UG-CLAT entrance exam Question Bank Solutions

Kandhamal, the worst affected town by sectarian violence  in September-October 2008 is situated in

The venue of Asian Games in 1970 was 

INS Airavat is India's

Astra-Missile is

 Nehru Institute of Mountaineering is situated at

The chief guest on the 60th Republic day of India was the  President of

Who was given Col. CK Naidu Life Time Achievement  Award for 2007-08 for an exemplary contribution of cricket?

Who is the foreign minister of the European Union?

Who is the author of 'Godan'?

Mahatma Gandhi never became a Nobel Laureate, but he was nominated five times. In which of the following years he was not nominated?

Which of the following countries has not, till the end of 2009,  decoded the entire genome of a human being?

Which of the following is the national song of India? 

 Which country was known as a sick man of Europe?  

In Malaysia, the world 'bumiputra' refers to

What was the real name of Munshi Premchand? 

Who is the author of 'Old Man and the 'Sea'?

Deodhar Trophy is given for the game of

In 1954, a Bombay economist named A.D. Shroff began a forum of free Enterprise, whose ideas on economic development were somewhat at odds with those then influentially articulated by the Planning Commission of the Government of India. Shroff complained against the 'indifference, if not discouragement, with which the state treated entrepreneurs.

At the same time as Shroff, but independently of him, a journalist named Philip Spratt was writing a series of essays in favour of free enterprise. Spratt was a Cambridge communist who was sent by the party in the 1920s to the foment revolution in the subcontinent. detected in the act, he spent many years in an Indian jail. The books he read in the prison, and his marriage to an Indian woman afterward, inspired a steady move rightwards. By the 1950s, he was editing a pro-American weekly from Banglore, called mysIndia. there he inveighed against the economic policies of the government of India. These, he said, treated the entrepreneur 'as a criminal who has dared to use his brain independently of the state to create wealth and give employment’. The state’s chief planner, P.C. Mahalanobis had surrounded himself with Western leftists and Soviet academicians, who reinforced his belief in 'rigid control by the government overall activities’. The result, said Spratt, would be `the smothering of free enterprise, a famine of consumer goods, and the tying down of millions of workers to soul-deadening techniques.'

The voices of men like Spratt and Shroff were drowned in the chorus of popular support for a model of heavy industrialization funded and directed by the governments. The 1950s were certainly not propitious times for free marketers in India. But from time to time their ideas were revived. After the rupee was devalued in 1966, there were some moves towards freeing the trade regime and hopes that the licensing system would also be liberalized. However, after Indira Gandhi split the Congress Party in 1969, her government took its `left turn’, nationalizing a fresh range of industries and returning to economic autarky.

Which of the following statements can most reasonably be inferred from the information available in the passage:

In Mann Joseph's debut novel Serious Men, the protagonist, Ayyan Mani, is a U1, scheming Dalit-Buddhist who almost gets away with passing off his partially deaf son, Adi, as a prodigy, a genius who can recite the first 1,000 prime numbers. The garb of satire-where almost every character cuts a sorry figure-gives the author the licence to offer one' of the most bleak and pessimistic portrayals of urban Dalits. Despite his savage portrayal of Dalit (and Female) character-or perhaps because of it? - Serious Men has won critical appreciation front a cross-section of readers and critics.

At a time when a formidable body of Dalit literature - writing by Dalits about Dalit lives- has created a distinct space for itself, how and why is it that a novel such as serious Men, with its gleefully skewed portrayal of an angry Dalit Man, manages to win such accolades? In American literature and particularly in the case of African-American authors and characters-these issues of representation have been debated for decades. But in India, the sustained refusal to address issues related to caste in every life and the continued and unquestioned predominance of a Brahminical stranglehold over cultural production has led us to a place where the non-Dalit portrayal of Dalits in literature, cinema and art remains the norm.

The journey of modem Dalit literature has been a difficult one. But even though it has not necessarily enjoyed the support of numbers, we must engage with what Dalit are writing not simply for reasons of authenticity, or as a concession to identity politics, but simply because of the aesthetic value of this body of writing, and for the insights, it offers into the human condition. In a society that is still largely unwilling to recognise Dalits as equal, rights-bearing human beings, in a society that is inherently indifferent to the everyday violence against Dalits, in a society unwilling to share social and cultural resources equitably with Dalits unless mandated by law (as seen in the anti-reservation discourse), Dalit literature has the potential to humanise non-Dalits and sensitise them to a world into which they have no insight. But before we can understand what Dalit literature is seeking to accomplish, we need first to come to terms with the stranglehold of non-Dalit representations of Dalits.

