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Question
Answer the following question
Whom does Golu ask, “Why don’t you ever fly like other birds?”
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Solution
Golu asks his tall aunt, the ostrich, why she doesn't ever fly like other birds.
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1. I first met Private Quelch at the training depot. A man is liable to acquire in his firs week of Army life - together with his uniform, rifle and equipment- a nickname. Anyone who saw Private Quelch, lanky, stooping, frowning through horn-rimmed spectacles, understood why he was known as the Professor. Those who had any doubts on the subject lost them after five minutes' conversation with him.
2. I remember the first lesson we had in musketry. We stood in an attentive circle while a Sergeant, a man as dark and sun-dried as raisins, wearing North-West Frontier ribbons, described the mechanism of a service rifle.
3. "The muzzle velocity or speed at which the bullet leaves the rifle", he told us, "is
well over two thousand feet per second."
4. A voice interrupted. "Two thousand, four hundred and forty feet per second." It
was the Professor.
5. "That's right," the Sergeant said without enthusiasm, and went on lecturing. When he had finished, he asked us questions; and, perhaps in the hope of revenge, he turned with his questions again and again to the Professor. The only result was to enhance the Professor's glory. Technical definitions, the parts of a rifle, its use and care, he had them all by heart.
6. The Sergeant asked, "Have you had any training before?"
7. The Professor answered with a phrase that was to become familiar to all of us. "No, Sergeant. It's all a matter of intelligent reading."
8. That was our introduction to him. We soon learned more about him. He saw to that. He meant to get on, he told us. He had the brains. He was sure to get a commission, before long. As a first step, he meant to get a stripe.
9. In pursuit of his ambition he worked hard. We had to give him credit for that. He borrowed training manuals and stayed up late at nights reading them. He badgered the instructors with questions. He drilled with enthusiasm, and on route marches he was not only miraculously tireless but infuriated us all with his horrible heartiness. "What about a song, chaps?" is not greeted politely at the end of thirty miles. His salute at the pay table was a model to behold. When officers were in sight he would swing his skinny arms and march to the canteen like a Guardsman.
10. And day in and day out, he lectured to us in his droning, remorseless voice on every aspect of human knowledge. At first we had a certain respect for him, but soon we lived in terror of his approach. We tried to hit back at him with clumsy sarcasms and practical jokes. The Professor scarcely noticed; he was too busy working for his stripe.
11. Each time one of us made a mistake the Professor would publicly correct him. Whenever one of us shone, the Professor outshone him. When, after a hard morning's work of cleaning out our hut, we listened in silence to the Orderly Officer's praise, the Professor would break out with a ringing, dutifully beaming, "Thank you, sir!" And how superior, how condescending he was. It was always,
"Let me show you, fellow," or, "No, you'll ruin your rifle that way, old man."
12. We used to pride ourselves on aircraft recognition. Once, out for a walk, we heard the drone of a plane flying high overhead. None of us could even see it in the glare of the sun. Without even a glance upward the Professor announced, "That, of course, is a North American Harvard Trainer. It can be unmistakably identified by the harsh engine note, due to the high tip speed of the airscrew."
What could a gang of louts like us do with a man like that? 13. None of us will ever forget the
drowsy summer afternoon which was such a turning-point in the Professor's life.
14. We were sprawling contentedly on the warm grass while Corporal Turnbull was taking a lesson on the hand grenade.
15. Corporal Turnbull was a young man, but he was not a man to be trifled with. He had come back from Dunkirk with all his equipment correct and accounted for and his kitten in his pocket. He was
our hero, and we used to tell each other that he was so tough that you could hammer nails into him without his noticing it.
16. _"The outside of a grenade, as you can see," Corporal Turnbull was saying, "is divided up into a large number of fragments to assist segmentation"
17. "Forty-four"
18. "What's that?" The Corporal looked over his shoulder
19. "Forty-four segments." The Professor beamed at him.
20. The Corporal said nothing, but his brow tightened. He opened his mouth to
resume.
