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Piano Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see

A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.

In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside And hymns in the cosy parlor, the tinkling piano our guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamor With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past. D. H. Lawrence Piano D. H. Lawrence I) Summary: Piano is a memory poem composed by David Herbert Lawrence. The poet has depicted his feelings from the memories of his childhood in this poem. Softly in the evening, a woman is singing a song to the poet. The song makes the poet sink deep in the recollection of his childhood days. He recalls ( ;DemG5 ) the scene in which a child is sitting under the piano and his mother is playing the piano smiling at the poet. The child is innocently pressing the balanced small feet of a mother. The poet has skillful efficiency of song but that has betrayed him back. He weeps and his heart pains. He remembers the past Sunday evenings. It was cold outside and there were hymns in the comfortable room. Now, the song can't impress the poet and he thinks it is useless to burst into the clamor. He reaches his childhood days and helplessly sinks into floods of tears which come from his eyes. II) Interpretation: The poet may be trying to tell us that some memories give bad shocks to people of sentimental minds. Memory of the past is the basic theme of the poem ' Piano'. The poet remembers his childhood days of sitting at his mother's knee enjoying songs of his mother. Fresh and the true love of his mother was heart touching for the poet and the music and song of the woman can't give him such pleasure as his mother because the poet has blown himself in the great flood of memory. So, he weeps bitterly while hearing the music and the song produced by the woman. III) Critical thinking

Naturally, the past memories give a great shock to a passionate (sentimental) person now and then ( slxn]sflx ) , but some of the sayings of the poet are not agreeable to me (i) Does a man weep from such memory? (ii) Does the presence of singing women really betray people? ( iii) Can the sweet music be clamor for the true lover of music? (iv). Does a man remember the past if he is deeply in love with someone? So, I don't agree with the poet totally. IV) Assimilation: After reading this poem. I understood that past events can't be forgotten easily. Sometimes they greatly affect ( k|efj kfg'{ ) on the life of the person who remembers but the people of sentimental minds are much more affected than the average people. Tears themselves find their ways for the people of sentimental mind. However, I am greatly impressed by the poet's efficiency. ( bIftf)

Yudhisthira's Wisdom Summary: One day the pandava brothers went to the jungle in search of deer. They saw a deer and followed it. But, the deer disappeared. They grew thirsty ( ltvf{Psf] ). They didn't find water around them. So Yudhisthira sent Sahadev in search of water. But he didn't return. Yudhisthira again sent Nakula. He also didn't return. Yudhisthira was worried. So, he sent Bhima and Arjuna one by one. When they also did not return, Yudhisthira went himself to know what had happened. He reached a beautiful pool. He say his four brothers lying on the bank of the pool. He could not find out whether they were dead or unconscious. He began to weep. He looked around for hidden enemy, but he say no one. He could not control his thirst. So he dragged himself up to the water. When he bent down ( lgx'l/of] ) to drink water. He heard an unknown voice. It was the voice of Yaksha. The Yaksha ordered Yudhisthira to reply his questions before drinking water. Yudhisthira was wise. He asked the yaksha to ask his questions. The yaksha asked him many questions. He replied all the questions correctly. The yaksha was impressed very much by his replies. He ordered Yudhisthira to ask for one of his brothers. Yudhisthira was just and truthful. He looked all his brothers and requested the yaksha to restore Nakula. The yaksha asked him why he wanted Nakula because Bhima and Arjuna were much more important than Nakula. Yudhisthira replied that he wanted to do everything truly and justly. Then he said that Nakula was son of Madri. If he died, the line of Madri would be clear. He was at least on son alive of Kunti. Yaksha was greatly impressed by his wisdom. He appeared before Yudhisthira as Yama, his heavenly father. He thanked Yudhisthira very much. He saved all his brothers. Then he promised to help them in need. At last, he advised them to go to Matsya with Draupadi where king Birat was ruling.

Write the story Of "Yudhishthira's wisdom" from the point of View of the yaksha.

Ans: - I am Yama, the heavenly father of Yudhisthira, the pandav of Mahabharata. It is the story related to the time when the pandavas were in exile. I had to test the wisdom of my son. If in any way it had been eroded due to problems of life. I turned myself a Yaksha and wanted for the chance, in the forest where they, the pandava were is exile, in hiding. It was a very hot day, and the pandavas were chasing a deer. They all become very thirsty and sat under the shade of a tree to reset. The youngest Pandav, sahadev, was gone to look for water. After searching for sometime, he came near the pond which I had impanted. I kept watch there, in a vanished condition. When he wanted to drink water from there, I stopped him and asked him to first answer my questions. He did not see me, he only heard my voice. So he thought that the sound was perhaps mistake of his ears. He ignored my warning and tried to drink water. I made him unconscious. For very long, when Sahadeva did not return, Nakula was sent. He also came near my pond, and had to face the same result. In this same way Arjuna and Bhima also had the same consequence. Finally Yudhisthira himself came, but he chose to answer the questions first before drinking water. He was also sad seeing his four younger brothers lying in that condition. I started asking him question like, "what made the sun shine: what is man's surest weapon against danger etc. He answered the questions difficult question, to test his wisdom. I Offered him in the life of one of his brothers back, for the wise answers he had given, I thought he might demand bhima or Arjuna back, who were very strong fighters, and who would help him in future fight of Mahabharata(Kurukshetra). But to my surprise, he demanded the life of Nakula or Sahadeva. I was surprised, and asked the reason for it .His answer was full with wisdom. He said that righteousness and truth was the only weapon with a man. Other things are of no use without them. Since him, a son of Kunti was alive, so it was only justified that a son of his step-mother, Madri, should also be alive (Nakula & Sahadeva were Madri's son). I was very impressed by his wisdom. So, firstly, I exposed myself and then restored the consciousness of all the four pandavas. After that i gave them the boom of victory and success, in future, and came back to my heavily abode, satisfied.

