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प्रश्न
Write ‘True’ or ‘False’ against each of the following sentences.
Gopal was too poor to afford decent clothes.________
पर्याय
True
False
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उत्तर
Gopal was too poor to afford decent clothes - False.
APPEARS IN
संबंधित प्रश्न
Thinking about the Text
On the following map mark out the route, which the author thought of but did not take, to Delhi.
Irony is when we say one thing but mean another, usually the opposite of what we say. When someone makes a mistake and you say, Oh! That was clever!” that is irony. You’re saying ‘clever’ to mean ‘not clever’.
Expressions we often use in an ironic fashion are:
• Oh, wasn’t that clever!/Oh that was clever!
• You have been a great help, I must say!
• You’ve got yourself into a lovely mess, haven’t you?
• Oh, very funny!/How funny!
We use a slightly different tone of voice when we use these words ironically.
Read the play carefully and find the words and expressions Gerrard uses in an ironic way.
Then say what these expressions really mean. Two examples have been given below.
Write down three such expressions along with what they really mean.
| What the author says | What he means |
| Why, this is a surprise, Mr – er – |
He pretends that the intruder is a social visitor whom he is welcoming. In this way he hides his fear. |
| At last a sympathetic audience! | He pretends that the intruder wants to listen to him, whereas actually the intruder wants to find out information for his own use. |
“A slumber did my spirit seal,” says the poet. That is, a deep sleep ‘closed off’ his soul (or mind). How does the poet react to his loved one’s death? Does he feel bitter grief? Or does he feel a great peace?
Look at these words:
...peace comes dropping slow
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings
What do these words mean to you? What do you think “comes dropping slow...from the veils of the morning”? What does “to where the cricket sings” mean?
Read the newspaper clipping.
Listen to an interview between the police inspector in charge of the case, the housekeeper, Ms. Lakshmi and the watchman, Ram Singh. As you listen, note down the details of the burglar.
Inspector: Hello, madam. I am Inspector Maan Singh. I am in charge of the burglary
case which occurred in the flat of your employer, Mr. Ravikant. It must have
been a harrowing experience for you.
Lakshmi: Yes, it was a terrible experience. People like that should be locked up in a
prison.
Inspector: If you will cooperate with us, we will catch them in no time. Were you alone
in the apartment at that time?
Lakshmi: Yes, it was 11 :30 in the night and I was alone as my master and his wife had
left for Shimla.
Inspector: How do you think the burglar gained entry into the house?
Lakshmi: He might have come through the balcony and entered my room.
Inspector: Now tell me something about his physique. What about his build? How tall
was he?
Lakshmi: He was about 6 ft tall.
Inspector: What about his physique?
Lakshmi: He was not thin. He was well-built and rather plump.
Inspector: What about his dress? What was he wearing?
Lakshmi: I think his clothes were rather old and faded. He was wearing a black shirt
which was faded.
Inspector: Do you remember the colour of his trousers?
Lakshmi: They were of a dark shade -either black or blue.
Inspector: Can you tell me something about his face?
Lakshmi: Unfortunately no. When he entered my room I panicked. But then I
gathered courage and screamed and tried to run away. But I was a bit late.
He struck me with a staff and I really don't remember anything after that.
May be I was knocked out.
Later on, I came to know that he broke into the bedroom and ran off with the
jewellery. But Ram Singh, the watchman, who tried to catch him may be
able to describe him better.
Inspector: OK Lakshmi, thank you! If I need your help I will come again. You may have
to identify the burglar. Now, I will speak to Ram Singh.
Inspector to Ram Singh:
Ram Singh you were on duty and you tried to catch the burglar. You may be
able to give a good description of him. First, tell me about his hair.
Ram Singh: He had straight black hair.
Inspector: What about the shape of his face and his complexion?
Ram Singh: He had an oval face with grey eyes and I think he was dark complexioned.
Inspector: Did he wear spectacles?
Ram Singh: Yes, with a plastic frame and his nose was rather sharp.
Inspector: What else can you remember about him? What about his teeth and lips?
Ram Singh: His lips were quite thick.
Inspector: Is there anything else that you remember about him?
Ram Singh: When I heard some noise from inside, I ran in. I tried to stop the burglar and
we had a scuffie. During the struggle I noticed that he had six fingers on his
right hand. But he managed to run away and made good his escape on a
motorbike.
Inspector: Thank you Ram Singh. We will make sketches on the basis of your
description and nab him.
| DESCRIPTION | |
| Built | |
| Height | |
| Clothes | |
| Shape of the face | |
| Complexion | |
| Eyes | |
| Hair | |
| Nose | |
| Lips | |
| Teeths | |
| Special Features |
You can find more information about Robert Frost at the following websites.
http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?prmID=1961.
