Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
If you're a girl in Heaven, you don't get out much. When we leave, it's to go to the post office to fill out the deposit forms for our mothers' government-scheme bank accounts, or to the market where we've been sent for onions or tomatoes.
Makes it hard to remember that there is a world out there that is not the same as ours.
Joy goes out even less than the rest of us. When she leaves the muddy paths of Heaven, she leaves more than just tin roofs and hospital sludge. She leaves a fortress, a kingdom she built herself. Subject by subject, brick by brick.
Last year, when the health worker put Joy on the scale and told her she was underweight (just like the rest of us), Selvi Aunty took her to the hospital to get the iron pills the government is distributing to adolescent girls.
When the nurse asked for Joy's paperwork, Selvi Aunty handed over her birth certificate.
"Beti, I think you brought the wrong one," the nurse said. Purple lab coat over a red-checkered sari. North Indian convent-school voice coated with the congratulations she must get for helping backward women, starving girls.
"This looks like it's for your son. Do you have a child named Anand?"
"That's right," Selvi Aunty said. Joy sat straight backed and stone-faced, a granite statuette.
"This is Anand. He's Joy now."
"This is Anand?" the nurse asked.
"Yes," Selvi Aunty said. "We were reborn. As Christians. Anand has become Joy."
"Really, you people will stop at nothing for government hand-outs," the nurse said.
"What do you mean?" Selvi Aunty asked. Joy, though, pressed the balls of her feet into the ground, readying herself to leave.
"Like you don't know," the nurse said. "This scheme is for girls! The lengths you'll go to for some extra rations. Really. Get a job."
"I have a job," Selvi Aunty said. "Four jobs at four different houses. And Joy is a girl. But anyway, what does it matter? She's underweight. The health worker said so. What's that word? Malnourished."
"I can't help you," the nurse said, waving her off. "Take your son elsewhere. And put some proper clothes on him."
Joy stood up then. Regally declared, "Come on, Amma. Don't bother with this woman."
But Selvi Aunty wasn't done yet. She leaned across the table and stared into the nurse's eyes like a cobra hypnotizing its prey.
"Not my son," she said quietly. "My daughter. Who is ten times the woman you will ever be."
Q. Which of the following can be inferred as the reason why Joy used to go out less often than most of us?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
If you're a girl in Heaven, you don't get out much. When we leave, it's to go to the post office to fill out the deposit forms for our mothers' government-scheme bank accounts, or to the market where we've been sent for onions or tomatoes.
Makes it hard to remember that there is a world out there that is not the same as ours.
Joy goes out even less than the rest of us. When she leaves the muddy paths of Heaven, she leaves more than just tin roofs and hospital sludge. She leaves a fortress, a kingdom she built herself. Subject by subject, brick by brick.
Last year, when the health worker put Joy on the scale and told her she was underweight (just like the rest of us), Selvi Aunty took her to the hospital to get the iron pills the government is distributing to adolescent girls.
When the nurse asked for Joy's paperwork, Selvi Aunty handed over her birth certificate.
"Beti, I think you brought the wrong one," the nurse said. Purple lab coat over a red-checkered sari. North Indian convent-school voice coated with the congratulations she must get for helping backward women, starving girls.
"This looks like it's for your son. Do you have a child named Anand?"
"That's right," Selvi Aunty said. Joy sat straight backed and stone-faced, a granite statuette.
"This is Anand. He's Joy now."
"This is Anand?" the nurse asked.
"Yes," Selvi Aunty said. "We were reborn. As Christians. Anand has become Joy."
"Really, you people will stop at nothing for government hand-outs," the nurse said.
"What do you mean?" Selvi Aunty asked. Joy, though, pressed the balls of her feet into the ground, readying herself to leave.
"Like you don't know," the nurse said. "This scheme is for girls! The lengths you'll go to for some extra rations. Really. Get a job."
"I have a job," Selvi Aunty said. "Four jobs at four different houses. And Joy is a girl. But anyway, what does it matter? She's underweight. The health worker said so. What's that word? Malnourished."
"I can't help you," the nurse said, waving her off. "Take your son elsewhere. And put some proper clothes on him."
Joy stood up then. Regally declared, "Come on, Amma. Don't bother with this woman."
But Selvi Aunty wasn't done yet. She leaned across the table and stared into the nurse's eyes like a cobra hypnotizing its prey.
"Not my son," she said quietly. "My daughter. Who is ten times the woman you will ever be."
Q. What does the word 'backward' as used in the passage mean?
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Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
If you're a girl in Heaven, you don't get out much. When we leave, it's to go to the post office to fill out the deposit forms for our mothers' government-scheme bank accounts, or to the market where we've been sent for onions or tomatoes.
Makes it hard to remember that there is a world out there that is not the same as ours.
Joy goes out even less than the rest of us. When she leaves the muddy paths of Heaven, she leaves more than just tin roofs and hospital sludge. She leaves a fortress, a kingdom she built herself. Subject by subject, brick by brick.
Last year, when the health worker put Joy on the scale and told her she was underweight (just like the rest of us), Selvi Aunty took her to the hospital to get the iron pills the government is distributing to adolescent girls.
When the nurse asked for Joy's paperwork, Selvi Aunty handed over her birth certificate.
"Beti, I think you brought the wrong one," the nurse said. Purple lab coat over a red-checkered sari. North Indian convent-school voice coated with the congratulations she must get for helping backward women, starving girls.
"This looks like it's for your son. Do you have a child named Anand?"
"That's right," Selvi Aunty said. Joy sat straight backed and stone-faced, a granite statuette.
"This is Anand. He's Joy now."
"This is Anand?" the nurse asked.
"Yes," Selvi Aunty said. "We were reborn. As Christians. Anand has become Joy."
"Really, you people will stop at nothing for government hand-outs," the nurse said.
"What do you mean?" Selvi Aunty asked. Joy, though, pressed the balls of her feet into the ground, readying herself to leave.
"Like you don't know," the nurse said. "This scheme is for girls! The lengths you'll go to for some extra rations. Really. Get a job."
"I have a job," Selvi Aunty said. "Four jobs at four different houses. And Joy is a girl. But anyway, what does it matter? She's underweight. The health worker said so. What's that word? Malnourished."
"I can't help you," the nurse said, waving her off. "Take your son elsewhere. And put some proper clothes on him."
Joy stood up then. Regally declared, "Come on, Amma. Don't bother with this woman."
But Selvi Aunty wasn't done yet. She leaned across the table and stared into the nurse's eyes like a cobra hypnotizing its prey.
"Not my son," she said quietly. "My daughter. Who is ten times the woman you will ever be."
Q. As mentioned in the passage, why does Aunty Selvi take Joy to the hospital?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
If you're a girl in Heaven, you don't get out much. When we leave, it's to go to the post office to fill out the deposit forms for our mothers' government-scheme bank accounts, or to the market where we've been sent for onions or tomatoes.
Makes it hard to remember that there is a world out there that is not the same as ours.
Joy goes out even less than the rest of us. When she leaves the muddy paths of Heaven, she leaves more than just tin roofs and hospital sludge. She leaves a fortress, a kingdom she built herself. Subject by subject, brick by brick.
Last year, when the health worker put Joy on the scale and told her she was underweight (just like the rest of us), Selvi Aunty took her to the hospital to get the iron pills the government is distributing to adolescent girls.
When the nurse asked for Joy's paperwork, Selvi Aunty handed over her birth certificate.
"Beti, I think you brought the wrong one," the nurse said. Purple lab coat over a red-checkered sari. North Indian convent-school voice coated with the congratulations she must get for helping backward women, starving girls.
"This looks like it's for your son. Do you have a child named Anand?"
"That's right," Selvi Aunty said. Joy sat straight backed and stone-faced, a granite statuette.
"This is Anand. He's Joy now."
"This is Anand?" the nurse asked.
"Yes," Selvi Aunty said. "We were reborn. As Christians. Anand has become Joy."
"Really, you people will stop at nothing for government hand-outs," the nurse said.
"What do you mean?" Selvi Aunty asked. Joy, though, pressed the balls of her feet into the ground, readying herself to leave.
"Like you don't know," the nurse said. "This scheme is for girls! The lengths you'll go to for some extra rations. Really. Get a job."
"I have a job," Selvi Aunty said. "Four jobs at four different houses. And Joy is a girl. But anyway, what does it matter? She's underweight. The health worker said so. What's that word? Malnourished."
"I can't help you," the nurse said, waving her off. "Take your son elsewhere. And put some proper clothes on him."
Joy stood up then. Regally declared, "Come on, Amma. Don't bother with this woman."
But Selvi Aunty wasn't done yet. She leaned across the table and stared into the nurse's eyes like a cobra hypnotizing its prey.
"Not my son," she said quietly. "My daughter. Who is ten times the woman you will ever be."
Q. Based on the information set out in the passage, which of the following is most accurate?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
If you're a girl in Heaven, you don't get out much. When we leave, it's to go to the post office to fill out the deposit forms for our mothers' government-scheme bank accounts, or to the market where we've been sent for onions or tomatoes.
Makes it hard to remember that there is a world out there that is not the same as ours.
Joy goes out even less than the rest of us. When she leaves the muddy paths of Heaven, she leaves more than just tin roofs and hospital sludge. She leaves a fortress, a kingdom she built herself. Subject by subject, brick by brick.
Last year, when the health worker put Joy on the scale and told her she was underweight (just like the rest of us), Selvi Aunty took her to the hospital to get the iron pills the government is distributing to adolescent girls.
When the nurse asked for Joy's paperwork, Selvi Aunty handed over her birth certificate.
"Beti, I think you brought the wrong one," the nurse said. Purple lab coat over a red-checkered sari. North Indian convent-school voice coated with the congratulations she must get for helping backward women, starving girls.
"This looks like it's for your son. Do you have a child named Anand?"
"That's right," Selvi Aunty said. Joy sat straight backed and stone-faced, a granite statuette.
"This is Anand. He's Joy now."
"This is Anand?" the nurse asked.
"Yes," Selvi Aunty said. "We were reborn. As Christians. Anand has become Joy."
"Really, you people will stop at nothing for government hand-outs," the nurse said.
"What do you mean?" Selvi Aunty asked. Joy, though, pressed the balls of her feet into the ground, readying herself to leave.
"Like you don't know," the nurse said. "This scheme is for girls! The lengths you'll go to for some extra rations. Really. Get a job."
"I have a job," Selvi Aunty said. "Four jobs at four different houses. And Joy is a girl. But anyway, what does it matter? She's underweight. The health worker said so. What's that word? Malnourished."
"I can't help you," the nurse said, waving her off. "Take your son elsewhere. And put some proper clothes on him."
Joy stood up then. Regally declared, "Come on, Amma. Don't bother with this woman."
But Selvi Aunty wasn't done yet. She leaned across the table and stared into the nurse's eyes like a cobra hypnotizing its prey.
"Not my son," she said quietly. "My daughter. Who is ten times the woman you will ever be."
Q. From the given passage, which of the following can we infer about Selvi Aunty?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
After one particular show, I went up to chat with Jai. He did not return my greeting. A bit awkwardly I asked him, "Enjoyed the show?"
"Sure," he said and then snickered, "We love the entertainment but if you think any of these chaps are actually going to actually change because of your programmes, you are wrong."
"Why do you say that?" I asked him, not quite sure if I really wanted an answer. Jai started telling me his story. He was the son of a wealthy businessman from a posh South Delhi colony. He spoke disparagingly of his family, especially his father, and how he cared for none of them except his little sister. I listened.
We had made it a point not to ask any of the inmates why they were there. But Jai wanted to tell me anyway. He was in jail because he had become a contract killer and had gotten caught. He introduced us to his "friends" in the ward, unsmiling sidekicks who had gotten caught with him.
You see, a hierarchy existed in the ward. Those who had committed the worst crimes were at the top and those who travelled ticketless, at the bottom. He was obviously on top and the others were afraid of him.
About two months into our programmes, Jai asked us, "Are you getting paid for coming here? Why do you keep coming back?" I burst out laughing. We most certainly were not getting paid for visiting Tihar and I told him so. "Then why the hell do you keep coming?"
"Because you matter." said my guitarist friend who was standing next to me, very quietly.
Jai stared at him, shaking his head. He muttered a profanity under his breath and started walking away.
"Just one thing," I said, as I suddenly remembered something I had read. He paused and turned around. "They say anger is like acid. It does more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to the object on which it is poured."
Jai started walking back to me very, very slowly. I suddenly regretted having said anything... I actually thought he was going to hit me. He stopped a foot and a half away from me. I braced myself. Then his eyes went red and filled up. He sat down, put his face in his hands and sobbed.
We didn't say anything for a really long time. Neither did his cronies.
"Yeah." He finally said. "That's true. Thanks."
I don't remember what else we spoke about that day but what I do remember is walking out of the prison thinking how the hardest and most cynical hearts may not actually be so.
Q. What does the word 'disparagingly' as used in the passage mean?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
After one particular show, I went up to chat with Jai. He did not return my greeting. A bit awkwardly I asked him, "Enjoyed the show?"
"Sure," he said and then snickered, "We love the entertainment but if you think any of these chaps are actually going to actually change because of your programmes, you are wrong."
"Why do you say that?" I asked him, not quite sure if I really wanted an answer. Jai started telling me his story. He was the son of a wealthy businessman from a posh South Delhi colony. He spoke disparagingly of his family, especially his father, and how he cared for none of them except his little sister. I listened.
We had made it a point not to ask any of the inmates why they were there. But Jai wanted to tell me anyway. He was in jail because he had become a contract killer and had gotten caught. He introduced us to his "friends" in the ward, unsmiling sidekicks who had gotten caught with him.
You see, a hierarchy existed in the ward. Those who had committed the worst crimes were at the top and those who travelled ticketless, at the bottom. He was obviously on top and the others were afraid of him.
About two months into our programmes, Jai asked us, "Are you getting paid for coming here? Why do you keep coming back?" I burst out laughing. We most certainly were not getting paid for visiting Tihar and I told him so. "Then why the hell do you keep coming?"
"Because you matter." said my guitarist friend who was standing next to me, very quietly.
Jai stared at him, shaking his head. He muttered a profanity under his breath and started walking away.
"Just one thing," I said, as I suddenly remembered something I had read. He paused and turned around. "They say anger is like acid. It does more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to the object on which it is poured."
Jai started walking back to me very, very slowly. I suddenly regretted having said anything... I actually thought he was going to hit me. He stopped a foot and a half away from me. I braced myself. Then his eyes went red and filled up. He sat down, put his face in his hands and sobbed.
We didn't say anything for a really long time. Neither did his cronies.
"Yeah." He finally said. "That's true. Thanks."
I don't remember what else we spoke about that day but what I do remember is walking out of the prison thinking how the hardest and most cynical hearts may not actually be so.
Q. As mentioned in the passage, why did the author's friend tell Jai that he mattered?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
After one particular show, I went up to chat with Jai. He did not return my greeting. A bit awkwardly I asked him, "Enjoyed the show?"
"Sure," he said and then snickered, "We love the entertainment but if you think any of these chaps are actually going to actually change because of your programmes, you are wrong."
"Why do you say that?" I asked him, not quite sure if I really wanted an answer. Jai started telling me his story. He was the son of a wealthy businessman from a posh South Delhi colony. He spoke disparagingly of his family, especially his father, and how he cared for none of them except his little sister. I listened.
We had made it a point not to ask any of the inmates why they were there. But Jai wanted to tell me anyway. He was in jail because he had become a contract killer and had gotten caught. He introduced us to his "friends" in the ward, unsmiling sidekicks who had gotten caught with him.
You see, a hierarchy existed in the ward. Those who had committed the worst crimes were at the top and those who travelled ticketless, at the bottom. He was obviously on top and the others were afraid of him.
About two months into our programmes, Jai asked us, "Are you getting paid for coming here? Why do you keep coming back?" I burst out laughing. We most certainly were not getting paid for visiting Tihar and I told him so. "Then why the hell do you keep coming?"
"Because you matter." said my guitarist friend who was standing next to me, very quietly.
Jai stared at him, shaking his head. He muttered a profanity under his breath and started walking away.
"Just one thing," I said, as I suddenly remembered something I had read. He paused and turned around. "They say anger is like acid. It does more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to the object on which it is poured."
Jai started walking back to me very, very slowly. I suddenly regretted having said anything... I actually thought he was going to hit me. He stopped a foot and a half away from me. I braced myself. Then his eyes went red and filled up. He sat down, put his face in his hands and sobbed.
We didn't say anything for a really long time. Neither did his cronies.
"Yeah." He finally said. "That's true. Thanks."
I don't remember what else we spoke about that day but what I do remember is walking out of the prison thinking how the hardest and most cynical hearts may not actually be so.
Q. Which of the following is implied by the author when he describes people in jail who have 'travelled ticketless'?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
After one particular show, I went up to chat with Jai. He did not return my greeting. A bit awkwardly I asked him, "Enjoyed the show?"
"Sure," he said and then snickered, "We love the entertainment but if you think any of these chaps are actually going to actually change because of your programmes, you are wrong."
"Why do you say that?" I asked him, not quite sure if I really wanted an answer. Jai started telling me his story. He was the son of a wealthy businessman from a posh South Delhi colony. He spoke disparagingly of his family, especially his father, and how he cared for none of them except his little sister. I listened.
We had made it a point not to ask any of the inmates why they were there. But Jai wanted to tell me anyway. He was in jail because he had become a contract killer and had gotten caught. He introduced us to his "friends" in the ward, unsmiling sidekicks who had gotten caught with him.
You see, a hierarchy existed in the ward. Those who had committed the worst crimes were at the top and those who travelled ticketless, at the bottom. He was obviously on top and the others were afraid of him.
About two months into our programmes, Jai asked us, "Are you getting paid for coming here? Why do you keep coming back?" I burst out laughing. We most certainly were not getting paid for visiting Tihar and I told him so. "Then why the hell do you keep coming?"
"Because you matter." said my guitarist friend who was standing next to me, very quietly.
Jai stared at him, shaking his head. He muttered a profanity under his breath and started walking away.
"Just one thing," I said, as I suddenly remembered something I had read. He paused and turned around. "They say anger is like acid. It does more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to the object on which it is poured."
Jai started walking back to me very, very slowly. I suddenly regretted having said anything... I actually thought he was going to hit me. He stopped a foot and a half away from me. I braced myself. Then his eyes went red and filled up. He sat down, put his face in his hands and sobbed.
We didn't say anything for a really long time. Neither did his cronies.
"Yeah." He finally said. "That's true. Thanks."
I don't remember what else we spoke about that day but what I do remember is walking out of the prison thinking how the hardest and most cynical hearts may not actually be so.
Q. From the given passage, which of the following can we infer about Jai?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
After one particular show, I went up to chat with Jai. He did not return my greeting. A bit awkwardly I asked him, "Enjoyed the show?"
"Sure," he said and then snickered, "We love the entertainment but if you think any of these chaps are actually going to actually change because of your programmes, you are wrong."
"Why do you say that?" I asked him, not quite sure if I really wanted an answer. Jai started telling me his story. He was the son of a wealthy businessman from a posh South Delhi colony. He spoke disparagingly of his family, especially his father, and how he cared for none of them except his little sister. I listened.
We had made it a point not to ask any of the inmates why they were there. But Jai wanted to tell me anyway. He was in jail because he had become a contract killer and had gotten caught. He introduced us to his "friends" in the ward, unsmiling sidekicks who had gotten caught with him.
You see, a hierarchy existed in the ward. Those who had committed the worst crimes were at the top and those who travelled ticketless, at the bottom. He was obviously on top and the others were afraid of him.
About two months into our programmes, Jai asked us, "Are you getting paid for coming here? Why do you keep coming back?" I burst out laughing. We most certainly were not getting paid for visiting Tihar and I told him so. "Then why the hell do you keep coming?"
"Because you matter." said my guitarist friend who was standing next to me, very quietly.
Jai stared at him, shaking his head. He muttered a profanity under his breath and started walking away.
"Just one thing," I said, as I suddenly remembered something I had read. He paused and turned around. "They say anger is like acid. It does more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to the object on which it is poured."
Jai started walking back to me very, very slowly. I suddenly regretted having said anything... I actually thought he was going to hit me. He stopped a foot and a half away from me. I braced myself. Then his eyes went red and filled up. He sat down, put his face in his hands and sobbed.
We didn't say anything for a really long time. Neither did his cronies.
"Yeah." He finally said. "That's true. Thanks."
I don't remember what else we spoke about that day but what I do remember is walking out of the prison thinking how the hardest and most cynical hearts may not actually be so.
Q. Which of the following can be inferred from the given passage?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
Institutions in India seem to be acquiring new responsibilities. The University Grants Commission, the regulator of academic standards and other matters relating to higher education, is acquiring the mantle of director. Its directive to all higher education institutions to offer 40 per cent of their courses online on a government-mandated platform and not refuse any student mobility for credits thus acquired, however, comes in the guise of a regulation. Twenty per cent of online courses were permitted earlier; the leap in proportion and the pressure to comply manifest the Centre's desire to make education online. Saying that blended education benefits students more glosses over the grave problems that students and teachers face when in-person classes are not possible. The government is not unaware of the problems students experienced during the pandemic, such as unstable internet connections and regular access to computers and smartphones. Numerous students have been losing out. Strangely enough, the UGC feels that these issues can be ignored.
What is puzzling is the regulator's loss of interest in academic standards. Forcing every institution to break up their courses into online and offline components, with the students allowed to choose the online component from other universities, which, in turn, would be free to arrange the topic in their own way, would destroy coherence. Each institution, meanwhile, would be compelled to match 60 per cent of its course to complement what has been taught online. This regulation rides roughshod over the integrity of the courses as well as the autonomy of educational institutions. There can be no common denominator of division — a physics course cannot be broken up like a course in literature, say, or archaeology. Who will decide on the offline and online components? The UGC obviously does not lay much store by the teachers' belief that meaningful learning happens in in-person classes; online classes can support, not replace, the communication that takes place in a classroom. So it has directed educational institutions to upgrade their digital infrastructure in readiness for online courses. The matter of economics here is a bit obscure. What is certain, however, is that posts, both sanctioned and ad hoc, will shrink and disappear with online courses.
Q. Based on the reading of the passage, what perplexed the author?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
Institutions in India seem to be acquiring new responsibilities. The University Grants Commission, the regulator of academic standards and other matters relating to higher education, is acquiring the mantle of director. Its directive to all higher education institutions to offer 40 per cent of their courses online on a government-mandated platform and not refuse any student mobility for credits thus acquired, however, comes in the guise of a regulation. Twenty per cent of online courses were permitted earlier; the leap in proportion and the pressure to comply manifest the Centre's desire to make education online. Saying that blended education benefits students more glosses over the grave problems that students and teachers face when in-person classes are not possible. The government is not unaware of the problems students experienced during the pandemic, such as unstable internet connections and regular access to computers and smartphones. Numerous students have been losing out. Strangely enough, the UGC feels that these issues can be ignored.
What is puzzling is the regulator's loss of interest in academic standards. Forcing every institution to break up their courses into online and offline components, with the students allowed to choose the online component from other universities, which, in turn, would be free to arrange the topic in their own way, would destroy coherence. Each institution, meanwhile, would be compelled to match 60 per cent of its course to complement what has been taught online. This regulation rides roughshod over the integrity of the courses as well as the autonomy of educational institutions. There can be no common denominator of division — a physics course cannot be broken up like a course in literature, say, or archaeology. Who will decide on the offline and online components? The UGC obviously does not lay much store by the teachers' belief that meaningful learning happens in in-person classes; online classes can support, not replace, the communication that takes place in a classroom. So it has directed educational institutions to upgrade their digital infrastructure in readiness for online courses. The matter of economics here is a bit obscure. What is certain, however, is that posts, both sanctioned and ad hoc, will shrink and disappear with online courses.
Q. Which of the following questions is the author most likely to raise through the passage?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
Institutions in India seem to be acquiring new responsibilities. The University Grants Commission, the regulator of academic standards and other matters relating to higher education, is acquiring the mantle of director. Its directive to all higher education institutions to offer 40 per cent of their courses online on a government-mandated platform and not refuse any student mobility for credits thus acquired, however, comes in the guise of a regulation. Twenty per cent of online courses were permitted earlier; the leap in proportion and the pressure to comply manifest the Centre's desire to make education online. Saying that blended education benefits students more glosses over the grave problems that students and teachers face when in-person classes are not possible. The government is not unaware of the problems students experienced during the pandemic, such as unstable internet connections and regular access to computers and smartphones. Numerous students have been losing out. Strangely enough, the UGC feels that these issues can be ignored.
What is puzzling is the regulator's loss of interest in academic standards. Forcing every institution to break up their courses into online and offline components, with the students allowed to choose the online component from other universities, which, in turn, would be free to arrange the topic in their own way, would destroy coherence. Each institution, meanwhile, would be compelled to match 60 per cent of its course to complement what has been taught online. This regulation rides roughshod over the integrity of the courses as well as the autonomy of educational institutions. There can be no common denominator of division — a physics course cannot be broken up like a course in literature, say, or archaeology. Who will decide on the offline and online components? The UGC obviously does not lay much store by the teachers' belief that meaningful learning happens in in-person classes; online classes can support, not replace, the communication that takes place in a classroom. So it has directed educational institutions to upgrade their digital infrastructure in readiness for online courses. The matter of economics here is a bit obscure. What is certain, however, is that posts, both sanctioned and ad hoc, will shrink and disappear with online courses.
Q. 'Blended education' mentioned in the passage refers to:
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
Institutions in India seem to be acquiring new responsibilities. The University Grants Commission, the regulator of academic standards and other matters relating to higher education, is acquiring the mantle of director. Its directive to all higher education institutions to offer 40 per cent of their courses online on a government-mandated platform and not refuse any student mobility for credits thus acquired, however, comes in the guise of a regulation. Twenty per cent of online courses were permitted earlier; the leap in proportion and the pressure to comply manifest the Centre's desire to make education online. Saying that blended education benefits students more glosses over the grave problems that students and teachers face when in-person classes are not possible. The government is not unaware of the problems students experienced during the pandemic, such as unstable internet connections and regular access to computers and smartphones. Numerous students have been losing out. Strangely enough, the UGC feels that these issues can be ignored.
What is puzzling is the regulator's loss of interest in academic standards. Forcing every institution to break up their courses into online and offline components, with the students allowed to choose the online component from other universities, which, in turn, would be free to arrange the topic in their own way, would destroy coherence. Each institution, meanwhile, would be compelled to match 60 per cent of its course to complement what has been taught online. This regulation rides roughshod over the integrity of the courses as well as the autonomy of educational institutions. There can be no common denominator of division — a physics course cannot be broken up like a course in literature, say, or archaeology. Who will decide on the offline and online components? The UGC obviously does not lay much store by the teachers' belief that meaningful learning happens in in-person classes; online classes can support, not replace, the communication that takes place in a classroom. So it has directed educational institutions to upgrade their digital infrastructure in readiness for online courses. The matter of economics here is a bit obscure. What is certain, however, is that posts, both sanctioned and ad hoc, will shrink and disappear with online courses.
Q. What is the central idea of the passage?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
Institutions in India seem to be acquiring new responsibilities. The University Grants Commission, the regulator of academic standards and other matters relating to higher education, is acquiring the mantle of director. Its directive to all higher education institutions to offer 40 per cent of their courses online on a government-mandated platform and not refuse any student mobility for credits thus acquired, however, comes in the guise of a regulation. Twenty per cent of online courses were permitted earlier; the leap in proportion and the pressure to comply manifest the Centre's desire to make education online. Saying that blended education benefits students more glosses over the grave problems that students and teachers face when in-person classes are not possible. The government is not unaware of the problems students experienced during the pandemic, such as unstable internet connections and regular access to computers and smartphones. Numerous students have been losing out. Strangely enough, the UGC feels that these issues can be ignored.
What is puzzling is the regulator's loss of interest in academic standards. Forcing every institution to break up their courses into online and offline components, with the students allowed to choose the online component from other universities, which, in turn, would be free to arrange the topic in their own way, would destroy coherence. Each institution, meanwhile, would be compelled to match 60 per cent of its course to complement what has been taught online. This regulation rides roughshod over the integrity of the courses as well as the autonomy of educational institutions. There can be no common denominator of division — a physics course cannot be broken up like a course in literature, say, or archaeology. Who will decide on the offline and online components? The UGC obviously does not lay much store by the teachers' belief that meaningful learning happens in in-person classes; online classes can support, not replace, the communication that takes place in a classroom. So it has directed educational institutions to upgrade their digital infrastructure in readiness for online courses. The matter of economics here is a bit obscure. What is certain, however, is that posts, both sanctioned and ad hoc, will shrink and disappear with online courses.
Q. What is the meaning of the phrase 'rides roughshod over' used in the passage?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
The Centre has decided that awards, prizes and fellowships by various ministries and departments need a wholesale relook. The Ministry of Home Affairs, which is executing this directive, has moved much beyond its usual remit of awards for police officers and gallantry medals and irrupted into the world of scientific and medical research. India's scientific ministries recently made presentations to the Union Home Secretary, Ajay Bhalla, on awards given to scientists at different stages of their career. They also had to list out which were 'National Awards' and which were funded out of private endowments. Though a final call is yet to be taken, the quorum — and this consisted of the Secretaries, or the heads of each of these ministries — was of the opinion that most awards ought to be done away with and ministries could either retain only some of the National Awards or institute one or two 'high status' awards. The rationale for pruning, Mr. Bhalla has said, follows from a "vision" of Prime Minister Narendra Modi regarding "Transformation of the Awards Ecosystem". In 2018, Mr. Modi had said that his government had modified the system of the Padma awards and ensured it recognised ordinary people doing selfless work rather than well-known personalities who repeatedly bag them. The awards, Mr. Bhalla has said, ought to be restricted, and have a transparent selection process.
Awards and prizes recognise achievement, but in science and medical research, they are also meant to spur younger scientists towards loftier, imaginative goals. Unlike in sport — or even gallantry awards — where it is relatively easier to define a set of benchmarks and confer medals on achievers, scientific research is open ended, circuitous and — as the history of science reveals — punctuated by lucky breaks. It is possible to train talented youth to be Olympians or international cricketers but impossible to create an Einstein or a Chandrasekhar. Almost every Nobel laureate in the modern era has won various secondary prizes and recognition in their early career and every year; there is as much debate on who was omitted as on the person who won. Recognising early career potential will remain fraught with subjectivity and, with fewer awards on offer, could provoke increased discontent. Contrary to the Prime Minister's vision, fewer awards may actually miss many more promising talents and amplify epaulettes to the already decorated. Awards cost ministries money but the meeting did not discuss whether cutting costs was a factor in the rationalisation. As it is unclear what existing problem the new scheme solves, the Centre should reconsider the merits of its proposal.
Q. It can be said that the author
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
The Centre has decided that awards, prizes and fellowships by various ministries and departments need a wholesale relook. The Ministry of Home Affairs, which is executing this directive, has moved much beyond its usual remit of awards for police officers and gallantry medals and irrupted into the world of scientific and medical research. India's scientific ministries recently made presentations to the Union Home Secretary, Ajay Bhalla, on awards given to scientists at different stages of their career. They also had to list out which were 'National Awards' and which were funded out of private endowments. Though a final call is yet to be taken, the quorum — and this consisted of the Secretaries, or the heads of each of these ministries — was of the opinion that most awards ought to be done away with and ministries could either retain only some of the National Awards or institute one or two 'high status' awards. The rationale for pruning, Mr. Bhalla has said, follows from a "vision" of Prime Minister Narendra Modi regarding "Transformation of the Awards Ecosystem". In 2018, Mr. Modi had said that his government had modified the system of the Padma awards and ensured it recognised ordinary people doing selfless work rather than well-known personalities who repeatedly bag them. The awards, Mr. Bhalla has said, ought to be restricted, and have a transparent selection process.
Awards and prizes recognise achievement, but in science and medical research, they are also meant to spur younger scientists towards loftier, imaginative goals. Unlike in sport — or even gallantry awards — where it is relatively easier to define a set of benchmarks and confer medals on achievers, scientific research is open ended, circuitous and — as the history of science reveals — punctuated by lucky breaks. It is possible to train talented youth to be Olympians or international cricketers but impossible to create an Einstein or a Chandrasekhar. Almost every Nobel laureate in the modern era has won various secondary prizes and recognition in their early career and every year; there is as much debate on who was omitted as on the person who won. Recognising early career potential will remain fraught with subjectivity and, with fewer awards on offer, could provoke increased discontent. Contrary to the Prime Minister's vision, fewer awards may actually miss many more promising talents and amplify epaulettes to the already decorated. Awards cost ministries money but the meeting did not discuss whether cutting costs was a factor in the rationalisation. As it is unclear what existing problem the new scheme solves, the Centre should reconsider the merits of its proposal.
Q. Which of the following statements can be inferred from the passage?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
The Centre has decided that awards, prizes and fellowships by various ministries and departments need a wholesale relook. The Ministry of Home Affairs, which is executing this directive, has moved much beyond its usual remit of awards for police officers and gallantry medals and irrupted into the world of scientific and medical research. India's scientific ministries recently made presentations to the Union Home Secretary, Ajay Bhalla, on awards given to scientists at different stages of their career. They also had to list out which were 'National Awards' and which were funded out of private endowments. Though a final call is yet to be taken, the quorum — and this consisted of the Secretaries, or the heads of each of these ministries — was of the opinion that most awards ought to be done away with and ministries could either retain only some of the National Awards or institute one or two 'high status' awards. The rationale for pruning, Mr. Bhalla has said, follows from a "vision" of Prime Minister Narendra Modi regarding "Transformation of the Awards Ecosystem". In 2018, Mr. Modi had said that his government had modified the system of the Padma awards and ensured it recognised ordinary people doing selfless work rather than well-known personalities who repeatedly bag them. The awards, Mr. Bhalla has said, ought to be restricted, and have a transparent selection process.
Awards and prizes recognise achievement, but in science and medical research, they are also meant to spur younger scientists towards loftier, imaginative goals. Unlike in sport — or even gallantry awards — where it is relatively easier to define a set of benchmarks and confer medals on achievers, scientific research is open ended, circuitous and — as the history of science reveals — punctuated by lucky breaks. It is possible to train talented youth to be Olympians or international cricketers but impossible to create an Einstein or a Chandrasekhar. Almost every Nobel laureate in the modern era has won various secondary prizes and recognition in their early career and every year; there is as much debate on who was omitted as on the person who won. Recognising early career potential will remain fraught with subjectivity and, with fewer awards on offer, could provoke increased discontent. Contrary to the Prime Minister's vision, fewer awards may actually miss many more promising talents and amplify epaulettes to the already decorated. Awards cost ministries money but the meeting did not discuss whether cutting costs was a factor in the rationalisation. As it is unclear what existing problem the new scheme solves, the Centre should reconsider the merits of its proposal.
Q. The government wants to increase the _________ of the award recipients by ________ the number of awards.
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
The Centre has decided that awards, prizes and fellowships by various ministries and departments need a wholesale relook. The Ministry of Home Affairs, which is executing this directive, has moved much beyond its usual remit of awards for police officers and gallantry medals and irrupted into the world of scientific and medical research. India's scientific ministries recently made presentations to the Union Home Secretary, Ajay Bhalla, on awards given to scientists at different stages of their career. They also had to list out which were 'National Awards' and which were funded out of private endowments. Though a final call is yet to be taken, the quorum — and this consisted of the Secretaries, or the heads of each of these ministries — was of the opinion that most awards ought to be done away with and ministries could either retain only some of the National Awards or institute one or two 'high status' awards. The rationale for pruning, Mr. Bhalla has said, follows from a "vision" of Prime Minister Narendra Modi regarding "Transformation of the Awards Ecosystem". In 2018, Mr. Modi had said that his government had modified the system of the Padma awards and ensured it recognised ordinary people doing selfless work rather than well-known personalities who repeatedly bag them. The awards, Mr. Bhalla has said, ought to be restricted, and have a transparent selection process.
Awards and prizes recognise achievement, but in science and medical research, they are also meant to spur younger scientists towards loftier, imaginative goals. Unlike in sport — or even gallantry awards — where it is relatively easier to define a set of benchmarks and confer medals on achievers, scientific research is open ended, circuitous and — as the history of science reveals — punctuated by lucky breaks. It is possible to train talented youth to be Olympians or international cricketers but impossible to create an Einstein or a Chandrasekhar. Almost every Nobel laureate in the modern era has won various secondary prizes and recognition in their early career and every year; there is as much debate on who was omitted as on the person who won. Recognising early career potential will remain fraught with subjectivity and, with fewer awards on offer, could provoke increased discontent. Contrary to the Prime Minister's vision, fewer awards may actually miss many more promising talents and amplify epaulettes to the already decorated. Awards cost ministries money but the meeting did not discuss whether cutting costs was a factor in the rationalisation. As it is unclear what existing problem the new scheme solves, the Centre should reconsider the merits of its proposal.
Q. Which of the following words means the same as 'circuitous'?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
The Centre has decided that awards, prizes and fellowships by various ministries and departments need a wholesale relook. The Ministry of Home Affairs, which is executing this directive, has moved much beyond its usual remit of awards for police officers and gallantry medals and irrupted into the world of scientific and medical research. India's scientific ministries recently made presentations to the Union Home Secretary, Ajay Bhalla, on awards given to scientists at different stages of their career. They also had to list out which were 'National Awards' and which were funded out of private endowments. Though a final call is yet to be taken, the quorum — and this consisted of the Secretaries, or the heads of each of these ministries — was of the opinion that most awards ought to be done away with and ministries could either retain only some of the National Awards or institute one or two 'high status' awards. The rationale for pruning, Mr. Bhalla has said, follows from a "vision" of Prime Minister Narendra Modi regarding "Transformation of the Awards Ecosystem". In 2018, Mr. Modi had said that his government had modified the system of the Padma awards and ensured it recognised ordinary people doing selfless work rather than well-known personalities who repeatedly bag them. The awards, Mr. Bhalla has said, ought to be restricted, and have a transparent selection process.
Awards and prizes recognise achievement, but in science and medical research, they are also meant to spur younger scientists towards loftier, imaginative goals. Unlike in sport — or even gallantry awards — where it is relatively easier to define a set of benchmarks and confer medals on achievers, scientific research is open ended, circuitous and — as the history of science reveals — punctuated by lucky breaks. It is possible to train talented youth to be Olympians or international cricketers but impossible to create an Einstein or a Chandrasekhar. Almost every Nobel laureate in the modern era has won various secondary prizes and recognition in their early career and every year; there is as much debate on who was omitted as on the person who won. Recognising early career potential will remain fraught with subjectivity and, with fewer awards on offer, could provoke increased discontent. Contrary to the Prime Minister's vision, fewer awards may actually miss many more promising talents and amplify epaulettes to the already decorated. Awards cost ministries money but the meeting did not discuss whether cutting costs was a factor in the rationalisation. As it is unclear what existing problem the new scheme solves, the Centre should reconsider the merits of its proposal.
Q. Which of the following serves as the conclusion of the passage?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
Social justice and gender equality are not just nice terms. They have to be taught, imbibed and lived as early as possible. Translation holds hands with science, philosophy, medicine, sociology, religion, and gender and caste studies and militates against homogenisation and promotion of any single ideology, value system or agenda. Languages are intimately linked with the culture and history of the region of their origin and are the most private and yet most public of things. Luminous thoughts that inspire people to a better life are expressed through this medium as are malign campaigns that can bring whole civilisations to the brink. Convoluted rules that can remote control and shackle for life, or words that can empower and sustain a movement for generations — both are facilitated by language. How can we harness this force and build a better India over the next quarter century?
Increased globalisation and immigration have made people aware of cultural differences, which, a century ago did not matter much because we did not have to engage with them as much as we need to today. Since we all live in translational cultures, when words like "global citizen" are used in almost every context, isn't the understanding of what it really means to be equipped for global dialogue missing? Everywhere in the world moral monism is working against cultural pluralism with a steep rise in intolerance and an addiction to indignation pervading the metaspace.
We urgently need a programme of education for national understanding because local ignorance about ourselves and our country is astounding. Even most educated people have no idea of the most urgent social issues facing the nation because they have never been trained to look beyond their personal needs or comfort zones. Worse, they have been raised to feel that this is the way things are meant to be. So, we have a dangerous combination of indifference to people different from ourselves, and a conviction that in order to win someone else has to lose. This can and should be altered by training teachers committed to the promotion of peace and equality to hold value education classes through translated works.
There is next to nothing in our educational system that emphasises looking inward to look beyond the self. The pattern of schooling focuses fiercely on the material world and neglects the intangible aspects of our socio-culture, something which has to change if we don't want to unwittingly sell our souls to the supermarket or fall into amnesia about our past. For those who are concerned about India's stability 25 years from today, I suggest we invest in two things for which we have rich resources: Translation into and out of Indian languages and ethics education in schools and colleges. India at 100 can be a reality if we focus on soft powers: The language of peace, and our multilinguality.
Q. In the last paragraph, the author considers the current education to be
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
Social justice and gender equality are not just nice terms. They have to be taught, imbibed and lived as early as possible. Translation holds hands with science, philosophy, medicine, sociology, religion, and gender and caste studies and militates against homogenisation and promotion of any single ideology, value system or agenda. Languages are intimately linked with the culture and history of the region of their origin and are the most private and yet most public of things. Luminous thoughts that inspire people to a better life are expressed through this medium as are malign campaigns that can bring whole civilisations to the brink. Convoluted rules that can remote control and shackle for life, or words that can empower and sustain a movement for generations — both are facilitated by language. How can we harness this force and build a better India over the next quarter century?
Increased globalisation and immigration have made people aware of cultural differences, which, a century ago did not matter much because we did not have to engage with them as much as we need to today. Since we all live in translational cultures, when words like "global citizen" are used in almost every context, isn't the understanding of what it really means to be equipped for global dialogue missing? Everywhere in the world moral monism is working against cultural pluralism with a steep rise in intolerance and an addiction to indignation pervading the metaspace.
We urgently need a programme of education for national understanding because local ignorance about ourselves and our country is astounding. Even most educated people have no idea of the most urgent social issues facing the nation because they have never been trained to look beyond their personal needs or comfort zones. Worse, they have been raised to feel that this is the way things are meant to be. So, we have a dangerous combination of indifference to people different from ourselves, and a conviction that in order to win someone else has to lose. This can and should be altered by training teachers committed to the promotion of peace and equality to hold value education classes through translated works.
There is next to nothing in our educational system that emphasises looking inward to look beyond the self. The pattern of schooling focuses fiercely on the material world and neglects the intangible aspects of our socio-culture, something which has to change if we don't want to unwittingly sell our souls to the supermarket or fall into amnesia about our past. For those who are concerned about India's stability 25 years from today, I suggest we invest in two things for which we have rich resources: Translation into and out of Indian languages and ethics education in schools and colleges. India at 100 can be a reality if we focus on soft powers: The language of peace, and our multilinguality.
Q. Which of the following statements can be inferred from the passage?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
Social justice and gender equality are not just nice terms. They have to be taught, imbibed and lived as early as possible. Translation holds hands with science, philosophy, medicine, sociology, religion, and gender and caste studies and militates against homogenisation and promotion of any single ideology, value system or agenda. Languages are intimately linked with the culture and history of the region of their origin and are the most private and yet most public of things. Luminous thoughts that inspire people to a better life are expressed through this medium as are malign campaigns that can bring whole civilisations to the brink. Convoluted rules that can remote control and shackle for life, or words that can empower and sustain a movement for generations — both are facilitated by language. How can we harness this force and build a better India over the next quarter century?
Increased globalisation and immigration have made people aware of cultural differences, which, a century ago did not matter much because we did not have to engage with them as much as we need to today. Since we all live in translational cultures, when words like "global citizen" are used in almost every context, isn't the understanding of what it really means to be equipped for global dialogue missing? Everywhere in the world moral monism is working against cultural pluralism with a steep rise in intolerance and an addiction to indignation pervading the metaspace.
We urgently need a programme of education for national understanding because local ignorance about ourselves and our country is astounding. Even most educated people have no idea of the most urgent social issues facing the nation because they have never been trained to look beyond their personal needs or comfort zones. Worse, they have been raised to feel that this is the way things are meant to be. So, we have a dangerous combination of indifference to people different from ourselves, and a conviction that in order to win someone else has to lose. This can and should be altered by training teachers committed to the promotion of peace and equality to hold value education classes through translated works.
There is next to nothing in our educational system that emphasises looking inward to look beyond the self. The pattern of schooling focuses fiercely on the material world and neglects the intangible aspects of our socio-culture, something which has to change if we don't want to unwittingly sell our souls to the supermarket or fall into amnesia about our past. For those who are concerned about India's stability 25 years from today, I suggest we invest in two things for which we have rich resources: Translation into and out of Indian languages and ethics education in schools and colleges. India at 100 can be a reality if we focus on soft powers: The language of peace, and our multilinguality.
Q. From 'Luminous thoughts that inspire . . . bring whole civilisations to the brink', which of the following can be concluded?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
Social justice and gender equality are not just nice terms. They have to be taught, imbibed and lived as early as possible. Translation holds hands with science, philosophy, medicine, sociology, religion, and gender and caste studies and militates against homogenisation and promotion of any single ideology, value system or agenda. Languages are intimately linked with the culture and history of the region of their origin and are the most private and yet most public of things. Luminous thoughts that inspire people to a better life are expressed through this medium as are malign campaigns that can bring whole civilisations to the brink. Convoluted rules that can remote control and shackle for life, or words that can empower and sustain a movement for generations — both are facilitated by language. How can we harness this force and build a better India over the next quarter century?
Increased globalisation and immigration have made people aware of cultural differences, which, a century ago did not matter much because we did not have to engage with them as much as we need to today. Since we all live in translational cultures, when words like "global citizen" are used in almost every context, isn't the understanding of what it really means to be equipped for global dialogue missing? Everywhere in the world moral monism is working against cultural pluralism with a steep rise in intolerance and an addiction to indignation pervading the metaspace.
We urgently need a programme of education for national understanding because local ignorance about ourselves and our country is astounding. Even most educated people have no idea of the most urgent social issues facing the nation because they have never been trained to look beyond their personal needs or comfort zones. Worse, they have been raised to feel that this is the way things are meant to be. So, we have a dangerous combination of indifference to people different from ourselves, and a conviction that in order to win someone else has to lose. This can and should be altered by training teachers committed to the promotion of peace and equality to hold value education classes through translated works.
There is next to nothing in our educational system that emphasises looking inward to look beyond the self. The pattern of schooling focuses fiercely on the material world and neglects the intangible aspects of our socio-culture, something which has to change if we don't want to unwittingly sell our souls to the supermarket or fall into amnesia about our past. For those who are concerned about India's stability 25 years from today, I suggest we invest in two things for which we have rich resources: Translation into and out of Indian languages and ethics education in schools and colleges. India at 100 can be a reality if we focus on soft powers: The language of peace, and our multilinguality.
Q. The tone of the last paragraph is:
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
Social justice and gender equality are not just nice terms. They have to be taught, imbibed and lived as early as possible. Translation holds hands with science, philosophy, medicine, sociology, religion, and gender and caste studies and militates against homogenisation and promotion of any single ideology, value system or agenda. Languages are intimately linked with the culture and history of the region of their origin and are the most private and yet most public of things. Luminous thoughts that inspire people to a better life are expressed through this medium as are malign campaigns that can bring whole civilisations to the brink. Convoluted rules that can remote control and shackle for life, or words that can empower and sustain a movement for generations — both are facilitated by language. How can we harness this force and build a better India over the next quarter century?
Increased globalisation and immigration have made people aware of cultural differences, which, a century ago did not matter much because we did not have to engage with them as much as we need to today. Since we all live in translational cultures, when words like "global citizen" are used in almost every context, isn't the understanding of what it really means to be equipped for global dialogue missing? Everywhere in the world moral monism is working against cultural pluralism with a steep rise in intolerance and an addiction to indignation pervading the metaspace.
We urgently need a programme of education for national understanding because local ignorance about ourselves and our country is astounding. Even most educated people have no idea of the most urgent social issues facing the nation because they have never been trained to look beyond their personal needs or comfort zones. Worse, they have been raised to feel that this is the way things are meant to be. So, we have a dangerous combination of indifference to people different from ourselves, and a conviction that in order to win someone else has to lose. This can and should be altered by training teachers committed to the promotion of peace and equality to hold value education classes through translated works.
There is next to nothing in our educational system that emphasises looking inward to look beyond the self. The pattern of schooling focuses fiercely on the material world and neglects the intangible aspects of our socio-culture, something which has to change if we don't want to unwittingly sell our souls to the supermarket or fall into amnesia about our past. For those who are concerned about India's stability 25 years from today, I suggest we invest in two things for which we have rich resources: Translation into and out of Indian languages and ethics education in schools and colleges. India at 100 can be a reality if we focus on soft powers: The language of peace, and our multilinguality.
Q. Which of the following words is farthest in meaning to the word given below?
Indignation
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
There has been a tendency for long to tag the word "mythical" with the Saraswati river. The constant tagging has its purpose. Whenever a reader now reads the word Saraswati, his/her mind automatically adds the word mythical, even if the word is actually missing in print. This brings us to the question: Was Saraswati really a mythical river that existed only in the imagination of the writers and sages who composed the Vedas? Saraswati is among the most discussed rivers in the context of Indian history, the waters of which once flowed from the Himalayas to the Arabian Sea, separate from the other historically famous Indus river. Besides the river being mentioned repeatedly in the Vedas, Puranas, and the epics, in the first half of the 19th century, James Tod, an officer with the British East India company while documenting his extensive travels and explorations of Rajasthan, called it the "lost river of the desert", and detailing its route said the river originated somewhere in the Siwalik Himalayas. It was a few years later in 1855 that French geographer Louis Vivien de Saint-Martin first pointed out specifically that Ghaggar river was the remnant of the Rig Vedic Saraswati river. He made his derivations after studying various reports on the wide dry river bed lying between the Sutlej and the Yamuna rivers which were made by British topographers. That area was also exactly the location where Rig Veda mentioned the Saraswati river to be.
Later, in 1874 (Oldham, CF), after more extensive studies, concluded that the course of the 'lost river of the desert' or Saraswati was indeed the present route of the Ghaggar-Hakra river that lies between Akalgarh-Tohana (Punjab in India), and Khangarh in Pakistan. Oldham made his conclusions based on extensive studies of the now mostly dry river beds and surrounding landscapes, from both on ground explorations and reading survey maps.
Archaeologists, such as Cunningham, M. A. Stein, Mortimer Wheeler, A. Ghosh, etc. have all agreed with the Ghaggar river being the Saraswati river. Post-Independence excavations in the 1950s headed by Amalananda Ghosh in Saraswati (Ghaggar) and Drishadvati (Chautang) led to the discovery of hundreds of Harappan era sites in the Ghaggar river basin. In 1974, on the Pakistani side, archaeologist Mohammad Rafique Mughal found 171 sites of the mature Harappan phase in the Cholistan desert, thus documenting the fact that Sarasvati basin (Ghaggar–Hakra) totalled more than 360 sites of the mature phase, which then accounted for nearly one-third (32 percent) of the 1,200 known such sites in the entire Harappan region. In Gujarat, S. R. Rao discovered a few more sites including the famous Lothal port town. When all the numbers are added, it gives a whopping figure of 2,378 Harappan sites. Looking at the figures, it is evident why the change of name from the Indus Valley civilisation to the Saraswati Indus/Sindhu civilisation for India's ancient most culture is an appropriate one.
Q. In the context of the passage, which of the following is least likely to be used to tag Saraswati?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
There has been a tendency for long to tag the word "mythical" with the Saraswati river. The constant tagging has its purpose. Whenever a reader now reads the word Saraswati, his/her mind automatically adds the word mythical, even if the word is actually missing in print. This brings us to the question: Was Saraswati really a mythical river that existed only in the imagination of the writers and sages who composed the Vedas? Saraswati is among the most discussed rivers in the context of Indian history, the waters of which once flowed from the Himalayas to the Arabian Sea, separate from the other historically famous Indus river. Besides the river being mentioned repeatedly in the Vedas, Puranas, and the epics, in the first half of the 19th century, James Tod, an officer with the British East India company while documenting his extensive travels and explorations of Rajasthan, called it the "lost river of the desert", and detailing its route said the river originated somewhere in the Siwalik Himalayas. It was a few years later in 1855 that French geographer Louis Vivien de Saint-Martin first pointed out specifically that Ghaggar river was the remnant of the Rig Vedic Saraswati river. He made his derivations after studying various reports on the wide dry river bed lying between the Sutlej and the Yamuna rivers which were made by British topographers. That area was also exactly the location where Rig Veda mentioned the Saraswati river to be.
Later, in 1874 (Oldham, CF), after more extensive studies, concluded that the course of the 'lost river of the desert' or Saraswati was indeed the present route of the Ghaggar-Hakra river that lies between Akalgarh-Tohana (Punjab in India), and Khangarh in Pakistan. Oldham made his conclusions based on extensive studies of the now mostly dry river beds and surrounding landscapes, from both on ground explorations and reading survey maps.
Archaeologists, such as Cunningham, M. A. Stein, Mortimer Wheeler, A. Ghosh, etc. have all agreed with the Ghaggar river being the Saraswati river. Post-Independence excavations in the 1950s headed by Amalananda Ghosh in Saraswati (Ghaggar) and Drishadvati (Chautang) led to the discovery of hundreds of Harappan era sites in the Ghaggar river basin. In 1974, on the Pakistani side, archaeologist Mohammad Rafique Mughal found 171 sites of the mature Harappan phase in the Cholistan desert, thus documenting the fact that Sarasvati basin (Ghaggar–Hakra) totalled more than 360 sites of the mature phase, which then accounted for nearly one-third (32 percent) of the 1,200 known such sites in the entire Harappan region. In Gujarat, S. R. Rao discovered a few more sites including the famous Lothal port town. When all the numbers are added, it gives a whopping figure of 2,378 Harappan sites. Looking at the figures, it is evident why the change of name from the Indus Valley civilisation to the Saraswati Indus/Sindhu civilisation for India's ancient most culture is an appropriate one.
Q. The author is trying to ________ the change in the name of Indus valley civilisation by ______ the discovery of hundreds of Harappan sites.
