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Question
Tarapada, the central character in the short story, Atithi, is a free soul who cannot be restrained by the bonds of society. Examine this statement in 200-250 words.
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Solution
In Rabindranath Tagore's short story "Atithi," Tarapada exemplifies a free soul who cannot be constrained by societal bonds. His love for freedom is evident from his initial departure from home at a young age, driven by an insatiable curiosity and desire to explore the world. Tarapada's interests and activities revolve around wandering and discovering new places, reflecting his inherent restlessness and disdain for a settled life.
Tarapada's attitude towards his family, particularly his mother, is complex. While he cares for his mother, his longing for freedom outweighs familial ties, leading him to leave home without hesitation. This detachment underscores his prioritization of personal liberty over social and familial obligations.
His reaction to music and nature further highlights his free-spirited nature. Tarapada is deeply moved by music, which resonates with his soul and fuels his wanderlust. Nature, too, holds a special place in his heart, offering him solace and a sense of belonging that society cannot provide. His interactions with ordinary people are marked by genuine curiosity and openness, as he does not judge them based on social status but rather appreciates them for who they are.
Tarapada's relationship with Charusashi, the Zamindar's daughter, is marked by affection and mutual understanding. However, even the prospect of a settled life with Charusashi cannot bind him. On the night of their proposed marriage, Tarapada feels an irresistible pull to return to his wandering life, demonstrating that his love for freedom surpasses his emotional attachments.
At the conclusion of the story, Tarapada's return to the world of nature symbolizes his ultimate rejection of societal constraints. Nature represents his true home, a place where he can live unbound and true to his free spirit. This return signifies his acceptance that he cannot conform to societal expectations and must follow his innate desire for freedom.
In summary, Tarapada's character in "Atithi" is a testament to the unyielding human spirit's quest for freedom. His love for exploration, detachment from societal and familial bonds, and deep connection with nature illustrate his inability to be restrained by conventional expectations. Through Tarapada, Tagore beautifully captures the essence of a free soul.
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In these sentences words like everyday, often, seldom, never, every
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Thinking about the Poem
What does the poet say the wind god winnows?
The passing of time will no longer affect her, says the poet. Which lines of the poem say this?
Now read the story
- "Ma!" Mrs. Bramble looked up, beaming with a kind of amiable fat-headedness. A domestic creature, wrapped up in Bill, her husband, and Harold, her son. At the present moment only the latter was with her. He sat on the other side of the table, his lips gravely pursed and his eyes a trifle cloudy behind their spectacles. Before him on the red tablecloth lay an open book. His powerful brain was plainly busy.
- "Yes, dearie?"
- "Will you hear me?"
- Mrs. Bramble took the book.
- "Yes, mother will hear you, precious."
- A slight frown, marred the smoothness of Harold Bramble's brow. It jarred upon him, this habit of his mother's, of referring to herself in the third person, as if she were addressing a baby, instead of a young man of ten who had taken the spelling and dictation prize last term on his head.
- He cleared his throat and fixed his eyes upon the cut-glass hangings of the chandelier.
- "Be good, sweet maid," he began, with the toneless rapidity affected by youths of his age when reciting poetry…..
- "You do study so hard, dearie, you'll give yourself a headache. Why don't you take a nice walk by the river for half an hour, and come back nice and fresh?"
- The spectacled child considered the point for a moment gravely. Then nodding, he arranged his books in readiness for his return and went out. The front door closed with a decorous softness.
- It was a constant source of amazement to Mrs. Bramble that she should have brought such a prodigy as Harold into the world. Harold was so different from ordinary children, so devoted to his books, such a model of behaviour, so altogether admirable. The only drawback was, that his very 'perfection' had made necessary a series of evasions and even deliberate falsehoods, on the part of herself and her husband, highly distasteful to both. They were lovers of truth, but they had realized that there are times when truth must be sacrificed. At any cost, the facts concerning Mr. Bramble's profession must be kept from Harold.