Hear the poet (who died almost forty years ago!) reading the poem at
http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm ?prmID= 1645
To view a beautiful New England scene with each poem on this web site: "Illustrated
Poetry of Robert Frost":
http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Olympus/1487/index.html
Of the seven hundred villages dotting the map of India, in which the majority of India’s five hundred million live, flourish and die, Kritam was probably the tiniest, indicated on the district survey map by a microscopic dot, the map being meant more for the revenue official out to collect tax than for the guidance of the motorist, who in any case could not hope to reach it since it sprawled far from the highway at the end of a rough track furrowed up by the iron-hooped wheels of bullock carts. But its size did not prevent its giving itself the grandiose name Kritam, which meant in Tamil coronet or crown on the brow of the subcontinent. The village consisted of fewer than thirty houses, only one of them built from brick and cement and painted a brilliant yellow and blue all over with
gorgeous carvings of gods and gargoyles on its balustrade, it was known as the Big House. The other houses, distributed in four streets, were generally of bamboo thatch, straw, mud and other unspecified material. Muni’s was the last house in the fourth street, beyond which stretched the fields. In his prosperous days Muni had owned a flock of sheep and goats and sallied forth every morning driving the flock to the highway a couple of miles away.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
How many houses were there in the village?
He flungs himself down in a corner to recoup from the fatigue of his visit to the shop. His wife said, “You are getting no sauce today, nor anything else. I can’t find anything to give you to eat. Fast till the evening, it’ll do you good. Take the goats and be gone now,” she cried and added, “Don’t come back before the sun is down.”
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
How much money did Muni owe to the shopkeeper?
At Denver there was an influx of passengers into the coaches on the eastbound B. & M. express. In one coach there sat a very pretty young woman dressed in elegant taste and surrounded by all the luxurious comforts of an experienced traveler. Among the newcomers were two young men, one of handsome presence with a bold, frank countenance and manner; the other a ruffled, glum-faced person, heavily built and roughly dressed. The two were handcuffed together.
As they passed down the aisle of the coach the only vacant seat offered was a reversed one facing the attractive young woman. Here the linked couple seated themselves. The young woman’s glance fell upon them with a distant, swift disinterest; then with a lovely smile brightening her countenance and a tender pink tingeing her rounded cheeks, she held out a little gray-gloved hand. When she spoke her voice, full, sweet, and deliberate, proclaimed that its owner was accustomed to speak and be heard.
“Well, Mr. Easton, if you will make me speak first, 1 suppose 1 must. Don’t vou ever recognize old friends when you meet them in the West?”
The younger man roused himself sharply at the sound of her voice, seemed to struggle with a slight embarrassment which he threw off instantly, and then clasped her fingers with his left hand.
He slightly raised his right hand, bound at the wrist by the shining “bracelet” to the left one of his companion.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
Why was Mr Easton embarrassed when the young woman recognised him?
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.
Why did the torch fall from Mr Oliver’s hand? Why was his hand trembling?
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.”
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
Who offered to take John? Why?
Then there it lay in her wet palm, perfect, even pierced ready for use, with the sunset shuffled about inside it like gold—?dust. All her heart went up in flames of joy. After a bit she twisted it into the top of her skirt against her tummy so she would know if it burst through the poor cloth and fell. Then she picked up her fork and sickle and the heavy grass and set off home. Ai! Ai! What a day! Her barefeet smudged out the wriggle— ?mark of snakes in the dust; there was the thin singing of malaria mosquitoes among the trees now; and this track was much used at night by a morose old makna elephant—the Tuskless One; but Sibia was not thinking of any of them. The stars came out: she did not notice. On the way back she met her mother, out of breath, come to look for her, and scolding. “I did not see till I was home, that you were not there. I thought something must have happened to you.” And Sibia, bursting with her story, cried “Something did). I found a blue bead for my necklace, look!”
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
Why did Sibia feel overjoyed?
So after that, dimly, dimly, she sensed it, she was different and they knew her difference and kept away. There was talk that her father and mother were taking her back to Earth next year; it seemed vital to her that they do so, though it would mean the loss of thousands of dollars to her family. And so, the children hated her for all these reasons of big and little consequence. They hated her pale snow face, her waiting silence, her thinness, and her possible future. “Get away 1” The boy gave her another push. “What’re you waiting for?”Then, for the first time, she turned and looked at him. And what she was waiting for was in her eyes. “Well, don’t wait around here !” cried the boy savagely. “You won’t see nothing!” Her lips moved. “Nothing 1” he cried. “It was all a joke, wasn’t it?” He turned to the other children. “Nothing’s happening today. Is it ?”
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
What was the rumour? What did Margot think?
What is the moral of the story, elaborate it.
Why did the wicked couple drop their tools?
Why did the narrator climb the trees?
Is there a “talking fan’ in your house? Create a dialogue between the fan and a mechanic.
Answer the following question:
Where was Kalpana Chawla born? Why is she called an Indian – American?
Who was the bearded man?
What event were the children in Ray Bradbury’s story, ‘All Summer in a Day’ eagerly awaiting?
