Read the following passage and answer the question.
One minute the lamb was there, and the next it was not! "I saw it a moment ago," said Tara to her brother, who was helping her create the cattle stall. "It was here among the other animals," she went on. "Where on earth could it have gone?"
Tarun, busy finding a suitable spot for a pair of pigeons on the rafters of the thatched roof, laid the birds aside. They looked under stools and chairs and all over the sofa. They even sifted through the glittering ornaments that would soon adorn the Christmas tree.
"Are you sure it was put away with all our other stuff last year?" said Tarun. "I mean, did it get left behind, when we were packing our Christmas decorations? If I remember correctly, I took down the bells, baubles, lights and tinsel, while you were in charge of everything not on the tree."
Tara nodded. "I made sure every piece went safely into the box. You know how attached we are to them. They may not be expensive, but we've had them for years, and they are still so bright and beautiful."
"Of course, we've had to hide the broken ear of one of the wise men by positioning him behind the others," said Tarun, smiling. "Then there's Bessie, our cute tailless cow." He spoke lightly, but he was as upset as Tara that they could not locate the lamb.
A casual observer might not have understood the siblings' feelings. Apart from Mary and Joseph, the wise men and shepherds, there were sheep and cows, besides three stately camels. The lamb was among the smaller pieces, even tinier than the infant Jesus, who was at the heart of the stable setting. Everything seemed complete, but Tara and Tarun were not satisfied.
"You remind me of the story in the Bible," said their mother, who had been listening to the children. Jesus said that a shepherd left his flock of 99 sheep to search for the one that was lost. He meant that every one of us is precious. God does not want any of us out of His sight, anymore than you feel your Nativity scene is perfect without the lamb. If you look closely, you'll see that your baby is curled up with the Baby in the manger. Appropriately enough, the lost lamb is seated beside the Lamb of God, who came to seek and save us."
Q. Which of the following cannot be rightly inferred from the given passage?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
One minute the lamb was there, and the next it was not! "I saw it a moment ago," said Tara to her brother, who was helping her create the cattle stall. "It was here among the other animals," she went on. "Where on earth could it have gone?"
Tarun, busy finding a suitable spot for a pair of pigeons on the rafters of the thatched roof, laid the birds aside. They looked under stools and chairs and all over the sofa. They even sifted through the glittering ornaments that would soon adorn the Christmas tree.
"Are you sure it was put away with all our other stuff last year?" said Tarun. "I mean, did it get left behind, when we were packing our Christmas decorations? If I remember correctly, I took down the bells, baubles, lights and tinsel, while you were in charge of everything not on the tree."
Tara nodded. "I made sure every piece went safely into the box. You know how attached we are to them. They may not be expensive, but we've had them for years, and they are still so bright and beautiful."
"Of course, we've had to hide the broken ear of one of the wise men by positioning him behind the others," said Tarun, smiling. "Then there's Bessie, our cute tailless cow." He spoke lightly, but he was as upset as Tara that they could not locate the lamb.
A casual observer might not have understood the siblings' feelings. Apart from Mary and Joseph, the wise men and shepherds, there were sheep and cows, besides three stately camels. The lamb was among the smaller pieces, even tinier than the infant Jesus, who was at the heart of the stable setting. Everything seemed complete, but Tara and Tarun were not satisfied.
"You remind me of the story in the Bible," said their mother, who had been listening to the children. Jesus said that a shepherd left his flock of 99 sheep to search for the one that was lost. He meant that every one of us is precious. God does not want any of us out of His sight, anymore than you feel your Nativity scene is perfect without the lamb. If you look closely, you'll see that your baby is curled up with the Baby in the manger. Appropriately enough, the lost lamb is seated beside the Lamb of God, who came to seek and save us."
Q. Based on the information set out in the passage, which of the following is most accurate?
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Read the following passage and answer the question.
One minute the lamb was there, and the next it was not! "I saw it a moment ago," said Tara to her brother, who was helping her create the cattle stall. "It was here among the other animals," she went on. "Where on earth could it have gone?"
Tarun, busy finding a suitable spot for a pair of pigeons on the rafters of the thatched roof, laid the birds aside. They looked under stools and chairs and all over the sofa. They even sifted through the glittering ornaments that would soon adorn the Christmas tree.
"Are you sure it was put away with all our other stuff last year?" said Tarun. "I mean, did it get left behind, when we were packing our Christmas decorations? If I remember correctly, I took down the bells, baubles, lights and tinsel, while you were in charge of everything not on the tree."
Tara nodded. "I made sure every piece went safely into the box. You know how attached we are to them. They may not be expensive, but we've had them for years, and they are still so bright and beautiful."
"Of course, we've had to hide the broken ear of one of the wise men by positioning him behind the others," said Tarun, smiling. "Then there's Bessie, our cute tailless cow." He spoke lightly, but he was as upset as Tara that they could not locate the lamb.
A casual observer might not have understood the siblings' feelings. Apart from Mary and Joseph, the wise men and shepherds, there were sheep and cows, besides three stately camels. The lamb was among the smaller pieces, even tinier than the infant Jesus, who was at the heart of the stable setting. Everything seemed complete, but Tara and Tarun were not satisfied.
"You remind me of the story in the Bible," said their mother, who had been listening to the children. Jesus said that a shepherd left his flock of 99 sheep to search for the one that was lost. He meant that every one of us is precious. God does not want any of us out of His sight, anymore than you feel your Nativity scene is perfect without the lamb. If you look closely, you'll see that your baby is curled up with the Baby in the manger. Appropriately enough, the lost lamb is seated beside the Lamb of God, who came to seek and save us."
Q. Which of the following is the author most likely to agree with based on the contents of the given passage?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
One minute the lamb was there, and the next it was not! "I saw it a moment ago," said Tara to her brother, who was helping her create the cattle stall. "It was here among the other animals," she went on. "Where on earth could it have gone?"
Tarun, busy finding a suitable spot for a pair of pigeons on the rafters of the thatched roof, laid the birds aside. They looked under stools and chairs and all over the sofa. They even sifted through the glittering ornaments that would soon adorn the Christmas tree.
"Are you sure it was put away with all our other stuff last year?" said Tarun. "I mean, did it get left behind, when we were packing our Christmas decorations? If I remember correctly, I took down the bells, baubles, lights and tinsel, while you were in charge of everything not on the tree."
Tara nodded. "I made sure every piece went safely into the box. You know how attached we are to them. They may not be expensive, but we've had them for years, and they are still so bright and beautiful."
"Of course, we've had to hide the broken ear of one of the wise men by positioning him behind the others," said Tarun, smiling. "Then there's Bessie, our cute tailless cow." He spoke lightly, but he was as upset as Tara that they could not locate the lamb.
A casual observer might not have understood the siblings' feelings. Apart from Mary and Joseph, the wise men and shepherds, there were sheep and cows, besides three stately camels. The lamb was among the smaller pieces, even tinier than the infant Jesus, who was at the heart of the stable setting. Everything seemed complete, but Tara and Tarun were not satisfied.
"You remind me of the story in the Bible," said their mother, who had been listening to the children. Jesus said that a shepherd left his flock of 99 sheep to search for the one that was lost. He meant that every one of us is precious. God does not want any of us out of His sight, anymore than you feel your Nativity scene is perfect without the lamb. If you look closely, you'll see that your baby is curled up with the Baby in the manger. Appropriately enough, the lost lamb is seated beside the Lamb of God, who came to seek and save us."
Q. What does the word 'adorn' as used in the passage mean?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
One minute the lamb was there, and the next it was not! "I saw it a moment ago," said Tara to her brother, who was helping her create the cattle stall. "It was here among the other animals," she went on. "Where on earth could it have gone?"
Tarun, busy finding a suitable spot for a pair of pigeons on the rafters of the thatched roof, laid the birds aside. They looked under stools and chairs and all over the sofa. They even sifted through the glittering ornaments that would soon adorn the Christmas tree.
"Are you sure it was put away with all our other stuff last year?" said Tarun. "I mean, did it get left behind, when we were packing our Christmas decorations? If I remember correctly, I took down the bells, baubles, lights and tinsel, while you were in charge of everything not on the tree."
Tara nodded. "I made sure every piece went safely into the box. You know how attached we are to them. They may not be expensive, but we've had them for years, and they are still so bright and beautiful."
"Of course, we've had to hide the broken ear of one of the wise men by positioning him behind the others," said Tarun, smiling. "Then there's Bessie, our cute tailless cow." He spoke lightly, but he was as upset as Tara that they could not locate the lamb.
A casual observer might not have understood the siblings' feelings. Apart from Mary and Joseph, the wise men and shepherds, there were sheep and cows, besides three stately camels. The lamb was among the smaller pieces, even tinier than the infant Jesus, who was at the heart of the stable setting. Everything seemed complete, but Tara and Tarun were not satisfied.
"You remind me of the story in the Bible," said their mother, who had been listening to the children. Jesus said that a shepherd left his flock of 99 sheep to search for the one that was lost. He meant that every one of us is precious. God does not want any of us out of His sight, anymore than you feel your Nativity scene is perfect without the lamb. If you look closely, you'll see that your baby is curled up with the Baby in the manger. Appropriately enough, the lost lamb is seated beside the Lamb of God, who came to seek and save us."
Q. Based on information from the passage, which of the following can we infer from the mother's recounting of the Bible's story?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
Here's my latest report on things grown-ups say but don't actually mean.
So, our school's Annual Day finally happened last week and I couldn't be happier. This year, I decided that I wanted to try something different, so I opted for media and editing. What's that, you ask? Who cares, I thought. As long as I didn't have to dress up as a sunflower and wave my arms about while lip-synching to the song by Post Malone, I didn't really care.
But to be honest, I thought media and editing would be cool. That I'd learn how to create special effects which I could then use on my YouTube channel. That it would launch my movie career. HA! Can you tell that that is not what happened?
A tad off?
First, the Sir who taught us editing was not some cool guy with amazing stories about how he worked on The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. He worked in an IT company and spent most of his time 'writing code'. And not cool spy code but Python. Bleh.
Well, after he taught us a few of the basics, we were divided into groups and told to start working on backdrops for some of the scenes in the production. When we went to him with ideas and images and clips he kept waving us away and saying "No! No! Show me the final thing. And remember, it's not about being perfect! It's about learning."
DOUBLE HA!
So, after spending weeks and weeks finding stuff and putting it together, Sir finally takes a look and tells us that it's terrible! That we can't have work like this up on the stage. That we should have come to him sooner. That it was all a terrible disaster. Are you confused by his reaction? I sure was.
I don't know if you've ever tried to correct a grown up, but let me save you the trouble and tell you not to bother. They hate being reminded that they said one thing and are doing the exact opposite. When we tried to tell Sir that we had come to him with ideas and that he said perfection didn't matter — he kicked us off the team! YUP! You read that right. He said that if we'd spent more time working and less time arguing and answering back, then our work would have looked better.
So, I present to you 'Things grownups say but don't actually mean #103: The results don't matter, the learning does'. You can also apply this to chemistry lab explosions and getting your report card signed by your parents.
I had to spend the rest of Annual Day practice as an understudy. To a lamp post.
Q. Which of the following cannot be rightly inferred from the given passage?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
Here's my latest report on things grown-ups say but don't actually mean.
So, our school's Annual Day finally happened last week and I couldn't be happier. This year, I decided that I wanted to try something different, so I opted for media and editing. What's that, you ask? Who cares, I thought. As long as I didn't have to dress up as a sunflower and wave my arms about while lip-synching to the song by Post Malone, I didn't really care.
But to be honest, I thought media and editing would be cool. That I'd learn how to create special effects which I could then use on my YouTube channel. That it would launch my movie career. HA! Can you tell that that is not what happened?
A tad off?
First, the Sir who taught us editing was not some cool guy with amazing stories about how he worked on The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. He worked in an IT company and spent most of his time 'writing code'. And not cool spy code but Python. Bleh.
Well, after he taught us a few of the basics, we were divided into groups and told to start working on backdrops for some of the scenes in the production. When we went to him with ideas and images and clips he kept waving us away and saying "No! No! Show me the final thing. And remember, it's not about being perfect! It's about learning."
DOUBLE HA!
So, after spending weeks and weeks finding stuff and putting it together, Sir finally takes a look and tells us that it's terrible! That we can't have work like this up on the stage. That we should have come to him sooner. That it was all a terrible disaster. Are you confused by his reaction? I sure was.
I don't know if you've ever tried to correct a grown up, but let me save you the trouble and tell you not to bother. They hate being reminded that they said one thing and are doing the exact opposite. When we tried to tell Sir that we had come to him with ideas and that he said perfection didn't matter — he kicked us off the team! YUP! You read that right. He said that if we'd spent more time working and less time arguing and answering back, then our work would have looked better.
So, I present to you 'Things grownups say but don't actually mean #103: The results don't matter, the learning does'. You can also apply this to chemistry lab explosions and getting your report card signed by your parents.
I had to spend the rest of Annual Day practice as an understudy. To a lamp post.
Q. According to the passage, which of the following actions can also be an example of 'things grownups say but don't actually mean'?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
Here's my latest report on things grown-ups say but don't actually mean.
So, our school's Annual Day finally happened last week and I couldn't be happier. This year, I decided that I wanted to try something different, so I opted for media and editing. What's that, you ask? Who cares, I thought. As long as I didn't have to dress up as a sunflower and wave my arms about while lip-synching to the song by Post Malone, I didn't really care.
But to be honest, I thought media and editing would be cool. That I'd learn how to create special effects which I could then use on my YouTube channel. That it would launch my movie career. HA! Can you tell that that is not what happened?
A tad off?
First, the Sir who taught us editing was not some cool guy with amazing stories about how he worked on The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. He worked in an IT company and spent most of his time 'writing code'. And not cool spy code but Python. Bleh.
Well, after he taught us a few of the basics, we were divided into groups and told to start working on backdrops for some of the scenes in the production. When we went to him with ideas and images and clips he kept waving us away and saying "No! No! Show me the final thing. And remember, it's not about being perfect! It's about learning."
DOUBLE HA!
So, after spending weeks and weeks finding stuff and putting it together, Sir finally takes a look and tells us that it's terrible! That we can't have work like this up on the stage. That we should have come to him sooner. That it was all a terrible disaster. Are you confused by his reaction? I sure was.
I don't know if you've ever tried to correct a grown up, but let me save you the trouble and tell you not to bother. They hate being reminded that they said one thing and are doing the exact opposite. When we tried to tell Sir that we had come to him with ideas and that he said perfection didn't matter — he kicked us off the team! YUP! You read that right. He said that if we'd spent more time working and less time arguing and answering back, then our work would have looked better.