- While he was a baby it had not mattered so much. But when he began to move about and take notice, Mrs. Bramble said to Mr. Bramble, "Bill, we must keep it from Harold." A little later, when the child had begun to show signs of being about to become a model of goodness and intelligence, and had already taken two prizes at the Sunday-school, the senior curate of the parish, meeting Mr. Bramble one morning, said nervously-for after all, it was a delicate subject to broach, "Er-Bramble, I think, on the whole, it would be as well to-er-keep it from Harold."
- And only the other day, Mrs. Bramble's brother, Major Percy Stokes, dropping in for a cup of tea, had said, "I hope you are keeping it from Harold. It is the least you can do", and had gone on to make one or two remarks about men of wrath which, considering that his cheek-bones were glistening with Mr. Bramble's buttered toast, were in poor taste. But Percy was like that. Enemies said that he liked the sound of his own voice.
- Certainly he was very persuasive. Mr. Bramble had fallen in with the suggestion without demur. In private life he was the mildest and most obliging of men, and always yielded to everybody. The very naming of Harold had caused a sacrifice on his part.
- When it was certain that he was about to become a father, he had expressed a desire that the child should be named John, if a boy, after Mr John L. Sullivan, or, if a girl, Marie, after Miss Marie Lloyd. But Mrs Bramble saying that Harold was such a sweet name, he had withdrawn his suggestions with the utmost goodhumour.
- Nobody could help liking this excellent man which made it all the greater pity that his walk in life was of such a nature that it simply had to be kept from Harold.
- He was a professional boxer. That was the trouble.
- Before the coming of Harold, he had been proud of being a professional boxer. His ability to paste his fellow-man in the eye while apparently meditating an attack on his stomach, and vice versa, had filled him with that genial glow of self-satisfaction which comes to philanthropists and other benefactors of the species. It had seemed to him a thing on which to congratulate himself that of all London's teeming millions there was not a man, weighing eight stone four, whom he could not overcome in a twenty-round contest. He was delighted to be the possessor of a left hook which had won the approval of the newspapers.
- And then Harold had come into his life, and changed him into a furtive practitioner of shady deeds. Before, he had gone about the world with a match-box full of press-notices, which he would extract with a pin and read to casual acquaintances. Now, he quailed at the sight of his name in print, so thoroughly had he become imbued with the necessity of keeping it from Harold.
- With an ordinary boy it would not have mattered. However, Harold was different. Secretly proud of him as they were, both Bill and his wife were a little afraid of their wonderful child. The fact was, as Bill himself put it, Harold was showing a bit too much class for them. He had formed a corner in brains, as far as the Bramble family was concerned. They had come to regard him as being of a superior order.
- Yet Harold, defying the laws of heredity, had run to intellect as his father had run to muscle. He had learned to read and write with amazing quickness. He sang in the choir.
- And now, at the age of ten, a pupil at a local private school where they wore mortar boards and generally comported themselves like young dons, he had already won a prize for spelling and dictation. You simply couldn't take a boy like that aside and tell him that the father whom he believed to be a commercial traveller was affectionately known to a large section of the inhabitants of London, as "Young Porky." There were no two ways about it. You had to keep it from him.
- So, Harold grew in stature and intelligence, without a suspicion of the real identity of the square-jawed man with the irregularly-shaped nose who came and went mysteriously in their semi-detached, red-brick home. He was a self-centred child, and, accepting the commercial traveller fiction, dismissed the subject from his mind and busied himself with things of more moment. And time slipped by.
- Mrs. Bramble, left alone, resumed work on the sock which she was darning. For the first time since Harold had reached years of intelligence she was easy in her mind about the future. A week from tonight would see the end of all her anxieties. On that day Bill would fight his last fight, the twenty-round contest with that American Murphy at the National Sporting Club for which he was now training at the White Hart down the road. He had promised that it would be the last. He was getting on. He was thirty-one, and he said himself that he would have to be chucking the game before it chucked him. His idea was to retire from active work and try for a job as an instructor at one of these big schools or colleges. He had a splendid record for respectability and sobriety and all the other qualities which headmasters demanded in those who taught their young gentlemen to box and several of his friends who had obtained similar posts described the job in question as extremely soft. So that it seemed to Mrs. Bramble, that all might now be considered well. She smiled happily to herself as she darned her sock.