Rohinton Miary's ( A Fine Balance), published 15 years ago, chronicles the travails of two Dalit characters uncle Ishvar and nephew Omprakash who migrate to Bombay of the Emergency, Ishvar's father Dukhy belongs to the era of the anti-colonial nationalist movement. During one of Dukhi's visits to the town, he chances upon a meeting of the Indian National Congress, where speakers spread the "Mahatma's message regarding the freedom struggle, the struggle for justice," and wiping out "the disease of untouchability; ravaging us for centuries, denying dignity to our fellow human beings."

Neither in the 1940s, where the novel's past is set nor in the Emergency period of the 1970s when the minds and bodies Ishvar and Omprakash, are savaged by the state do we find any mention of a figure like B.R. Ambedkar or of Dalit movements. In his 'nationalist' understanding of modem Indian history, Mistry seems to have not veered too far from the road charted by predecessors like Mulk Raj Anand and Premchand. Sixty years after Premchand, Mistry's literary imagination seems stuck in the empathy-realism mode, trapping Dalits in abjection. Mistry happily continues the broad stereotype of the Dalit as a passive sufferer, without consciousness of caste politics.

The writer of this passage is critical of Rohinton Mistry's A Fine Balance for the reason that:

In Mann Joseph's debut novel Serious Men, the protagonist, Ayyan Mani, is a U1, scheming Dalit-Buddhist who almost gets away with passing off his partially deaf son, Adi, as a prodigy, a genius who can recite the first 1,000 prime numbers. The garb of satire-where almost every character cuts a sorry figure-gives the author the licence to offer one' of the most bleak and pessimistic portrayals of urban Dalits. Despite his savage portrayal of Dalit (and Female) character-or perhaps because of it? - Serious Men has won critical appreciation front a cross-section of readers and critics.

At a time when a formidable body of Dalit literature - writing by Dalits about Dalit lives- has created a distinct space for itself, how and why is it that a novel such as serious Men, with its gleefully skewed portrayal of an angry Dalit Man, manages to win such accolades? In American literature and particularly in the case of African-American authors and characters-these issues of representation have been debated for decades. But in India, the sustained refusal to address issues related to caste in every life and the continued and unquestioned predominance of a Brahminical stranglehold over cultural production has led us to a place where the non-Dalit portrayal of Dalits in literature, cinema and art remains the norm.

The journey of modem Dalit literature has been a difficult one. But even though it has not necessarily enjoyed the support of numbers, we must engage with what Dalit are writing not simply for reasons of authenticity, or as a concession to identity politics, but simply because of the aesthetic value of this body of writing, and for the insights, it offers into the human condition. In a society that is still largely unwilling to recognize Dalits as equal, rights-bearing human beings, in a society that is inherently indifferent to the everyday violence against Dalits, in a society unwilling to share social and cultural resources equitably with Dalits unless mandated by law (as seen in the anti-reservation discourse), Dalit literature has the potential to humanise non-Dalits and sensitise them to a world into which they have no insight. But before we can understand what Dalit literature is seeking to accomplish, we need first to come to terms with the stranglehold of non-Dalit representations of Dalits.

Rohinton Miary's ( A Fine Balance), published 15 years ago, chronicles the travails of two Dalit characters uncle Ishvar and nephew Omprakash who migrate to Bombay of the Emergency, Ishvar's father Dukhy belongs to the era of the anti-colonial nationalist movement. During one of Dukhi's visits to the town, he chances upon a meeting of the Indian National Congress, where speakers spread the "Mahatma's message regarding the freedom struggle, the struggle for justice," and wiping out "the disease of untouchability; ravaging us for centuries, denying dignity to our fellow human beings."

Neither in the 1940s, where the novel's past is set nor in the Emergency period of the 1970s when the minds and bodies Ishvar and Omprakash, are savaged by the state do we find any mention of a figure like B.R. Ambedkar or of Dalit movements. In his 'nationalist' understanding of modem Indian history, Mistry seems to have not veered too far from the road charted by predecessors like Mulk Raj Anand and Premchand. Sixty years after Premchand, Mistry's literary imagination seems stuck in the empathy-realism mode, trapping Dalits in abjection. Mistry happily continues the broad stereotype of the Dalit as a passive sufferer, without consciousness of caste politics.

The writer refers to the 'anti-reservation discourse' in order to argue that: