SSC (English Medium) इयत्ता १० वी - Maharashtra State Board Question Bank Solutions

When the king arrived, the hermit was digging the ground in front of his hut. He greeted the king but went on digging. The hermit was frail and weak, and each time he struck the ground with the spade and turned over a little earth, he breathed heavily. The king went up to him and said, “I have come to you, wise hermit, to ask you to answer three questions - How can I learn to do the right thing at the right time? Who are the people I most need, and to whom should I, therefore, pay most attention? And what affairs are the most important and need my first attention?”

The hermit listened to the king but said nothing. He just spat on his hand and resumed digging. The king watched in silence for a while. Then, feeling sorry for the hermit, he said, “You are tired, let me take the spade and work awhile for you.” The hermit silently handed over the spade and sat down on the ground. When he had dug two beds, the king stopped and repeated his questions.

(4) Intelligent

Kom was born in Kangthei village, Moirang Lamkhai in the Churachandpur district of rural Manipur in eastern India. She came from a poor family. Her parents, Mangte Tonpa Kom and Mangte Akham Kom were tenant farmers who worked in jhms fields. Kom grew up in humble surroundings, helping her parents with farm-related chores, going to school, and learning athletics initially and later boxing simultaneously. Her father was a keen wrestler at his younger age.

She had an eager interest in athletics since childhood and the success of Dingko Singh a fellow Manipuri returned from the 1998 Bangkok Asian Games with a gold medal, Kom recollects had inspired many youngsters in Manipur to try boxing and she too thought of giving it a try.

Mary Kom’s career started in 2000 after her victory in the Manipur state women’s boxing championship and the regional championship in West Bengal. In 2001, she started competing at the international level. She was only 18 years old when she made her international debut at the first AIBA Women’s World Boxing Championship in the United States, winning a silver medal in the 48 kg weight category. Her greatness is reinforced by the way she apologized to the whole nation for not being able to win the Gold. She is a legend for sure and an idol for all the sportswomen to look up to.

Although the idea of protecting cultural and natural heritage sites around the world began in the early twentieth century, momentum for its actual creation was not until the 1950s. In 1954, Egypt started plans to build the Aswan High Dam to collect and control water from the Nile River. The initial plan for the dam's construction would have flooded the valley containing the Abu Simbel Temples and scores of ancient Egyptian artefacts. To protect the temples and artefacts, UNESCO launched an international campaign in 1959 that called for the dismantling and movement of the temples to higher ground. The project cost an estimated US $80 million, $40 million of which came from 50 different countries. Because of the project's success, UNESCO and the International Council on Monuments and Sites initiated a draft convention to create an international organisation responsible for protecting cultural heritage.

Shortly thereafter in 1965, a White House Conference in the United States called for a "World Heritage Trust" to protect historic and cultural sites but to also protect the world's significant natural and scenic sites. Finally, in 1968, the International Union for Conservation of Nature developed similar goals and presented them at the United Nations Conference on Human Environment in Stockholm, Sweden in 1972. Following the presentation of these goals, the Convention concerning the Protecting of World Cultural and Natural Heritage was adopted by UNESCO's, General Conference on November 16, 1972.

Night of the Scorpion

I remember the night my mother
was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours
of steady rain had driven him
to crawl beneath a sack of rice.
Parting with his poison - flash
of diabolic tail in the dark room -
he risked the rain again.
The peasants came like swarms of flies
And buzzed the name of God a hundred times
to paralyse the Evil One.
With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the mud-baked walls
they searched for him: he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made his poison
moved in Mother's blood, they said.
May he sit still, they said
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of all evil
balanced in this unreal world
against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh
of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.
More candles, more lanterns, more neighbours,
more insects, and endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through,
groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin
upon the bitten toe and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother.
I watched the holy man perform his rites to tame the
poison with an incantation.
After twenty hours
it lost its sting.
My mother only said
Thank God the scorpion picked on me
And spared my children.

Friends, we can do this. Governments must make child-friendly policies, and invest in education and young people. Businesses must be more responsible, accountable and open to innovative partnerships. Intergovernmental agencies must work together to accelerate action. Global civil society must rise above the business-as-usual and fragmented agendas. Faith leaders and institutions, and all of us must stand with our children.