So, I present to you 'Things grownups say but don't actually mean #103: The results don't matter, the learning does'. You can also apply this to chemistry lab explosions and getting your report card signed by your parents.
I had to spend the rest of Annual Day practice as an understudy. To a lamp post.
Q. What does the word 'opted' as used in the passage mean?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
Here's my latest report on things grown-ups say but don't actually mean.
So, our school's Annual Day finally happened last week and I couldn't be happier. This year, I decided that I wanted to try something different, so I opted for media and editing. What's that, you ask? Who cares, I thought. As long as I didn't have to dress up as a sunflower and wave my arms about while lip-synching to the song by Post Malone, I didn't really care.
But to be honest, I thought media and editing would be cool. That I'd learn how to create special effects which I could then use on my YouTube channel. That it would launch my movie career. HA! Can you tell that that is not what happened?
A tad off?
First, the Sir who taught us editing was not some cool guy with amazing stories about how he worked on The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. He worked in an IT company and spent most of his time 'writing code'. And not cool spy code but Python. Bleh.
Well, after he taught us a few of the basics, we were divided into groups and told to start working on backdrops for some of the scenes in the production. When we went to him with ideas and images and clips he kept waving us away and saying "No! No! Show me the final thing. And remember, it's not about being perfect! It's about learning."
DOUBLE HA!
So, after spending weeks and weeks finding stuff and putting it together, Sir finally takes a look and tells us that it's terrible! That we can't have work like this up on the stage. That we should have come to him sooner. That it was all a terrible disaster. Are you confused by his reaction? I sure was.
I don't know if you've ever tried to correct a grown up, but let me save you the trouble and tell you not to bother. They hate being reminded that they said one thing and are doing the exact opposite. When we tried to tell Sir that we had come to him with ideas and that he said perfection didn't matter — he kicked us off the team! YUP! You read that right. He said that if we'd spent more time working and less time arguing and answering back, then our work would have looked better.
So, I present to you 'Things grownups say but don't actually mean #103: The results don't matter, the learning does'. You can also apply this to chemistry lab explosions and getting your report card signed by your parents.
I had to spend the rest of Annual Day practice as an understudy. To a lamp post.
Q. Why, according to the author, is it best not to correct a grown-up?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
Here's my latest report on things grown-ups say but don't actually mean.
So, our school's Annual Day finally happened last week and I couldn't be happier. This year, I decided that I wanted to try something different, so I opted for media and editing. What's that, you ask? Who cares, I thought. As long as I didn't have to dress up as a sunflower and wave my arms about while lip-synching to the song by Post Malone, I didn't really care.
But to be honest, I thought media and editing would be cool. That I'd learn how to create special effects which I could then use on my YouTube channel. That it would launch my movie career. HA! Can you tell that that is not what happened?
A tad off?
First, the Sir who taught us editing was not some cool guy with amazing stories about how he worked on The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. He worked in an IT company and spent most of his time 'writing code'. And not cool spy code but Python. Bleh.
Well, after he taught us a few of the basics, we were divided into groups and told to start working on backdrops for some of the scenes in the production. When we went to him with ideas and images and clips he kept waving us away and saying "No! No! Show me the final thing. And remember, it's not about being perfect! It's about learning."
DOUBLE HA!
So, after spending weeks and weeks finding stuff and putting it together, Sir finally takes a look and tells us that it's terrible! That we can't have work like this up on the stage. That we should have come to him sooner. That it was all a terrible disaster. Are you confused by his reaction? I sure was.
I don't know if you've ever tried to correct a grown up, but let me save you the trouble and tell you not to bother. They hate being reminded that they said one thing and are doing the exact opposite. When we tried to tell Sir that we had come to him with ideas and that he said perfection didn't matter — he kicked us off the team! YUP! You read that right. He said that if we'd spent more time working and less time arguing and answering back, then our work would have looked better.
So, I present to you 'Things grownups say but don't actually mean #103: The results don't matter, the learning does'. You can also apply this to chemistry lab explosions and getting your report card signed by your parents.
I had to spend the rest of Annual Day practice as an understudy. To a lamp post.
Q. How did the Sir react when he was approached by the author and other students with ideas about the assignment?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
Dad looked at the lines on my palm and said, "You'll live to be 90, my child." The day I was diagnosed with cancer, five decades later, I thought of him and wept.
I was at the Indian Institute of Technology, Mumbai in October 2007. At 58, I looked 40, bursting with energy and passion for my work. At the end of the workshop, while changing my clothes, I stood transfixed before the mirror, staring at the bright red flower glaring back at me from my right breast. I was sure it wasn't there the day before. My heart pounding, I returned home to Pune and rushed to the doctor who recommended an ultrasound and a fine needle aspiration cytology. Both tested positive for malignancy.
When I picked up the reports in a daze, I wondered, how could this be happening to me? Leaning against the tall hospital pillar, I shivered like a leaf while breaking the news to my family—stage-three breast cancer.
My treatment began straight away. First, I underwent a radical mastectomy. Then came the chemo. Six cycles of chemo later, it was time for 33 rounds of radiation. After the fourth, I was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. I was told later that I had suffered a mild stroke but was lucky the clot had passed on.
I soon realized that if I was going to have any chance at life again, I had to take control of my disease, instead of allowing it to overpower me as it had done until now. On 19 April 2008, a day after my treatment ended, I tied a scarf around my hairless head and flew to Chandigarh to train Rotary Club leaders in soft skills. A burning desire to get a hold of life, and find purpose pushed me forward and distracted me from that terrifying thought—What if the cancer returned?
While I focused on regaining normalcy, I was unaware of a developing crisis. In 2009, a 2D echocardiogram reported an inexplicable drop in my heart's pumping rate from 65 to 55 per cent. I was anxious but doctors allayed my fears. Three years later drained, breathless and perspiring, I was carried to a car that conveyed me to the hospital once again. It was not a heart attack, but my survival was at stake.
A year later, I learnt that a drug administered to me during chemo had damaged it. I was in shock. I restarted meditation and visualization to feel more positive. Work was my mainstay, my hope and source of comfort. That and a nightly prayer pushed the thought of death away.
Q. Why did the author cry thinking about her father when she was diagnosed with cancer?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
Dad looked at the lines on my palm and said, "You'll live to be 90, my child." The day I was diagnosed with cancer, five decades later, I thought of him and wept.
I was at the Indian Institute of Technology, Mumbai in October 2007. At 58, I looked 40, bursting with energy and passion for my work. At the end of the workshop, while changing my clothes, I stood transfixed before the mirror, staring at the bright red flower glaring back at me from my right breast. I was sure it wasn't there the day before. My heart pounding, I returned home to Pune and rushed to the doctor who recommended an ultrasound and a fine needle aspiration cytology. Both tested positive for malignancy.
When I picked up the reports in a daze, I wondered, how could this be happening to me? Leaning against the tall hospital pillar, I shivered like a leaf while breaking the news to my family—stage-three breast cancer.
My treatment began straight away. First, I underwent a radical mastectomy. Then came the chemo. Six cycles of chemo later, it was time for 33 rounds of radiation. After the fourth, I was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. I was told later that I had suffered a mild stroke but was lucky the clot had passed on.
I soon realized that if I was going to have any chance at life again, I had to take control of my disease, instead of allowing it to overpower me as it had done until now. On 19 April 2008, a day after my treatment ended, I tied a scarf around my hairless head and flew to Chandigarh to train Rotary Club leaders in soft skills. A burning desire to get a hold of life, and find purpose pushed me forward and distracted me from that terrifying thought—What if the cancer returned?
While I focused on regaining normalcy, I was unaware of a developing crisis. In 2009, a 2D echocardiogram reported an inexplicable drop in my heart's pumping rate from 65 to 55 per cent. I was anxious but doctors allayed my fears. Three years later drained, breathless and perspiring, I was carried to a car that conveyed me to the hospital once again. It was not a heart attack, but my survival was at stake.
A year later, I learnt that a drug administered to me during chemo had damaged it. I was in shock. I restarted meditation and visualization to feel more positive. Work was my mainstay, my hope and source of comfort. That and a nightly prayer pushed the thought of death away.
Q. What does the word 'transfixed' as used in the passage mean?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
Dad looked at the lines on my palm and said, "You'll live to be 90, my child." The day I was diagnosed with cancer, five decades later, I thought of him and wept.
I was at the Indian Institute of Technology, Mumbai in October 2007. At 58, I looked 40, bursting with energy and passion for my work. At the end of the workshop, while changing my clothes, I stood transfixed before the mirror, staring at the bright red flower glaring back at me from my right breast. I was sure it wasn't there the day before. My heart pounding, I returned home to Pune and rushed to the doctor who recommended an ultrasound and a fine needle aspiration cytology. Both tested positive for malignancy.
When I picked up the reports in a daze, I wondered, how could this be happening to me? Leaning against the tall hospital pillar, I shivered like a leaf while breaking the news to my family—stage-three breast cancer.
My treatment began straight away. First, I underwent a radical mastectomy. Then came the chemo. Six cycles of chemo later, it was time for 33 rounds of radiation. After the fourth, I was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. I was told later that I had suffered a mild stroke but was lucky the clot had passed on.
I soon realized that if I was going to have any chance at life again, I had to take control of my disease, instead of allowing it to overpower me as it had done until now. On 19 April 2008, a day after my treatment ended, I tied a scarf around my hairless head and flew to Chandigarh to train Rotary Club leaders in soft skills. A burning desire to get a hold of life, and find purpose pushed me forward and distracted me from that terrifying thought—What if the cancer returned?
While I focused on regaining normalcy, I was unaware of a developing crisis. In 2009, a 2D echocardiogram reported an inexplicable drop in my heart's pumping rate from 65 to 55 per cent. I was anxious but doctors allayed my fears. Three years later drained, breathless and perspiring, I was carried to a car that conveyed me to the hospital once again. It was not a heart attack, but my survival was at stake.
A year later, I learnt that a drug administered to me during chemo had damaged it. I was in shock. I restarted meditation and visualization to feel more positive. Work was my mainstay, my hope and source of comfort. That and a nightly prayer pushed the thought of death away.
Q. According to the passage, how did the author react when she got her reports for utlrasound and cytology tests?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
Dad looked at the lines on my palm and said, "You'll live to be 90, my child." The day I was diagnosed with cancer, five decades later, I thought of him and wept.
I was at the Indian Institute of Technology, Mumbai in October 2007. At 58, I looked 40, bursting with energy and passion for my work. At the end of the workshop, while changing my clothes, I stood transfixed before the mirror, staring at the bright red flower glaring back at me from my right breast. I was sure it wasn't there the day before. My heart pounding, I returned home to Pune and rushed to the doctor who recommended an ultrasound and a fine needle aspiration cytology. Both tested positive for malignancy.
When I picked up the reports in a daze, I wondered, how could this be happening to me? Leaning against the tall hospital pillar, I shivered like a leaf while breaking the news to my family—stage-three breast cancer.
My treatment began straight away. First, I underwent a radical mastectomy. Then came the chemo. Six cycles of chemo later, it was time for 33 rounds of radiation. After the fourth, I was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. I was told later that I had suffered a mild stroke but was lucky the clot had passed on.
I soon realized that if I was going to have any chance at life again, I had to take control of my disease, instead of allowing it to overpower me as it had done until now. On 19 April 2008, a day after my treatment ended, I tied a scarf around my hairless head and flew to Chandigarh to train Rotary Club leaders in soft skills. A burning desire to get a hold of life, and find purpose pushed me forward and distracted me from that terrifying thought—What if the cancer returned?
While I focused on regaining normalcy, I was unaware of a developing crisis. In 2009, a 2D echocardiogram reported an inexplicable drop in my heart's pumping rate from 65 to 55 per cent. I was anxious but doctors allayed my fears. Three years later drained, breathless and perspiring, I was carried to a car that conveyed me to the hospital once again. It was not a heart attack, but my survival was at stake.
A year later, I learnt that a drug administered to me during chemo had damaged it. I was in shock. I restarted meditation and visualization to feel more positive. Work was my mainstay, my hope and source of comfort. That and a nightly prayer pushed the thought of death away.
Q. What does the author mean when she says that work was her 'mainstay'?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
Dad looked at the lines on my palm and said, "You'll live to be 90, my child." The day I was diagnosed with cancer, five decades later, I thought of him and wept.
I was at the Indian Institute of Technology, Mumbai in October 2007. At 58, I looked 40, bursting with energy and passion for my work. At the end of the workshop, while changing my clothes, I stood transfixed before the mirror, staring at the bright red flower glaring back at me from my right breast. I was sure it wasn't there the day before. My heart pounding, I returned home to Pune and rushed to the doctor who recommended an ultrasound and a fine needle aspiration cytology. Both tested positive for malignancy.
When I picked up the reports in a daze, I wondered, how could this be happening to me? Leaning against the tall hospital pillar, I shivered like a leaf while breaking the news to my family—stage-three breast cancer.
My treatment began straight away. First, I underwent a radical mastectomy. Then came the chemo. Six cycles of chemo later, it was time for 33 rounds of radiation. After the fourth, I was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. I was told later that I had suffered a mild stroke but was lucky the clot had passed on.
I soon realized that if I was going to have any chance at life again, I had to take control of my disease, instead of allowing it to overpower me as it had done until now. On 19 April 2008, a day after my treatment ended, I tied a scarf around my hairless head and flew to Chandigarh to train Rotary Club leaders in soft skills. A burning desire to get a hold of life, and find purpose pushed me forward and distracted me from that terrifying thought—What if the cancer returned?
While I focused on regaining normalcy, I was unaware of a developing crisis. In 2009, a 2D echocardiogram reported an inexplicable drop in my heart's pumping rate from 65 to 55 per cent. I was anxious but doctors allayed my fears. Three years later drained, breathless and perspiring, I was carried to a car that conveyed me to the hospital once again. It was not a heart attack, but my survival was at stake.
A year later, I learnt that a drug administered to me during chemo had damaged it. I was in shock. I restarted meditation and visualization to feel more positive. Work was my mainstay, my hope and source of comfort. That and a nightly prayer pushed the thought of death away.
Q. From the given passage, which of the following can we infer about the author?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
The last few months of the year are always filled with fun stuff at school — Dussehra break, Deepavali holidays, sports day, annual day and then the long Christmas break. There's practice, Sport's Day heats, and Project Day submissions and regular studies kind of take a back seat.
It's the best! But, like in any fairy tale, just when everything seems perfect and made of candy, a big bad wolf or an evil witch lurking in the shadows jumps out, grabs you and cooks you in an oven. Okay, I know I'm mixing fairy tales up — think of it as a remix okay?
In my fairy tale life of hardly any studies and homework, the big bad wolf-witch (hybrid villains, people) looks like the ASSET exam. ASSET stands for Assessment of Scholastic Skills through Educational Testing, and this national test is meant to see what concepts students understand and don't understand with detailed feedback on what we can improve in. WHY?
I mean, I already know that I get confused between 12:00a.m. and 12:00p.m. and never remember which is which.
And that irregular verbs are just something my brain can't process. And that I'm not sure where people dance Bhangra — is it Gujarat or Assam? Neither? SEE!
More exams!
Why do I need another exam to tell me what I suck at? School has enough of those exams already. At least school exams are a little straightforward. These ASSET tests try to confuse you and trip you up at every turn. All the questions are sneaky and all the answers sound the same. It's awful.
And then, when they give you the results, they don't stop with just a grade or score, but they write pages and pages of feedback of what you 'might' want to work on. And guess what happens when parents read that kind of feedback? They go into hyperdrive. Suddenly, everything is about how to make me improve my 'spatial awareness' and 'logical reasoning' and 'improve my structural foundation'. Structural foundation? I'm a child, not a church. Aargh.
My ASSET scores have been pretty unspectacular these last few years and you'd think I'd be worried. But no. Do you want to know why? The scores don't matter. They can't keep me back a year or kick me out of school if I don't do well in them. The scores have no bearing on my great future as a PubG superstar, a spider expert, or a writer of amazing graphic novels. I protest that I have to take them only to have them make me feel bad and not smart.
Q. Which of the following best expresses the author's main point in the passage?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
The last few months of the year are always filled with fun stuff at school — Dussehra break, Deepavali holidays, sports day, annual day and then the long Christmas break. There's practice, Sport's Day heats, and Project Day submissions and regular studies kind of take a back seat.
It's the best! But, like in any fairy tale, just when everything seems perfect and made of candy, a big bad wolf or an evil witch lurking in the shadows jumps out, grabs you and cooks you in an oven. Okay, I know I'm mixing fairy tales up — think of it as a remix okay?
In my fairy tale life of hardly any studies and homework, the big bad wolf-witch (hybrid villains, people) looks like the ASSET exam. ASSET stands for Assessment of Scholastic Skills through Educational Testing, and this national test is meant to see what concepts students understand and don't understand with detailed feedback on what we can improve in. WHY?
I mean, I already know that I get confused between 12:00a.m. and 12:00p.m. and never remember which is which.
And that irregular verbs are just something my brain can't process. And that I'm not sure where people dance Bhangra — is it Gujarat or Assam? Neither? SEE!
More exams!
Why do I need another exam to tell me what I suck at? School has enough of those exams already. At least school exams are a little straightforward. These ASSET tests try to confuse you and trip you up at every turn. All the questions are sneaky and all the answers sound the same. It's awful.
And then, when they give you the results, they don't stop with just a grade or score, but they write pages and pages of feedback of what you 'might' want to work on. And guess what happens when parents read that kind of feedback? They go into hyperdrive. Suddenly, everything is about how to make me improve my 'spatial awareness' and 'logical reasoning' and 'improve my structural foundation'. Structural foundation? I'm a child, not a church. Aargh.
My ASSET scores have been pretty unspectacular these last few years and you'd think I'd be worried. But no. Do you want to know why? The scores don't matter. They can't keep me back a year or kick me out of school if I don't do well in them. The scores have no bearing on my great future as a PubG superstar, a spider expert, or a writer of amazing graphic novels. I protest that I have to take them only to have them make me feel bad and not smart.
Q. According to the passage, which of the following seems to be true about the author?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
The last few months of the year are always filled with fun stuff at school — Dussehra break, Deepavali holidays, sports day, annual day and then the long Christmas break. There's practice, Sport's Day heats, and Project Day submissions and regular studies kind of take a back seat.
It's the best! But, like in any fairy tale, just when everything seems perfect and made of candy, a big bad wolf or an evil witch lurking in the shadows jumps out, grabs you and cooks you in an oven. Okay, I know I'm mixing fairy tales up — think of it as a remix okay?
In my fairy tale life of hardly any studies and homework, the big bad wolf-witch (hybrid villains, people) looks like the ASSET exam. ASSET stands for Assessment of Scholastic Skills through Educational Testing, and this national test is meant to see what concepts students understand and don't understand with detailed feedback on what we can improve in. WHY?
I mean, I already know that I get confused between 12:00a.m. and 12:00p.m. and never remember which is which.
And that irregular verbs are just something my brain can't process. And that I'm not sure where people dance Bhangra — is it Gujarat or Assam? Neither? SEE!
More exams!
Why do I need another exam to tell me what I suck at? School has enough of those exams already. At least school exams are a little straightforward. These ASSET tests try to confuse you and trip you up at every turn. All the questions are sneaky and all the answers sound the same. It's awful.
And then, when they give you the results, they don't stop with just a grade or score, but they write pages and pages of feedback of what you 'might' want to work on. And guess what happens when parents read that kind of feedback? They go into hyperdrive. Suddenly, everything is about how to make me improve my 'spatial awareness' and 'logical reasoning' and 'improve my structural foundation'. Structural foundation? I'm a child, not a church. Aargh.
My ASSET scores have been pretty unspectacular these last few years and you'd think I'd be worried. But no. Do you want to know why? The scores don't matter. They can't keep me back a year or kick me out of school if I don't do well in them. The scores have no bearing on my great future as a PubG superstar, a spider expert, or a writer of amazing graphic novels. I protest that I have to take them only to have them make me feel bad and not smart.
Q. In context of the given passage, which of the following would be the most appropriate meaning of the term 'go into hyperdrive'?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
The last few months of the year are always filled with fun stuff at school — Dussehra break, Deepavali holidays, sports day, annual day and then the long Christmas break. There's practice, Sport's Day heats, and Project Day submissions and regular studies kind of take a back seat.
It's the best! But, like in any fairy tale, just when everything seems perfect and made of candy, a big bad wolf or an evil witch lurking in the shadows jumps out, grabs you and cooks you in an oven. Okay, I know I'm mixing fairy tales up — think of it as a remix okay?
In my fairy tale life of hardly any studies and homework, the big bad wolf-witch (hybrid villains, people) looks like the ASSET exam. ASSET stands for Assessment of Scholastic Skills through Educational Testing, and this national test is meant to see what concepts students understand and don't understand with detailed feedback on what we can improve in. WHY?
I mean, I already know that I get confused between 12:00a.m. and 12:00p.m. and never remember which is which.
And that irregular verbs are just something my brain can't process. And that I'm not sure where people dance Bhangra — is it Gujarat or Assam? Neither? SEE!
More exams!
Why do I need another exam to tell me what I suck at? School has enough of those exams already. At least school exams are a little straightforward. These ASSET tests try to confuse you and trip you up at every turn. All the questions are sneaky and all the answers sound the same. It's awful.
And then, when they give you the results, they don't stop with just a grade or score, but they write pages and pages of feedback of what you 'might' want to work on. And guess what happens when parents read that kind of feedback? They go into hyperdrive. Suddenly, everything is about how to make me improve my 'spatial awareness' and 'logical reasoning' and 'improve my structural foundation'. Structural foundation? I'm a child, not a church. Aargh.
