is the story of Slava Kurilov, a Russian, who faced a remarkable trial in the water. Slava Kurilov tells his own story. Read on .......
When the liner had finally vanished over the horizon, I was absolutely alone in the stormy night sea. First I thought I had to swim one way, then another. It was not even midnight yet, and I had no hope at all of finding my way in this terrible night time ocean. I began to feel afraid. Waves of fear rolled through me, starting from my hands and feet, attacking my heart and then reaching through my neck to my head. Waves broke over me and water went into my snorkel. I realised I would not be able to last even half an hour in such a condition.
I saw individual stars, but I could not distinguish the constellations they belonged to. Then dawn came and put out all my stars and I felt my solitude more keenly. The sky was grey at first, then blue-violet shades appeared. In a few minutes, the colours became brighter, with dark red strips cutting across the sky!
The rising sun came up over the ocean. I was surrounded by large waves. The clouds turned pink and swept across the sky in all directions. It was a windy day.
There was no land visible. I grew alarmed. Had I made a mistake in my calculations? Perhaps the current had carried me a long a way off the course during the night?
An hour passed, perhaps two. "Landlll" I could not deny myself the pleasure of shouting the magic word aloud and of hearing my own voice. Perhaps it was my ghostly island of Siargao? I almost felt I had succeeded - now at least I had hope.
The sun looked out for the last time, as if it was saying goodbye to me, and hid itself away again. In a few minutes the sky was filled with all the colours of a rainbow, the bright shades changing and merging as I watched. At first the clouds became deep red and then their edges turned bright orange. A little while afterwards, the clouds turned lilac and dark violet. Darkness fell swiftly. My second lonely night in the ocean began. The stars came out unnoticed. I changed course and headed for the south west. As it turned out, this was an unforgivable mistake.
Evening was approaching. The ocean around me was full of life; large fish often leapt out of the water and big birds flew right above my head. I could see the island distinctly now. A line of dancing palms stretched the length of its shore. The sides of the mountain were covered in many different shades of green.
An hour passed, perhaps more. It was extraordinarily quiet. Then suddenly to my horror, I discovered my island had noticeably begun to move north and was drifting further and further in that direction right before my eyes. Before I had worked out what was happening and could sharply change my course towards the north, the southern tip of the island had appeared in front of me and, beyond that, open ocean stretched to the very horizon. I was totally at the mercy of the current and realised to my alarm that it was slowly carrying me past the land.
My third night in the ocean crept up unnoticed. This third night in the ocean was very dark, much darker than the two previous ones. I almost decided to die as I had no hope of seeing another dawn. I was suddenly aware of a quiet voice: "Swim to the sound of the breakers."
Indeed, there had been a distant rumbling for some time, although I had paid no attention to it. Now, I started listening and I thought it sounded like the characteristic noise of jet aeroplanes constantly landing and taking off. The voice inside kept insisting that I should swim towards this thunder of waves.
At last I obeyed. Again I heard an approaching rumble. What I suddenly saw at a distance of about 30 or 40 metres has imprinted itself on my memory forever. It was a gigantic wave with steep, very slowly falling crests. Never in my life had I seen such an enormous wave - it even seemed to be touching the sky. It moved very slowly and was fantastically beautiful.
The wave did not break over me as I assumed it would. An irresistible force dragged me up its steep slope right to the very foot of the falling crest. Instinctively I clutched my mask snorkel and managed to take a deep breath. The crest started to break over me and pulled me under it. For a moment, I found myself in the air
under the crest as ifin a cave. Then my body was in a swirling current of water; the inner power of the wave made me recover several times, twisting me in all directions before it subsided.
I realised that I had to try to keep my body on the crest and I quickly took up a horizontal position. This time the wave quickly grabbed me and carried me at great speed for quite a long distance on its crest.
I got up to the surface easily and swam in the direction the waves were heading. "Somewhere there, beyond the reef, there should be a lagoon," I hoped.
Suddenly, I felt something hard under my feet. I could stand up to my chest in water! Around me I could see random currents of water, splashes of foam and phosphorescent spray, all swirling about. Before I fully came to my senses, another large wave approached and carried me some distance further. I was up to my waist in water when a new wave picked me up, taldng me several metres forward. Now the depth of the water was only up to my knees. I had enough time to take a few tentative steps, to catch my breath and look around.
I surfaced at the foot of very tall palm trees. I left a trail of luminous water and my body glittered like some princess's ball-gown. Only now did I feel completely safe. The ocean was behind me ....
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.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
How do the tribal men regard the ashes of their ancestors?
She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the light shone round her; in the brightness stood her old grandmother, clear and shining, yet mild and loving in her appearance. “Grandmother,” cried the little one, “O take me with you; I know you will go away when the match burns out; you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and the large, glorious Christmas-tree.” And she made haste to light the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother there. And the matches glowed with a light that was brighter than the noon-day, and her grandmother had never appeared so large or so beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and they both flew upwards in brightness and joy far above the earth, where there was neither cold nor hunger nor pain, for they were with God.
In the dawn of morning there lay the poor little one, with pale cheeks and smiling mouth, leaning against the wall; she had been frozen to death on the last evening of the year; and the New-year’s sun rose and shone upon a little corpse! The child still sat, in the stiffness of death, holding the matches in her hand, one bundle of which was burnt. “She tried to warm herself,” said some. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, nor into what glory she had entered with her grandmother, on New-year’s day.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
What happened to the little girl? What did the people think?
How did Mr Wonka collected all those ancient items?
Do you agree with what the poet says? Talk to your partner and complete these sentences.
(i) A house is made of ____________.
(ii) It has ____________.
(iii) A home is made by ____________.
(iv) It has ____________.
What did Miss Beam tell the author about the game being played among the friends?
Your partner and you may now be able to answer the question.
The speaker in this poem is a school-going child. Every day he happens to meet the hawker selling bangles, the gardener digging away at the garden, and the watchman walking the street all night.
Who does not like the rebels?
The Medicine Bag traces the narrator’s attitude to his Sioux Grandfather, from mild embarrassment to appreciation. Summarise the reasons for this embarrassment and the change. Write your answer in 100-150 words incorporating the following details.
- Reasons for embarrassment
- Specific reasons for the change in attitude