We must be bold, we must be ambitious and we must have the will. We must keep our promises.
Over fifty years ago, on the first day of my school, I met a cobbler boy of my age sitting outside the gate of my school. I asked my teachers: "Why is he working outside? Why is he not with us in the school?" My teachers had no answer. One day, I gathered the courage to ask the boy's father. He said: "Sir, I have never thought about it. We are poor, we are born to work."
His answer made me angry. It still makes me angry.
As a child, I had a vision of tomorrow. A vision of that cobbler boy sitting with me in my classroom. Now, that tomorrow has become TODAY.
I am TODAY, and you are TODAY. TODAY it is time for every child to have a right to life, right to freedom, right to health, right to education, right to safety, right to dignity, right to equality, and right to peace.
TODAY, beyond the darkness, I see the smiling faces of our children in the blinking stars. TODAY, in every wave of every ocean, I see my children are playing and dancing. TODAY, in every plant, in every tree, and mountain, I see our children growing freely with dignity.
Friends, I want you to see and feel this TODAY inside you.
My dear sisters and brothers, as I said many interesting things are happening today. May I please request you to put your hand close to your heart - close your eyes and feel the child inside you?
I am sure you can - Now, listen to that child. Listen, please.
Today, I see, thousands of Mahatma Gandhis, Nelson Mandelas and Martin Luther Kings calling on us. Let us democratise knowledge. Let us universalise justice. Together, let us globalise compassion!
I call upon you in this room, and all across the world. I call for a march from exploitation to education. I call for a march from poverty to shared prosperity, a march from slavery to liberty, and a march from violence to peace.
Let us march from ignorance to awakening. Let us march from darkness to light. Let us march from mortality to divinity.
Let us march!

I caught sight of her at the play and in answer to her call, I went over during the interval and sat down beside her. It was long since I had last seen her. If someone had not mentioned her name, I hardly think I would have recognised her. She addressed me brightly.

"Well, it's many years since we first met. How time does fly! We're? Do you remember the first time I saw you? You asked me to luncheon."

Did remember?

It was twenty years ago and I was living in Paris. I had a tiny apartment and I was earning barely enough money. She had read a book of mine and had written to me about it. I answered, thanking her, and presently, I received from her another letter saying she was passing through Paris and would like to have a chat with me. But her time was limited and the only free moment she had was on the following Thursday and would I give her a little luncheon at Foyot's afterward? Foyot's is a restaurant and it was so far beyond my means that I had never thought of going there. I had eighty francs (gold £ranees) to last me the rest of the month and a modest luncheon should not cost more than fifteen. If I cut out coffee for the next two weeks, I could manage well enough.

I ans':Vered that I would meet my friend at Foyot's on Thursday at half-past twelve. She was, in appearance, imposing rather than attractive and she gave me the impression of having more teeth, white and large and even, than were necessary for any practical purpose. She was talkative, but since she seemed to want to talk about me, I was prepared to be an attentive listener.

I was startled when the menu was brought, for the prices were a great deal higher than I had thought. But she reassured me.

"I never eat anything for luncheon," she said.
"Oh, don't say that !" I answered generously.
"I never eat more than one thing. I think people eat for too much now-a-days. A little fish, perhaps. I wonder if they have any salmon."
Well, it was early in the year for salmon and it was not on the menu, but I asked the waiter if there was any. Yes, a beautiful salmon had just come in -it was the first they had. I ordered it for my guest. The waiter asked her if she would have something while it was being cooked. "No," she answered, "I never eat more than one thing. Unless you had a little caviar. I never mind caviar."
I knew I could not afford caviar, but could not very well tell her that. For myself, I chose the cheapest dish on the menu and that was a mutton chop.
"I think you're unwise to eat meat" she said. "I don't believe in overloading my stomach."

Meanwhile, the sun had set and it had become cool. So the king, with the hermit's help, carried the wounded man into the hut. The man lay there quietly with his eyes closed. By now, the king was so tired after his walk and the work he had done, that he laid down himself and soon fell asleep. When he awoke in the morning, it took him some time to remember where he was and who was the strange bearded man lying by his side and gazing intently at him. "Forgive me!" said the bearded man in a weak voice, when he saw that the king was awake and was looking at him. "I do not know you, and I've nothing to forgive you for", said the king.

"You do not know me, but I know you. I am that enemy of yours who swore to revenge himself on you because you executed his brother and seized his property. I knew you had gone alone to see the hermit, and I resolved to kill you on your way back. But the day passed and you did not return. So I came out of my ambush to find you. Your bodyguards recognized me and wounded me. I escaped from them but would have bled to death had you not dressed my wound. I wished to kill you but you have saved my life. Now it I live, and if you wish it, I'll serve you all my life."

The king was very glad to have made peace with an enemy so easily and to have gained him for a friend. He not only forgave him but also said that he would send his men and his own physician to attend to him. The king then took leave of him and went out of the hut to look for the hermit.

With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the mud-baked walls
they searched for him : he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made his poison
moved in Mother's blood, they said.
May he sit still, they said
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of all evil
balanced in this unreal world
against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh
of desire, and your spirit of ambition
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.

-Nissim Ezekiel

I think I could tum and live with animals, they are
so placid and self-contain'd
I stand and look at them long and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with
the mania of owning things.
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that
lived thousands of years ago,
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.
So they show their relations to me and I accept them,
They bring me tokens of myself, they evince
them plainly in their possession
I wonder where they get those tokens,
Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop them?

-Walt Whitman

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching : yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves a way the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms :
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read :
An endless fountain of immortal drink
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast,
That, whether there be shine, or gloom o'ercast
They always must be with us, or we die.

- John Keats