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Question
How did Vijay Singh outwit the ghost with his wit and wisdom?
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Solution
Vijay Singh made good use of the old woman’s gift—an egg and a lump of salt. He challenged the ghost to squeeze a piece of rock. The ghost failed to do that. Vijay Singh took out the egg from his pocket and squeezed it easily. The ghost was non-plussed and he accepted defeat. Vijay Singh then threw another challenge. He gave another piece of rock to the ghost to crush. The ghost failed to crush the rock. Vijay Singh took out the piece of salt from his pocket and smashed it easily. The ghost felt demoralised and again accepted his defeat.
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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.
Why do the dead of the Tribals never forget them or this beautiful world?
He looked at me very blankly and tiredly, and then said, having to share his worry with someone, “The cat will be all right, I am sure. There is no need to be unquiet about the cat. But the others. Now what do you think about the others?”
“Why they’ll probably come through it all right.”
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“Why not,” I said, watching the far bank where now there were no carts.
“But what will they do under the artillery when I was told to leave because of the artillery?”
“Did you leave the dove cage unlocked?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Then they’ll fly.”
“Yes, certainly they’ll fly. But the others. It’s better not to think about the others,” he said.
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Why is the old man not worried about the birds?
Unleashing the goats from the drumstick tree, Muni started out, driving them ahead and uttering weird cries from time to time in order to urge them on. Me passed through the village with his head bowed in thought. He did not want to look at anyone or be accosted. A couple of cronies lounging in the temple corridor hailed him, but he ignored their call. They had known him in the days of affluence when he lorded over a flock of fleecy sheep, not the miserable grawky goats that he had today.
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What did Muni do to urge the goats to move on?
“Jane,” said the wheelwright, with an impressiveness of tone that greatly subdued his wife, “I read in the Bible sometimes, and find much said about little children. How the Savior rebuked the disciples who would not receive them; how he took them up in his arms, and blessed them; and how he said that ‘whosoever gave them even a cup of cold water should not go unrewarded.’ Now, it is a small thing for us to keep this poor motherless little one for a single night; to be kind to her for a single night; to make her life comfortable for a single night.”
The voice of the strong, rough man shook, and he turned his head away, so that the moisture in his eyes might not be seen. Mrs. Thompson did not answer, but a soft feeling crept into her heart.
“Look at her kindly, Jane; speak to her kindly,” said Joe. “Think of her dead mother, and the loneliness, the pain, the sorrow that must be on all her coming life.” The softness of his heart gave unwonted eloquence to his lips.
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What did Joe say to his wife?
After washing from his hands and face the dust and soil of work, Joe left the kitchen, and went to the little bedroom. A pair of large bright eyes looked up at him from the snowy bed; looked at him tenderly, gratefully, pleadingly. How his heart swelled in his bosom! With what a quicker motion came the heart-beats! Joe sat down, and now, for the first time, examining the thin free carefully under the lamp light, saw that it was an attractive face, and full of a childish sweetness which suffering had not been able to obliterate.
“Your name is Maggie?” he said, as he sat down and took her soft little hand in his.
“Yes, sir.” Her voice struck a chord that quivered in a low strain of music.
“Have you been sick long?”
“Yes, sir.” What a sweet patience was in her tone!
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“He used to come”
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“No, sir.”
Read the extract given below and answer the questions that follow.
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Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening— the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.
One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing. She crept along trembling with cold and hunger—a very picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!
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Does the author give us a glimpse into the Victorian society?
From the day, perhaps a hundred years ago when he sun had hatched him in a sandbank, and he had broken his shell, and got his head out and looked around, ready to snap at anything, before he was even fully hatched-from that day, when he had at once made for the water, ready to fend for himself immediately, he had lived by his brainless craft and ferocity. Escaping the birds of prey and the great carnivorous fishes that eat baby crocodiles, he has prospered, catching all the food he needed, and storing it till putrid in holes in the bank. Tepid water to live in and plenty of rotted food grew him to his great length. Now nothing could pierce the inch-?thick armoured hide. Not even rifle bullets,
which would bounce off. Only the eyes and the soft underarms offered a place. He lived well in the river, sunning himself sometimes with other crocodiles-muggers, as well as the long-? snouted fish-?eating gharials-on warm rocks and sandbanks where the sun dried the clay on them quite white, and where they could plop off into the water in a moment if alarmed. The big crocodile fed mostly on fish, but also on deer and monkeys come to drink, perhaps a duck or two.
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What did the big crocodile feed on?
Describe the professional rivalry and professional friendship of Owens and Long.
“Have you children...” she began, and then, seeing they were curiously quiet, went on more slowly, “seen anyone lurking around the verandah?”
(i) What do you think Rukku Manni really wanted to ask?
(ii) Why did she change her question?
(iii) What did she think had happened?
Why did the king refuse to give reward to anyone?
Describe Nishad as a child.
Can you recall the word used for a cobra’s long sharp teeth? Where did you come across this word first?
Write True or False against the following statement.
Peter is an only child.
Fill in the blank to name a different kind of intelligence. One has been done for you.
When I enjoy listening to people and solving their problems I use my interpersonal intelligence
When I enjoy dancing or physical activity, I use my ____________ intelligence.
What do you think, the rebel doesn’t like?
The short story 'The Little Match Girl' can be called a fairy tale because ______.
Read the following extract from Norah Burke's short story, ‘The Blue Bead' and answer the questions that follow:
|
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!" |
- What are the tasks that Sibia was required to perform from a very young age? [3]
- What had delayed Sibia and separated her from the other village women on her way home that day?
What was Sibia doing when she heard the Gujar woman's cry for help? [3] - What were the dangers that the crocodile had to overcome before it could grow into the ferocious creature that Sibia encountered? [3]
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How does Sibia’s knowledge of the ways of the jungle help her fight the crocodile? [3]
-
Compare and contrast the mother’s mood with Sibia's in the given extract. Give one reason to explain why each one of them was feeling this way. [4]