21. "And by the way, Corporal." We were all thunder-struck.
22. The Professor was speaking again. "Shouldn't you have started off with the five characteristics of the grenade? Our instructor at the other camp always used to do that, you know."
23. In the silence that followed a dark flush stained the tan of the Corporal's face. "Here," he said at last, "you give this lecture". As if afraid to say any more, he tossed the grenade to the Professor. Quite unabashed, Private Quelch climbed to his feet and with the attitude of a man coming into his birth-right gave us an unexceptionable lecture on the grenade.
24. The squad listened in a cowed, horrified kind of silence. Corporal Turnbull stood and watched, impassive, except for a searching intentness of gaze. When the lecture was finished he said, "Thank you, Private Quelch. Fall in with the others now." He did not speak again until we had fallen in and were waiting to be dismissed. Then he addressed us. 25. "As some of you may have heard," he began deliberately, "the platoon officer has asked me to nominate one of you for…." He paused and looked lingeringly up and down the ranks as if seeking final confirmation of decision.
26. So this was the great moment! Most of us could not help glancing at Private Quelch, who stood rigidly to attention and stared straight in front of him with an expression of self-conscious innocence.
27. ______"…..for permanent cookhouse duties, I've decided that Private Quelch is just the man for the job."
28. Of course, it was a joke for days afterwards; a joke and joy to all of us.
29. I remember, though.............
30. My friend Trower and I were talking about it a few days later. We were returning from the canteen to our own hut.
31. Through the open door, we could see the three cooks standing against the wall as if at bay; and from within came the monotonous beat of a familiar voice.
32. "Really. I must protest against this abominably unscientific and unhygienic method of peeling potatoes. I need to only draw your attention to the sheer waste of vitamin values.............."
33. We fled.
About the Author
Alexander Baron (1917-1999) has written many novels, including 'There's no Home',
' The Human Kind', 'Queen of the East', 'Seeing Life' and The How Life', along with
film scripts and television plays. He started life as an Asstt. Editor of The Tribune and
later edited the 'New Theater.' He served in the army during the Second World War.
'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 ....
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.
Read the above lines and answer the question that follow.
Explain with reference to the context.
Mrs. Thompson did not reply, but presently turned towards the little chamber where her husband had deposited Maggie; and, pushing open the door, went quietly in. Joe did not follow; he saw that, her state had changed, and felt that it would be best to leave her alone with the child. So he went to his shop, which stood near the house, and worked until dusky evening released him from labor. A light shining through the little chamber windows was the first object that attracted Joe’s attention on turning towards the house: it was a good omen. The path led him by this windows and, when opposite, he could not help pausing to look in. It was now dark enough outside to screen him from observation. Maggie lay, a little raised on the pillow with the lamp shining full upon her face. Mrs. Thompson was sitting by the bed, talking to the child; but her back was towards the window, so that her countenance was not seen. From Maggie’s face, therefore, Joe must read the character of their intercourse. He saw that her eyes were intently fixed upon his wife; that now and then a few words came, as if in answers from her lips; that her expression was sad and tender; but he saw nothing of bitterness or pain. A deep-drawn breath was followed by one of relief, as a weight lifted itself from his heart.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
What did Joe see from the window?
What information does Gilman give to Twisden? Why did Twisden decide to withdraw from the case ?
According to Charlie, what lives the longest.
What are the functions of feelers or antennae for an ant?
Which was the toughest part of the bicycle that the author’s friend found the toughest to fix?
What happened to the ball bearings?
Why was it necessary to train Kari to he good?
How did the rishi explain the different ways in which the birds behaved?
This pahalwan had but one shortcoming. What was that?
How did Patrick get supernatural help? Was the elf intelligent enough to answer questions in all the subjects?
How did Taro manage to meet the demand of his father?
How did the villagers react after tasting the water of the magic waterfall?
How does the child compare his own daily activities with that of his teacher?
Who went the other way?
Why does the rebel demand for the rain when everybody is praising the sun?
