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Question
“...Mr. Purcell heard it no more than he would have heard the monotonous ticking of a familiar clock.” (Read para beginning with “It was a rough day...”)
(i)What does ‘it’ refer to?
(ii) Why does Mr. Purcell not hear ‘it’ clearly?
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Solution
(i) Here, ‘it’ refers to the chirping, squeaking and mewing of the birds and animals in the shop.
(ii) Mr. Purcell did not hear the noise clearly because he owned the pet shop and thus, these noises seemed usual to him, like the monotonous ticking of a clock. He was used to the noise.
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What two “important” and “earth-shaking” decisions did the doctor take while he was
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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.
Read the poem silently.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and II
took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
About the Poet
Robert Frost (1874-1963) was born in San Franscisco, Frost spent most of his adult
life in rural New England and his laconic language and emphasis on individualism in
his poetry reflect this region. He attended Dartmouth and Harvard but never earned a
degree. As a young man with a growing family he attempted to write poetry while
working on a farm and teaching in a school. American editors rejected his submitted
poems. With considerable pluck Frost moved his family to England in 1912 and the
following year, a London publisher brought out his first book. After publishing a
second book, Frost returned to America determined to win a reputation in his own
country, which he gradually achieved. He became one of the country's best-loved
poets. Unlike his contemporaries, Frost chose not to experiment with the new verse
forms but to employ traditional patterns, or as he said, he chose "the old-fashioned
way to be new." Despite the surface cheerfulness and descriptive accuracy of his
poems, he often presents a dark, sober vision of life, and there is a defined thoughtful
quality to his work which makes it unique.
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
It matters little where we pass the remnant of our days. They will not be many. The Indian’s night promises to be dark. Not a single star of hope hovers above his horizon. Sad-voiced winds moan in the distance. Grim fate seems to be on the Red Man’s trail, and wherever he will hear the approaching footsteps of his fell destroyer and prepare stolidly to meet his doom, as does the wounded doe that hears the approaching footsteps of the hunter.
A few more moons, a few more winters, and not one of the descendants of the mighty hosts that once moved over this broad land or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit, will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours. But why should I mourn at the untimely fate of my people? Tribe follows tribe, and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless. Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come, for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as a friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We will see.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follows.
How does the speaker differentiate his tribal people from the white people?
When there was a strong wind, the pine trees made sad, eerie sounds that kept most people to the main road. But Mr. Oliver was not a nervous or imaginative man. He carried a torch – and on the night I write of, its pale gleam, the batteries were running down – moved fitfully over the narrow forest path. When its flickering light fell on the figure of a boy, who was sitting alone on a rock, Mr. Oliver stopped.
Boys were not supposed to be out of school after seven P.M. and it was now well past nine. What are you doing out here, boy, asked Mr. Oliver sharply, moving closer so that he could recognize the miscreant.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
Why did the people keep to the main road instead of taking the shortcut?
They stood in the doorway of the underground for a moment until it was raining hard. Then they closed the door and heard the gigantic sound of the rain falling in tons and avalanches, everywhere and forever.
“Will it be seven more years?” “Yes. Seven.” Then one of them gave a little cry. “Margot!” “What?” “She’s still in the closet where we locked her.” “Margot.”
They stood as if someone had driven them, like so many stakes, into the floor. They looked at each other and then looked away. They glanced out at the world that was raining now and raining and raining steadily. They could not meet each other’s glances. Their faces were solemn and pale. They looked at their hands and feet, their faces down. “Margot.” One of the girls said, “Well.. .?” No one moved. “Go on,” whispered the girl. They walked slowly down the hall in the sound of the cold rain. They turned through the doorway to the room in the sound of the storm and thunder, lightning on their faces, blue and terrible. They walked over to the closet door slowly and stood by it. Behind the closed door was only silence. They unlocked the door, even more slowly, and let Margot out.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
When would the Sun shine again? Why had the children locked Margot in the closet?
Complete the sentence below by appropriately using anyone of the following:
if you want to/if you don’t want to/if you want him to
He’ll lend you his umbrella______________.
Find in the poem an antonym (a word opposite in meaning) of the following word
grow
Was it right for the author’s friend to dismantle the bicycle?
Why did the customer hate Mr. Purcell?
How did different companies affect the character and behaviour of the two birds?
Narrate the story of the friendship between the monkey and the crocodile in about 80 words.
To whom are these instructions being addressed?
Why is one unable to see a rabbit initially?
Multiple Choice Question:
According to the poet, a house is ________
Mark the right item:
“This, said the emperor, was to encourage all children to honour and obey their parents.”
‘This’ refers to ______
Find words in the story, which show things striking violently against each other.
The birds dived at the snake, but b____d into each other instead.
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Why was the shop called ‘Lucky Shop’?
In Stephen Leacock’s ‘With the Photographer’, while waiting for the photographer, the narrator spent time ______.