My ASSET scores have been pretty unspectacular these last few years and you'd think I'd be worried. But no. Do you want to know why? The scores don't matter. They can't keep me back a year or kick me out of school if I don't do well in them. The scores have no bearing on my great future as a PubG superstar, a spider expert, or a writer of amazing graphic novels. I protest that I have to take them only to have them make me feel bad and not smart.
Q. Based on information in the passage, which of the following is most accurate?
Read the following passage and answer the question
The last few months of the year are always filled with fun stuff at school — Dussehra break, Deepavali holidays, sports day, annual day and then the long Christmas break. There's practice, Sport's Day heats, and Project Day submissions and regular studies kind of take a back seat.
It's the best! But, like in any fairy tale, just when everything seems perfect and made of candy, a big bad wolf or an evil witch lurking in the shadows jumps out, grabs you and cooks you in an oven. Okay, I know I'm mixing fairy tales up — think of it as a remix okay?
In my fairy tale life of hardly any studies and homework, the big bad wolf-witch (hybrid villains, people) looks like the ASSET exam. ASSET stands for Assessment of Scholastic Skills through Educational Testing, and this national test is meant to see what concepts students understand and don't understand with detailed feedback on what we can improve in. WHY?
I mean, I already know that I get confused between 12:00a.m. and 12:00p.m. and never remember which is which.
And that irregular verbs are just something my brain can't process. And that I'm not sure where people dance Bhangra — is it Gujarat or Assam? Neither? SEE!
More exams!
Why do I need another exam to tell me what I suck at? School has enough of those exams already. At least school exams are a little straightforward. These ASSET tests try to confuse you and trip you up at every turn. All the questions are sneaky and all the answers sound the same. It's awful.
And then, when they give you the results, they don't stop with just a grade or score, but they write pages and pages of feedback of what you 'might' want to work on. And guess what happens when parents read that kind of feedback? They go into hyperdrive. Suddenly, everything is about how to make me improve my 'spatial awareness' and 'logical reasoning' and 'improve my structural foundation'. Structural foundation? I'm a child, not a church. Aargh.
My ASSET scores have been pretty unspectacular these last few years and you'd think I'd be worried. But no. Do you want to know why? The scores don't matter. They can't keep me back a year or kick me out of school if I don't do well in them. The scores have no bearing on my great future as a PubG superstar, a spider expert, or a writer of amazing graphic novels. I protest that I have to take them only to have them make me feel bad and not smart.
Q. Which of the following statements is the author most likely to agree with?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
I came across a study from the New England Journal of Medicine (2018) that found that the most productive age in a human's life is not your 20s or 30s, but 60 to 70. And, the study confirms that the second most productive age is between 70 and 80 and the third most productive decade is 50 to 60.
What is going on here? Is this another disinformation campaign by the oldies among us, trying to vindicate their creaking joints, swollen knees, aching backs and greying hair by purveying fake news about their superiority to the fit, energetic, six-pack-sporting, young whippersnappers who are actually producing everything that matters in the world?
Not quite. Consider the evidence: The average age of a Nobel Prize winner is 62. The average age of a CEO in a Fortune 500 company is 63. The average age of popes is 76. And, in India, the average age of the cabinet is 60. Our prime minister, at 69, is a mere juvenile compared with some of his predecessors, such as Morarji Desai, who became PM at 81, or even the much-maligned Jawaharlal Nehru, who died in office at 74.
Looking back at my own life, next month I will publish my 20th book. Ten of those have seen the light of print since after my 50th birthday. There is little doubt that I have been more productive in my sixth and now seventh decade than in my (at least partially) misspent youth.
There is a logical reason for this. It is true that when you are young you are still feeling your way, acquiring the skills you need and laying the foundations of your future achievements. Most of our 20s and 30s are spent on romance, on wooing our future partner, and in creating and bringing up our family. The responsibility of making a living, of educating our children, and of taking care of our parents is a time-consuming one that inevitably distracts us from a single-minded focus on professional accomplishment.
In other words, most people's social and personal circumstances mean that their lives are so designed that the best years of their existence are between 60 and 80. That is the age when they have acquired whatever skills they are likely to acquire, have made (and learned from) their mistakes, and can focus on sharpening and deploying those skills. Thanks to modern medicine, most people are able to remain reasonably healthy past 60 and, even if physically slower, remain capable of top-quality intellectual performance. It is an age when there are fewer distractions. It is the time when you can do your best work.
Q. Which of the following best expresses the author's main idea in the passage?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
I came across a study from the New England Journal of Medicine (2018) that found that the most productive age in a human's life is not your 20s or 30s, but 60 to 70. And, the study confirms that the second most productive age is between 70 and 80 and the third most productive decade is 50 to 60.
What is going on here? Is this another disinformation campaign by the oldies among us, trying to vindicate their creaking joints, swollen knees, aching backs and greying hair by purveying fake news about their superiority to the fit, energetic, six-pack-sporting, young whippersnappers who are actually producing everything that matters in the world?
Not quite. Consider the evidence: The average age of a Nobel Prize winner is 62. The average age of a CEO in a Fortune 500 company is 63. The average age of popes is 76. And, in India, the average age of the cabinet is 60. Our prime minister, at 69, is a mere juvenile compared with some of his predecessors, such as Morarji Desai, who became PM at 81, or even the much-maligned Jawaharlal Nehru, who died in office at 74.
Looking back at my own life, next month I will publish my 20th book. Ten of those have seen the light of print since after my 50th birthday. There is little doubt that I have been more productive in my sixth and now seventh decade than in my (at least partially) misspent youth.
There is a logical reason for this. It is true that when you are young you are still feeling your way, acquiring the skills you need and laying the foundations of your future achievements. Most of our 20s and 30s are spent on romance, on wooing our future partner, and in creating and bringing up our family. The responsibility of making a living, of educating our children, and of taking care of our parents is a time-consuming one that inevitably distracts us from a single-minded focus on professional accomplishment.
In other words, most people's social and personal circumstances mean that their lives are so designed that the best years of their existence are between 60 and 80. That is the age when they have acquired whatever skills they are likely to acquire, have made (and learned from) their mistakes, and can focus on sharpening and deploying those skills. Thanks to modern medicine, most people are able to remain reasonably healthy past 60 and, even if physically slower, remain capable of top-quality intellectual performance. It is an age when there are fewer distractions. It is the time when you can do your best work.
Q. Which of the following statements would the author most likely agree with?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
I came across a study from the New England Journal of Medicine (2018) that found that the most productive age in a human's life is not your 20s or 30s, but 60 to 70. And, the study confirms that the second most productive age is between 70 and 80 and the third most productive decade is 50 to 60.
What is going on here? Is this another disinformation campaign by the oldies among us, trying to vindicate their creaking joints, swollen knees, aching backs and greying hair by purveying fake news about their superiority to the fit, energetic, six-pack-sporting, young whippersnappers who are actually producing everything that matters in the world?
Not quite. Consider the evidence: The average age of a Nobel Prize winner is 62. The average age of a CEO in a Fortune 500 company is 63. The average age of popes is 76. And, in India, the average age of the cabinet is 60. Our prime minister, at 69, is a mere juvenile compared with some of his predecessors, such as Morarji Desai, who became PM at 81, or even the much-maligned Jawaharlal Nehru, who died in office at 74.
Looking back at my own life, next month I will publish my 20th book. Ten of those have seen the light of print since after my 50th birthday. There is little doubt that I have been more productive in my sixth and now seventh decade than in my (at least partially) misspent youth.