- She was interrupted in her meditations by a knock at the front door. She put down her sock and listened.
- Martha, the general, pattered along the passage, and then there came the sound of voices speaking in an undertone. Footsteps made themselves heard in the passage. The door opened. The head and shoulders of Major Percy Stokes insinuated themselves into the room.
- The Major cocked a mild blue eye at her.
- "Harold anywhere about?"
- "He's gone out for a nice walk. Whatever brings you here, Percy, so late? "
- Percy made no answer. He withdrew his head.
- He then reappeared, this time in his entirety, and remained holding the door open. More footsteps in the passage, and through the doorway in a sideways fashion suggestive of a diffident crab, came a short, sturdy, red-headed man with a broken nose and a propitiatory smile, at the sight of whom Mrs. Bramble, dropping her sock, rose as if propelled by powerful machinery, and exclaimed, "Bill!"
- Mr. Bramble - for it was he - scratched his head, grinned feebly, and looked for assistance to the Major.
- "The scales have fallen from his eyes."
- "What scales?" demanded Mrs. Bramble, a literal-minded woman. "And what are you doing here, Bill, when you ought to be at the White Hart, training?"
- "That's just what I'm telling you," said Percy. "I’ve been wrestling with Bill, and I have been vouchsafed the victory."
- "You!" said Mrs. Bramble, with uncomplimentary astonishment, letting her gaze wander over her brother's weedy form.
- "Jerry Fisher's a hard nut," said Mr. Bramble, apologetically. "He don't like people coming round talking to a man he's training, unless he introduces them or they're newspaper gents."
- "After that I kept away. But I wrote the letters and I sent the tracts. Bill, which of the tracts was it that snatched you from the primrose path?"
- "It wasn't so much the letters, Perce. It was what you wrote about Harold. You see, Jane---"
- "Perhaps you'll kindly allow me to get a word in edgeways, you two," said Mrs.Bramble, her temper for once becoming ruffled. "You can stop talking for half an instant, Percy, if you know how, while Bill tells me what he's doing here when he ought to be at the White Hart with Mr. Fisher, doing his bit of training."
- Mr. Bramble met her eye and blinked awkwardly.
- " Percy's just been telling you, Jane. He wrote---"
- "I haven't made head or tail of a single word that Percy's said, and I don't expect to. All I want is a plain answer to a plain question. What are you doing here, Bill, instead of being at the White Hart? "
- "I've come home, Jane."
- "Glory!" exclaimed the Major.
- "Percy, if you don't keep quiet, I'll forget I'm your sister and let you have one. What
do you mean, Bill, you've come home? Isn't there going to be the fight next week,
after all?" - "The fight's over," said the unsuppressed Major, joyfully, "and Bill's won, with me
seconding him." - "Percy!"
- Mr. Bramble pulled himself together with a visible effort.
- "I'm not going to fight, Jane," he said, in a small voice.
- '' You're not going--!"
- "He's seen the error of his ways," cried Percy, the resilient."That's what he's gone
and done. At the eleventh hour." - "Oh! I have waited for this joyful moment. I have watched for it. I---"
- "You're not going to fight!"
- Mr. Bramble, avoiding his wife's eye, shook his head.
- "And how about the money?"
- "What's money? " said the Major, scornfully.
- "You ought to know," snapped Mrs. Bramble, turning on him. "You've borrowed
enough of it from me in your time." - The Major waved a hand in wounded silence. He considered the remark in poor
taste. - "How about the money?" repeated Mrs. Bramble. "Goodness knows I've never liked your profession, Bill, but there is this to be said for it, that it's earned you good money and made it possible for us to give Harold as good an education as any Duke ever had, I'm sure. And you know, you yourself said that the five hundred pounds you were going to get if you beat this Murphy, and even if you lost it would be a hundred and twenty, was going to be a blessing, because it would let us finish him off proper and give him a better start in life than you or me ever had, and now
you let this Percy come over you with his foolish talk, and now I don't know what will happen." - There was an uncomfortable silence. Even Percy seemed to be at a loss for words. Mrs. Bramble sat down and began to sob. Mr. Bramble shuffled his feet.