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
There has been a tendency for long to tag the word "mythical" with the Saraswati river. The constant tagging has its purpose. Whenever a reader now reads the word Saraswati, his/her mind automatically adds the word mythical, even if the word is actually missing in print. This brings us to the question: Was Saraswati really a mythical river that existed only in the imagination of the writers and sages who composed the Vedas? Saraswati is among the most discussed rivers in the context of Indian history, the waters of which once flowed from the Himalayas to the Arabian Sea, separate from the other historically famous Indus river. Besides the river being mentioned repeatedly in the Vedas, Puranas, and the epics, in the first half of the 19th century, James Tod, an officer with the British East India company while documenting his extensive travels and explorations of Rajasthan, called it the "lost river of the desert", and detailing its route said the river originated somewhere in the Siwalik Himalayas. It was a few years later in 1855 that French geographer Louis Vivien de Saint-Martin first pointed out specifically that Ghaggar river was the remnant of the Rig Vedic Saraswati river. He made his derivations after studying various reports on the wide dry river bed lying between the Sutlej and the Yamuna rivers which were made by British topographers. That area was also exactly the location where Rig Veda mentioned the Saraswati river to be.
Later, in 1874 (Oldham, CF), after more extensive studies, concluded that the course of the 'lost river of the desert' or Saraswati was indeed the present route of the Ghaggar-Hakra river that lies between Akalgarh-Tohana (Punjab in India), and Khangarh in Pakistan. Oldham made his conclusions based on extensive studies of the now mostly dry river beds and surrounding landscapes, from both on ground explorations and reading survey maps.
Archaeologists, such as Cunningham, M. A. Stein, Mortimer Wheeler, A. Ghosh, etc. have all agreed with the Ghaggar river being the Saraswati river. Post-Independence excavations in the 1950s headed by Amalananda Ghosh in Saraswati (Ghaggar) and Drishadvati (Chautang) led to the discovery of hundreds of Harappan era sites in the Ghaggar river basin. In 1974, on the Pakistani side, archaeologist Mohammad Rafique Mughal found 171 sites of the mature Harappan phase in the Cholistan desert, thus documenting the fact that Sarasvati basin (Ghaggar–Hakra) totalled more than 360 sites of the mature phase, which then accounted for nearly one-third (32 percent) of the 1,200 known such sites in the entire Harappan region. In Gujarat, S. R. Rao discovered a few more sites including the famous Lothal port town. When all the numbers are added, it gives a whopping figure of 2,378 Harappan sites. Looking at the figures, it is evident why the change of name from the Indus Valley civilisation to the Saraswati Indus/Sindhu civilisation for India's ancient most culture is an appropriate one.
Q. Which of the following is the conclusion of the passage?
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
There has been a tendency for long to tag the word "mythical" with the Saraswati river. The constant tagging has its purpose. Whenever a reader now reads the word Saraswati, his/her mind automatically adds the word mythical, even if the word is actually missing in print. This brings us to the question: Was Saraswati really a mythical river that existed only in the imagination of the writers and sages who composed the Vedas? Saraswati is among the most discussed rivers in the context of Indian history, the waters of which once flowed from the Himalayas to the Arabian Sea, separate from the other historically famous Indus river. Besides the river being mentioned repeatedly in the Vedas, Puranas, and the epics, in the first half of the 19th century, James Tod, an officer with the British East India company while documenting his extensive travels and explorations of Rajasthan, called it the "lost river of the desert", and detailing its route said the river originated somewhere in the Siwalik Himalayas. It was a few years later in 1855 that French geographer Louis Vivien de Saint-Martin first pointed out specifically that Ghaggar river was the remnant of the Rig Vedic Saraswati river. He made his derivations after studying various reports on the wide dry river bed lying between the Sutlej and the Yamuna rivers which were made by British topographers. That area was also exactly the location where Rig Veda mentioned the Saraswati river to be.
Later, in 1874 (Oldham, CF), after more extensive studies, concluded that the course of the 'lost river of the desert' or Saraswati was indeed the present route of the Ghaggar-Hakra river that lies between Akalgarh-Tohana (Punjab in India), and Khangarh in Pakistan. Oldham made his conclusions based on extensive studies of the now mostly dry river beds and surrounding landscapes, from both on ground explorations and reading survey maps.
Archaeologists, such as Cunningham, M. A. Stein, Mortimer Wheeler, A. Ghosh, etc. have all agreed with the Ghaggar river being the Saraswati river. Post-Independence excavations in the 1950s headed by Amalananda Ghosh in Saraswati (Ghaggar) and Drishadvati (Chautang) led to the discovery of hundreds of Harappan era sites in the Ghaggar river basin. In 1974, on the Pakistani side, archaeologist Mohammad Rafique Mughal found 171 sites of the mature Harappan phase in the Cholistan desert, thus documenting the fact that Sarasvati basin (Ghaggar–Hakra) totalled more than 360 sites of the mature phase, which then accounted for nearly one-third (32 percent) of the 1,200 known such sites in the entire Harappan region. In Gujarat, S. R. Rao discovered a few more sites including the famous Lothal port town. When all the numbers are added, it gives a whopping figure of 2,378 Harappan sites. Looking at the figures, it is evident why the change of name from the Indus Valley civilisation to the Saraswati Indus/Sindhu civilisation for India's ancient most culture is an appropriate one.
Q. From the passage it is evident that the change of name from the Indus Valley civilisation to the Saraswati Indus civilisation is appropriate:
Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.
There has been a tendency for long to tag the word "mythical" with the Saraswati river. The constant tagging has its purpose. Whenever a reader now reads the word Saraswati, his/her mind automatically adds the word mythical, even if the word is actually missing in print. This brings us to the question: Was Saraswati really a mythical river that existed only in the imagination of the writers and sages who composed the Vedas? Saraswati is among the most discussed rivers in the context of Indian history, the waters of which once flowed from the Himalayas to the Arabian Sea, separate from the other historically famous Indus river. Besides the river being mentioned repeatedly in the Vedas, Puranas, and the epics, in the first half of the 19th century, James Tod, an officer with the British East India company while documenting his extensive travels and explorations of Rajasthan, called it the "lost river of the desert", and detailing its route said the river originated somewhere in the Siwalik Himalayas. It was a few years later in 1855 that French geographer Louis Vivien de Saint-Martin first pointed out specifically that Ghaggar river was the remnant of the Rig Vedic Saraswati river. He made his derivations after studying various reports on the wide dry river bed lying between the Sutlej and the Yamuna rivers which were made by British topographers. That area was also exactly the location where Rig Veda mentioned the Saraswati river to be.
Later, in 1874 (Oldham, CF), after more extensive studies, concluded that the course of the 'lost river of the desert' or Saraswati was indeed the present route of the Ghaggar-Hakra river that lies between Akalgarh-Tohana (Punjab in India), and Khangarh in Pakistan. Oldham made his conclusions based on extensive studies of the now mostly dry river beds and surrounding landscapes, from both on ground explorations and reading survey maps.
Archaeologists, such as Cunningham, M. A. Stein, Mortimer Wheeler, A. Ghosh, etc. have all agreed with the Ghaggar river being the Saraswati river. Post-Independence excavations in the 1950s headed by Amalananda Ghosh in Saraswati (Ghaggar) and Drishadvati (Chautang) led to the discovery of hundreds of Harappan era sites in the Ghaggar river basin. In 1974, on the Pakistani side, archaeologist Mohammad Rafique Mughal found 171 sites of the mature Harappan phase in the Cholistan desert, thus documenting the fact that Sarasvati basin (Ghaggar–Hakra) totalled more than 360 sites of the mature phase, which then accounted for nearly one-third (32 percent) of the 1,200 known such sites in the entire Harappan region. In Gujarat, S. R. Rao discovered a few more sites including the famous Lothal port town. When all the numbers are added, it gives a whopping figure of 2,378 Harappan sites. Looking at the figures, it is evident why the change of name from the Indus Valley civilisation to the Saraswati Indus/Sindhu civilisation for India's ancient most culture is an appropriate one.
Q. Which of the following can be inferred from the passage?