There is a logical reason for this. It is true that when you are young you are still feeling your way, acquiring the skills you need and laying the foundations of your future achievements. Most of our 20s and 30s are spent on romance, on wooing our future partner, and in creating and bringing up our family. The responsibility of making a living, of educating our children, and of taking care of our parents is a time-consuming one that inevitably distracts us from a single-minded focus on professional accomplishment.
In other words, most people's social and personal circumstances mean that their lives are so designed that the best years of their existence are between 60 and 80. That is the age when they have acquired whatever skills they are likely to acquire, have made (and learned from) their mistakes, and can focus on sharpening and deploying those skills. Thanks to modern medicine, most people are able to remain reasonably healthy past 60 and, even if physically slower, remain capable of top-quality intellectual performance. It is an age when there are fewer distractions. It is the time when you can do your best work.
Q. According to the passage which of the following can be rightly justified as a distraction that could limit the productivity of a younger adult?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
I came across a study from the New England Journal of Medicine (2018) that found that the most productive age in a human's life is not your 20s or 30s, but 60 to 70. And, the study confirms that the second most productive age is between 70 and 80 and the third most productive decade is 50 to 60.
What is going on here? Is this another disinformation campaign by the oldies among us, trying to vindicate their creaking joints, swollen knees, aching backs and greying hair by purveying fake news about their superiority to the fit, energetic, six-pack-sporting, young whippersnappers who are actually producing everything that matters in the world?
Not quite. Consider the evidence: The average age of a Nobel Prize winner is 62. The average age of a CEO in a Fortune 500 company is 63. The average age of popes is 76. And, in India, the average age of the cabinet is 60. Our prime minister, at 69, is a mere juvenile compared with some of his predecessors, such as Morarji Desai, who became PM at 81, or even the much-maligned Jawaharlal Nehru, who died in office at 74.
Looking back at my own life, next month I will publish my 20th book. Ten of those have seen the light of print since after my 50th birthday. There is little doubt that I have been more productive in my sixth and now seventh decade than in my (at least partially) misspent youth.
There is a logical reason for this. It is true that when you are young you are still feeling your way, acquiring the skills you need and laying the foundations of your future achievements. Most of our 20s and 30s are spent on romance, on wooing our future partner, and in creating and bringing up our family. The responsibility of making a living, of educating our children, and of taking care of our parents is a time-consuming one that inevitably distracts us from a single-minded focus on professional accomplishment.
In other words, most people's social and personal circumstances mean that their lives are so designed that the best years of their existence are between 60 and 80. That is the age when they have acquired whatever skills they are likely to acquire, have made (and learned from) their mistakes, and can focus on sharpening and deploying those skills. Thanks to modern medicine, most people are able to remain reasonably healthy past 60 and, even if physically slower, remain capable of top-quality intellectual performance. It is an age when there are fewer distractions. It is the time when you can do your best work.
Q. What does the word 'vindicate' as used in the passage mean?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
I came across a study from the New England Journal of Medicine (2018) that found that the most productive age in a human's life is not your 20s or 30s, but 60 to 70. And, the study confirms that the second most productive age is between 70 and 80 and the third most productive decade is 50 to 60.
What is going on here? Is this another disinformation campaign by the oldies among us, trying to vindicate their creaking joints, swollen knees, aching backs and greying hair by purveying fake news about their superiority to the fit, energetic, six-pack-sporting, young whippersnappers who are actually producing everything that matters in the world?
Not quite. Consider the evidence: The average age of a Nobel Prize winner is 62. The average age of a CEO in a Fortune 500 company is 63. The average age of popes is 76. And, in India, the average age of the cabinet is 60. Our prime minister, at 69, is a mere juvenile compared with some of his predecessors, such as Morarji Desai, who became PM at 81, or even the much-maligned Jawaharlal Nehru, who died in office at 74.
Looking back at my own life, next month I will publish my 20th book. Ten of those have seen the light of print since after my 50th birthday. There is little doubt that I have been more productive in my sixth and now seventh decade than in my (at least partially) misspent youth.
There is a logical reason for this. It is true that when you are young you are still feeling your way, acquiring the skills you need and laying the foundations of your future achievements. Most of our 20s and 30s are spent on romance, on wooing our future partner, and in creating and bringing up our family. The responsibility of making a living, of educating our children, and of taking care of our parents is a time-consuming one that inevitably distracts us from a single-minded focus on professional accomplishment.
In other words, most people's social and personal circumstances mean that their lives are so designed that the best years of their existence are between 60 and 80. That is the age when they have acquired whatever skills they are likely to acquire, have made (and learned from) their mistakes, and can focus on sharpening and deploying those skills. Thanks to modern medicine, most people are able to remain reasonably healthy past 60 and, even if physically slower, remain capable of top-quality intellectual performance. It is an age when there are fewer distractions. It is the time when you can do your best work.
Q. What, according to the author, makes it possible for a person's best years to fall between ages of 60 and 80?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
One summer, many years ago, while I was living in the garden city of Pune, I lay in bed, unwell. Lying in bed, I watched a large neem tree teeming with activity. Birds like orioles, flycatchers, and magpie robins were frequent visitors to the tree. Another cute resident on the neem tree was the palm squirrel; common in peninsular India. As I lay in bed, I enjoyed watching these creatures go about their daily tasks. Their activities on the tree made me get well quicker!
Then one day, I saw to my dismay that the tree was being chopped down to widen the road in the neighbouring society. I had watched the squirrel build its nest all summer, and it was with sadness I watched as the tree was slowly chopped down. I wondered what happened to the squirrel nesting in the tree.
The loss of the squirrel's nest made me sad. After much thought, I decided to do something about this. The loss of the tree led me to find out that in India trees, even the ones planted by us in our homes, need permission before they are chopped.
Over the next few years, I got involved in a programme called Pune Tree Watch, where citizens engaged with the Garden Department, to reduce tree felling in the rapidly developing city of Pune. We looked to balance development with the green needs of the city. We sought solutions like tree transplantation, alternate routes for roads or different designs for buildings, sewage and pipelines to save trees. In two to three years, we were able to save many trees, and create awareness about the laws relating to tree felling among citizens.
In 2008, I shifted to Dehradun, where I continued my work to save urban biodiversity. We worked with citizens and institutions _ the municipal and forest departments _ to save green cover in Dehradun. Over the last few years, we have successfully transplanted some trees, and saved many of them from being felled, too.
My ultimate reward in this line of work came when a tree in the middle of Dehradun city was being cut down. I watched as a squirrel ran down the tree that the municipality was chopping, and run up the one we had saved. It had lost a home, but found a new one. All the work I had done in the last decade seemed worthwhile.
It took a squirrel and a tree to move me from being aware and feeling sad, to action. All of us need to act to save nature.
So, what will be your "squirrel" moment?
Q. According to the passage, which of the following made the author feel that he needed to do something about tree felling?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
One summer, many years ago, while I was living in the garden city of Pune, I lay in bed, unwell. Lying in bed, I watched a large neem tree teeming with activity. Birds like orioles, flycatchers, and magpie robins were frequent visitors to the tree. Another cute resident on the neem tree was the palm squirrel; common in peninsular India. As I lay in bed, I enjoyed watching these creatures go about their daily tasks. Their activities on the tree made me get well quicker!