- "Talking of Harold," said Mr. Bramble at last, " That's , really what I'm driving at. It was him only whom I was thinking of when I hopped it from the White Hart. It would be written up in all the papers, instead of only in the sporting ones. As likely as not there would be a piece about it in the Mail, with a photograph of me. And you know Harold reads his Mail regularly. And then, don't you see, the fat would be in the fire. "That's what Percy pointed out to me, and I seen what he meant, so I hopped it."
- "At the eleventh hour," added the Major, rubbing in the point.
- "You see, Jane---" Mr. Bramble was beginning, when there was a knock at the door, and a little, ferret-faced man in a woollen sweater and cycling knickerbockers entered, removing as he did so a somewhat battered bowler hat.
- "Beg pardon, Mrs. Bramble," he said, " coming in like this. Found the front door ajar, so came in, to ask if you'd happened to have seen-"
- He broke off and stood staring wildly at the little group.
- "I thought so!" he said, and shot through the air towards Percy.
- "Jerry !" said Bill.
- "Mr. Fisher!" said Mrs. Bramble,
- "Be reasonable," said the Major, diving underneath the table and coming up the other side like a performing seal.
- "Let me get at him," begged the intruder, struggling to free himself from Bill's restraining arms.
- Mrs. Bramble rapped on the table.
- "Kindly remember there's a lady present, Mr. Fisher."
- The little man's face became a battlefield on which rage, misery, and a respect for the decencies of social life struggled for mastery.
- "It's hard," he said at length, in a choked voice. "I just wanted to break his neck for him, but I suppose it's not to be. I know it's him that's at the bottom of it. And here I find them together, so I know it's him. Well, if you say so, Mrs. B., I suppose I mustn't put a hand on him. But it's hard. Bill, you come back along with me to the White Hart. I'm surprised at you. Ashamed of you, I am. All the time you and me have known each other, I've never known you do such a thing. You are such a pleasure to train as a rule. It all comes of getting with bad companions."
- Mr. Bramble looked at his brother-in-law miserably.
- "You tell him," he said.
- "You tell him, Jane," said the Major.
- "I won't," said Mrs. Bramble.
- "Tell him what? " asked the puzzled trainer.
- "Well?"
- "It's only that I'm not going to fight on Monday."
- "What!"
- "Bill has seen a sudden bright light," said Percy, edging a few inches to the left, so that the table was exactly between the trainer and himself. "At the eleventh hour, he has turned from his wicked ways. You ought to be singing with joy, Mr. Fisher, if you really loved Bill. This ought to be the happiest evening you've ever known. You ought to be singing like a little child."
- A strange, guttural noise escaped the trainer. It may have been a song, but it did not sound like it.
- "It's true, Jerry," said Bill, unhappily. "I have been thinking it over, and I'm not going to fight on Monday."
- "Glory!" said the Major, tactlessly.
- Jerry Fisher's face was a study in violent emotions. His eyes seemed to protrude from their sockets like a snail's. He clutched the tablecloth.
- "I'm sorry, Jerry," said Bill. " I know it's hard on you. But I've got to think of Harold. This fight with Jimmy Murphy being what you might call a kind of national affair, in a way of speaking, will be reported in The Mail as like as not, with a photograph of me, and Harold reads The Mail regular. We've been keeping it from him all these years that I'm in the profession, and we can't let him know now. He would die of shame, Jerry."
- Tears appeared in Jerry Fisher's eyes.
- "Bill," he cried, " you're off your head. Think of the purse!"
- "Ah!" said Mrs. Bramble.
- "Think of all the swells that'll be coming to see you. Think of what the papers'll say. Think of me."
- "I know, Jerry, it's chronic. But Harold---"
- "Think of all the trouble you've taken for the last few weeks getting yourself into condition."
- "I know. But Har---"
- "You can't not fight on Monday."
- "But Harold, Jerry. He'd die of the disgrace of it. He ain't like you and me, Jerry. He's a little gentleman. I got to think of Harold"
- "What about me, pa?" said a youthful voice at the door; and Bill's honest blood froze at the sound. His jaw fell, and he goggled dumbly.
- There, his spectacles gleaming in the gaslight, his cheeks glowing with the exertion of the nice walk, his eyebrows slightly elevated with surprise, stood Harold himself.
- "Halloa, pa! Halloa, Uncle Percy! Somebody's left the front door open. What were you saying about thinking about me, pa? Ma, will you hear me, my piece of poetry again? I think I've forgotten it."
- The four adults surveyed the innocent child in silence.
- On the faces of three of them consternation was written. In the eyes of the fourth, Mr. Fisher, there glittered that nasty, steely expression of the man, who sees his way to getting a bit of his own back, Mr. Fisher's was not an un-mixedly chivalrous nature. He considered that he had been badly treated, and what he wanted most at the moment was revenge. He had been fond and proud of Bill Bramble, but those emotions belonged to the dead past. Just at present, he felt that he disliked Bill rather more than anyone else in the world, with the possible exception of Major Percy Stokes.
- "So you're Harold, are you, Tommy? " he said, in a metallic voice." Then just you listen here a minute."
- "Jerry," cried Bill, advancing, "you keep your mouth shut, or I'll dot you one."
- Mr. Fisher retreated and, grasping a chair, swung it above his head.
- "You better! " he said, curtly.
- ''Mr. Fisher, do be a gentleman," entreated Mrs. Bramble.
- "My dear sir." There was a crooning winningness in Percy's voice. "My dear sir, do nothing hasty. Think before you speak. Don't go and be so silly as to act like a mutton-head. I'd be ashamed to be so spiteful. Respect a father's feelings."
- "Tommy," said Mr. Fisher, ignoring them all, "you think your pa's a commercial. He ain't. He's a fighting-man, doing his eight-stone-four ringside, and known to all the heads as ' Young Porky.' "
- Bill sank into a chair. He could see Harold's round eyes staring at him.
- "I'd never have thought it of you, Jerry," he said, miserably. "If anyone had come to me and told me that you could have acted so raw I'd have dotted him one."
- "And if anyone had come to me and told me that I should live to see the day when you broke training a week before a fight at the National, I'd given him one for himself."
- "Harold, my lad," said Percy, "you mustn't think none the worse of your pa for having been a man of wrath. He hadn't seen the bright light then. It's all over now. He's given it up for ever, and there's no call for you to feel ashamed."
- Bill seized on the point.
- "That's right, Harold," he said, reviving, "I've given it up. I was going to fight an American named Murphy at the National next Monday, but I ain't going to now, not if they come to me on their bended knees. Not even if the King of England came to me on his bended knees."
- Harold drew a deep breath.
- "Oh!" he cried, shrilly. "Oh, aren't you? Then what about my two bob? What about my two bob, I've betted Dicky Saunders that Jimmy Murphy won't last ten rounds?"
- He looked round the room wrathfully.
- "It's thick," he said in the crisp, gentlemanly, voice of which his parents were so proud. "It's jolly thick. That's what it is. A chap takes the trouble to study form and saves up his pocket-money to have a bet on a good thing, and then he goes and gets let down like this. It may be funny to you, but I call it rotten. And another thing I call rotten is you having kept it from me all this time that you were 'Young Porky,' pa. That's what I call so jolly rotten! There's a fellow at our school who goes about swanking in the most rotten way because he once got Phil Scott's autograph. Fellows look up to him most awfully, and all the time they might have been doing it to me. That's what makes me so jolly sick. How long do you suppose they'd go on calling me, 'Goggles' if they knew that you were my father? They'd chuck it tomorrow, and look up to me like anything, I do call it rotten. And chucking it up like this is the limit. What do you want to do it for? It's the silliest idea, I've ever heard. Why, if you beat Jimmy Murphy they'll have to give you the next chance with Sid
Sampson for the Lonsdale belt. Jimmy beat Ted Richards, and Ted beat the Ginger Nut, and the Ginger Nut only lost on a foul to Sid Sampson, and you beat Ted Richards, so they couldn't help letting you have the next go at Sid." - Mr. Fisher beamed approval.
- "If I've told your pa that once, I've told him twenty times," he said. "You certainly know a thing or two, Tommy."
- "Well, I've made a study of it since I was a kid, so I jolly well ought to. All the fellows at our place are frightfully keen on it. One chap's got a snapshot of Jimmy Wilde. At least, he says it's Jimmy Wilde, but I believe it's just some ordinary fellow. Anyhow, it's jolly blurred, so it might be anyone. Pa, can't you give me a picture of yourself boxing? I could swank like anything. And you don't know how sick a chap gets of having chaps call him, 'Goggles.' "
- "Bill," said Mr. Fisher, "you and me had better be getting back to the White Hart."
- Bill rose and followed him without a word.
- Harold broke the silence which followed their departure. The animated expression which had been on his face as he discussed the relative merits of Sid Sampson and the Ginger Nut had given place to the abstracted gravity of the student.
- "Ma!"
- Mrs. Bramble started convulsively.
- "Yes, dearie?"
- "Will you hear me? "
- Mrs. Bramble took the book.
- ''Yes, mother will hear you, precious," she said, mechanically.
- Harold fixed his eyes upon the cut-glass hangings of the chandelier.
- "Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever-clever. Do noble things.. "
About the Author
Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse, KBE (15 October 1881 - 14 February 1975) was a comic writer who enjoyed enormous popular success during his career as an acknowledged master of English prose. Wodehouse has been admired both by his contemporaries such as Hilaire Belloc, Evelyn Waugh and Rudyard Kipling and by modern writers such as Douglas Adams, Salman Rushdie, Zadie Smith and Terry Pratchett.
Best known today for his Jeeves and Blandings Castle novels and short stories, Wodehouse was also a playwright and lyricist who was part author and writer of 15 plays and of 250 lyrics for some 30 musical comedies. He worked with Cole Porter on the musical 'Anything Goes' (1934) and frequently collaborated with Jerome Kern and Guy Bolton. He wrote the lyrics for the hit song "Bill" in Kern's Show Boat (1927), wrote the lyrics for the Gershwin - Romberg’s musical Rosalie (1928) and collaborated with Rudolf Friml on a musical version of The Three Musketeers (1928).
Punctuate the Following:
the indian rhinoceros was the first rhinoceros known to europeans rhinoceros comes from the greek rhino meaning nose and ceros meaning horn the indian rhinoceros is monotypic there are no distinct subspecies rhinoceros unicornis was the type species for the rhinoceros family first classified by carolus linnaeus in 1758 the indian rhinoceros was the first rhino widely known outside its range the first rhino to reach europe in modern times arrived in lisbon in may 20, 1515 king manuel I of portugal planned to send the rhinoceros to pope leo x but the rhino perished in a shipwreck.
Present Perfect Continuous
Read the following sentences with the present perfect continuous tense
form
1. Mr and Mrs Singh have been living in the same house in the same town
for the last five years.
2. "Have you beenkeepingyourpocketmoneysafely, Rani?"
These sentences illustrate the main use of the Present Perfect Continuous
tense to show that the action started in the past and is still in progress in
the present.
The next man looking 'cross the way
Saw one not of his church
And Couldn't bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.
The third one sat in tattered clothes.
He gave his coat a hitch.
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thought
of the wealth he had in store
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy shiftless poor.
Read the lines given above and answer the question that follow.
Explain with reference to context
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.
How do the White feel about their dead people?
An old man with steel rimmed spectacles and very dusty clothes sat by the side of the road. There was a pontoon bridge across the river and carts, trucks, and men, women and children were crossing it. The mule-drawn carts staggered up the steep bank from the bridge with soldiers helping push against the spokes of the wheels. The trucks ground up and away heading out of it all and the peasants plodded along in the ankle deep dust. But the old man sat there without moving. He was too tired to go any farther.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
Why were the soldiers “helping to push against the spokes of the wheels”?
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.
What did the Big House look like?
The women came out on the shore, and made for the stepping—?stones. They had plenty to laugh and bicker about, as they approached the river in a noisy crowd. They girded up their skirts, so as to jump from stone to stone, and they clanked their sickles and forks together over their shoulders to have ease of movement. They shouted their quarrels above the gush of the river. Noise frightens crocodiles. The big mugger did not move, and all the women crossed in safety to the other bank. Here they had to climb a steep hillside to get at the grass, but all fell to with a will, and sliced away at it wherever there was foothold to be had. Down below them ran the broad river, pouring powerfully out from its deep narrow pools among the cold cliffs and shadows, spreading into warm shallows, lit by kingfishers. Great turtles lived there, and mahseer weighing more than a hundred pounds. Crocodiles too. Sometimes you could see them lying out on those slabs of clay over there, but there were none to be seen at the moment.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
What were they doing on the hill?
Margot stood apart from these children who could never remember a time when there wasn’t rain and rain and rain. They were all nine years old, and if there had been a day, seven years ago, when the sun came out for an hour and showed its face to the stunned world, they could not recall. Sometimes, at night, she heard them stir, in remembrance, and she knew they were dreaming and remembering an old or a yellow crayon or a coin large enough to buy the world with. She knew they thought they remembered a warmness, like a blushing in the face, in the body, in the arms and legs and trembling hands. But then they always awoke to the tatting drum, the endless shaking down of clear bead necklaces upon the roof, the walk, the gardens, the forests, and their dreams were gone. All day yesterday they had read in class about the sun. About how like a lemon it was, and how hot. And they had written small stories or essays or poems about it:
I think the snn is a flower,
That blooms for just one hour.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
What had Margot written about the sun in her poem?
Read the extract given below and answer the questions that follow :
The breaking down of discipline likewise affected the dogs in their relations with one another. They quarreled and bickered more than ever among themselves, till at times the camp was a howling bedlam: 'Dave and Sol-leks alone were unaltered, though they were made irritable by the unending squabbling.
(i) What led to the break-down of discipline in the dog team?
How did it affect the relationship in the dogs?
(ii) What other acts of indiscipline did Buck's encouragement lead to?
(iii) What started the dogs off on a chase after supper one night at the mouth of the river Tahkeena?
(iv) Who led the dogs in the chase? What primitive urge did Buck experience during the chase?
(v) How did Spitz use the chase to try and outwit Buck? What does this reveal of Spitz's nature?
Read the extract given below and answer the questions that follow :
With the dogs falling, Mercedes weeping and riding, Hal swearing innocuously, and Charles's eyes wistfully watering, they staggered into John Thornton's camp at the mouth of White River. When they halted, the dogs dropped down as though they had all been struck dead.
(i) Who were Mercedes, Hal, and Charles? How were they; related to each other?
(ii) What was John Thornton doing when they arrived at his camp? Describe his responses to Hal's questions. Give one reason for his manner.
(iv) What did Thornton warn them against? What reason did he give for his warning? How did Hal respond to Thornton's advice?
(iv) How did Hal manage to get his dogs back on their feet? Why did Buck not respond to Hal's blows?
(v) Describe how Thornton saved Buck's life.
Do the following activity in groups.
Describe a desert in your own way. Write a paragraph and read it aloud to your classmates.
How did Ravi link his cat with the Pallava kings?
What all facts Maya collected about Mr Nath?
What is in general, the relationship between a mongoose and a snake?
What did the specialist prescribe in addition to medicine?
What was Vijay Singh’s weakness? Which awkward situation did it push him into?
How are trees useful for birds?
Fill in the blank in the sentence below with the words or phrases from the box. (You may not know the meaning of all the words. Look such words up in a dictionary, or ask your teacher.)
____________ , the elf began to help Patrick.
Word in the box given below indicates a large number of… For example, ‘a herd of cows’ refers to many cows. Complete the following phrase with a suitable word from the box.
a _______________ of cattle
How did Patrick get supernatural help? Was the elf intelligent enough to answer questions in all the subjects?
Answer the question.
What does he imagine about
where teachers live?
Find out the different kinds of work done by the people in your neighbourhood. Make different cards for different kinds of work. You can make the card colourful with pictures of the persons doing the work.
Why does the speaker’s brother lie to him?
How does Malcolm’s character grow and change over the course of the play? Incorporate the following details and write your answer in a short paragraph of about 100-150 words.
- Malcolm’s testing of Macduff in Act IV
- His generalship and the restoration of order through Macduff