Then one day, I saw to my dismay that the tree was being chopped down to widen the road in the neighbouring society. I had watched the squirrel build its nest all summer, and it was with sadness I watched as the tree was slowly chopped down. I wondered what happened to the squirrel nesting in the tree.
The loss of the squirrel's nest made me sad. After much thought, I decided to do something about this. The loss of the tree led me to find out that in India trees, even the ones planted by us in our homes, need permission before they are chopped.
Over the next few years, I got involved in a programme called Pune Tree Watch, where citizens engaged with the Garden Department, to reduce tree felling in the rapidly developing city of Pune. We looked to balance development with the green needs of the city. We sought solutions like tree transplantation, alternate routes for roads or different designs for buildings, sewage and pipelines to save trees. In two to three years, we were able to save many trees, and create awareness about the laws relating to tree felling among citizens.
In 2008, I shifted to Dehradun, where I continued my work to save urban biodiversity. We worked with citizens and institutions _ the municipal and forest departments _ to save green cover in Dehradun. Over the last few years, we have successfully transplanted some trees, and saved many of them from being felled, too.
My ultimate reward in this line of work came when a tree in the middle of Dehradun city was being cut down. I watched as a squirrel ran down the tree that the municipality was chopping, and run up the one we had saved. It had lost a home, but found a new one. All the work I had done in the last decade seemed worthwhile.
It took a squirrel and a tree to move me from being aware and feeling sad, to action. All of us need to act to save nature.
So, what will be your "squirrel" moment?
Q. Based on information from the given passage, which of the following is the author most likely to agree with?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
One summer, many years ago, while I was living in the garden city of Pune, I lay in bed, unwell. Lying in bed, I watched a large neem tree teeming with activity. Birds like orioles, flycatchers, and magpie robins were frequent visitors to the tree. Another cute resident on the neem tree was the palm squirrel; common in peninsular India. As I lay in bed, I enjoyed watching these creatures go about their daily tasks. Their activities on the tree made me get well quicker!
Then one day, I saw to my dismay that the tree was being chopped down to widen the road in the neighbouring society. I had watched the squirrel build its nest all summer, and it was with sadness I watched as the tree was slowly chopped down. I wondered what happened to the squirrel nesting in the tree.
The loss of the squirrel's nest made me sad. After much thought, I decided to do something about this. The loss of the tree led me to find out that in India trees, even the ones planted by us in our homes, need permission before they are chopped.
Over the next few years, I got involved in a programme called Pune Tree Watch, where citizens engaged with the Garden Department, to reduce tree felling in the rapidly developing city of Pune. We looked to balance development with the green needs of the city. We sought solutions like tree transplantation, alternate routes for roads or different designs for buildings, sewage and pipelines to save trees. In two to three years, we were able to save many trees, and create awareness about the laws relating to tree felling among citizens.
In 2008, I shifted to Dehradun, where I continued my work to save urban biodiversity. We worked with citizens and institutions _ the municipal and forest departments _ to save green cover in Dehradun. Over the last few years, we have successfully transplanted some trees, and saved many of them from being felled, too.
My ultimate reward in this line of work came when a tree in the middle of Dehradun city was being cut down. I watched as a squirrel ran down the tree that the municipality was chopping, and run up the one we had saved. It had lost a home, but found a new one. All the work I had done in the last decade seemed worthwhile.
It took a squirrel and a tree to move me from being aware and feeling sad, to action. All of us need to act to save nature.
So, what will be your "squirrel" moment?
Q. What does the word 'dismay' mean as used in the passage?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
One summer, many years ago, while I was living in the garden city of Pune, I lay in bed, unwell. Lying in bed, I watched a large neem tree teeming with activity. Birds like orioles, flycatchers, and magpie robins were frequent visitors to the tree. Another cute resident on the neem tree was the palm squirrel; common in peninsular India. As I lay in bed, I enjoyed watching these creatures go about their daily tasks. Their activities on the tree made me get well quicker!
Then one day, I saw to my dismay that the tree was being chopped down to widen the road in the neighbouring society. I had watched the squirrel build its nest all summer, and it was with sadness I watched as the tree was slowly chopped down. I wondered what happened to the squirrel nesting in the tree.
The loss of the squirrel's nest made me sad. After much thought, I decided to do something about this. The loss of the tree led me to find out that in India trees, even the ones planted by us in our homes, need permission before they are chopped.
Over the next few years, I got involved in a programme called Pune Tree Watch, where citizens engaged with the Garden Department, to reduce tree felling in the rapidly developing city of Pune. We looked to balance development with the green needs of the city. We sought solutions like tree transplantation, alternate routes for roads or different designs for buildings, sewage and pipelines to save trees. In two to three years, we were able to save many trees, and create awareness about the laws relating to tree felling among citizens.
In 2008, I shifted to Dehradun, where I continued my work to save urban biodiversity. We worked with citizens and institutions _ the municipal and forest departments _ to save green cover in Dehradun. Over the last few years, we have successfully transplanted some trees, and saved many of them from being felled, too.
My ultimate reward in this line of work came when a tree in the middle of Dehradun city was being cut down. I watched as a squirrel ran down the tree that the municipality was chopping, and run up the one we had saved. It had lost a home, but found a new one. All the work I had done in the last decade seemed worthwhile.
It took a squirrel and a tree to move me from being aware and feeling sad, to action. All of us need to act to save nature.
So, what will be your "squirrel" moment?
Q. Which of the following can be correctly inferred from the passage?
Read the following passage and answer the question.
One summer, many years ago, while I was living in the garden city of Pune, I lay in bed, unwell. Lying in bed, I watched a large neem tree teeming with activity. Birds like orioles, flycatchers, and magpie robins were frequent visitors to the tree. Another cute resident on the neem tree was the palm squirrel; common in peninsular India. As I lay in bed, I enjoyed watching these creatures go about their daily tasks. Their activities on the tree made me get well quicker!
Then one day, I saw to my dismay that the tree was being chopped down to widen the road in the neighbouring society. I had watched the squirrel build its nest all summer, and it was with sadness I watched as the tree was slowly chopped down. I wondered what happened to the squirrel nesting in the tree.
The loss of the squirrel's nest made me sad. After much thought, I decided to do something about this. The loss of the tree led me to find out that in India trees, even the ones planted by us in our homes, need permission before they are chopped.
Over the next few years, I got involved in a programme called Pune Tree Watch, where citizens engaged with the Garden Department, to reduce tree felling in the rapidly developing city of Pune. We looked to balance development with the green needs of the city. We sought solutions like tree transplantation, alternate routes for roads or different designs for buildings, sewage and pipelines to save trees. In two to three years, we were able to save many trees, and create awareness about the laws relating to tree felling among citizens.
In 2008, I shifted to Dehradun, where I continued my work to save urban biodiversity. We worked with citizens and institutions _ the municipal and forest departments _ to save green cover in Dehradun. Over the last few years, we have successfully transplanted some trees, and saved many of them from being felled, too.
My ultimate reward in this line of work came when a tree in the middle of Dehradun city was being cut down. I watched as a squirrel ran down the tree that the municipality was chopping, and run up the one we had saved. It had lost a home, but found a new one. All the work I had done in the last decade seemed worthwhile.
It took a squirrel and a tree to move me from being aware and feeling sad, to action. All of us need to act to save nature.
So, what will be your "squirrel" moment?
Q. Which of the following can be considered similar to the situation when the author decided to fight for tree preservation in his region?
2 videos|10 docs|83 tests
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2 videos|10 docs|83 tests
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