Summary of "Why go to University" (d) Why is education considered to be supremely valuable? Ans: The value of education is something about which you can go on writing so many things. It is not something which can develop on a scale basis. The education helps people in two ways -material and intellectual. If education is some thing which is associated with gaining knowledge for better prospectus, then I do not prefer it. In my opinion the real value of education is when it makes people enlightened and removed off from the various prejudices. Education, more than anything, makes a man understand himself more. It opens a broader spectrum for the men. Both these aspects are dealt up in two chapters. Through, both of them i.e.the library and the university are

places of learning. They both enlighten the people (students). But both have different means to do so. The library is a place where a person interacts with the books, but in a University, he interacts with people. In the effort of trying to know more about the white writer (Mencken) who wrote in the favor of the blacks, and got criticisms. Mr. Richard Wright (a Negro) comes to know about so may other writers. He knows not only the writers but also the many other writers who have any sort of bias. He comes to learn about so many books which seem to open the floodgates of information and new worlds that Richard himself is amazed about how could people write so much which they have known. This also clears the clouds of prejudices held by blacks against the writers. But it also helps certain misconceptions held by Negros (including the writer) to get cleared. The writer realizes the weakness of Negros themselves. He finds the Negros themselves responsible for their condition. He realizes the bias and exploitation between the Negros themselves. But after all it is only the bookish knowledge that Richard gets. He does not get the real feel of human nature. But in contrast of it, we have the University. There we get the real encounter with people. We come in contact with so many people of so many ethnicity, language, class, culture etc. It is an open book where one makes analysis and understanding on real basis. In this regard the writer has suggested many points as to why to go to University. The University education enhances our chances of career development by way of promotion and sop increasing income and social standings. It teaches us rational and scientific thinking, tolerance, open-mindedness, and the attitude of questioning established ideas. It even helps in a hygienic and healthy living. We come in category of learned people, so we are given value, which only library learning may not.Education enhance our self-confidence. Like in case of library, University education also makes us inquisitive. Education by both ways gives us more democratic perhaps. In this way, even through the purpose of both- the library and the university are to give education, but both are also different in their own ways.

Write the story of IF NOT HIGHER? If Not Higher If Not Higher is a short and sweet story by I.L. Perennial. Early every Friday morning, at the time of the Penitential Prayers, the rabbi of Nemirov would vanish. He was nowhere to be seen - neither in the synagogue nor in the two study houses nor at a minyan. And he was certainly not at home. His door stood open: whoever wished could go in and out; no one would steal from the rabbi. But not a living creature was within. Where could the rabbi be? Where should he be? In heaven, no doubt. A rabbi has plenty of business to take care of just before the Days of Awe. Jews, God bless them, need livelihood, peace, health, and good matches. They want to be pious and good, but our sins are so great, and Satan of the thousand eyes watches the whole earth from one end to the other. What he sees, he reports; he denounces, informs. Who can help

us if not the rabbi! Thats what the people thought. But once a Litvak came, and he laughed. You know the Litvaks. They think little of the holy books but stuff themselves with Talmud and law. So this Litvak points to a passage in the Gamara - it sticks in your eyes - where it is written that even Moses our Teacher did not ascend to heaven during his lifetime but remained suspended two and a half feet below. Go argue with a Litvak! So where can the rabbi be? "Thats not my business," said the Litvak, shrugging. Yet all the while - what a Litvak can do! - He is scheming to find out. That same night, right after the evening prayers, the Litvak steals into the rabbis room, slides under the rabbis bed, and waits. Hell watch all night and discover where the rabbi vanishes and what he does during the Penitential Prayers. Someone else might have gotten drowsy and fallen asleep, but a Litvak is never at a loss; he recites a whole tractate of the Talmud by heart. At dawn he hears the call to prayers. The rabbi has already been awake for a long time. The Litvak has heard him groaning for a whole hour. Whoever has heard the rabbi of Nemirov groan knows how much sorrow for all Israel, how much suffering, lies in each groan. A mans heart might break, hearing it. But a Litvak is made of iron; he listens and remains where he is. The rabbi - long life to him! lies on the bed, and the Litvak under the bed. Then the Litvak hears the beds in the house begin to creak; he hears people jumping out of their beds; mumbling a few Jewish words, pouring water on their fingernails, banging doors. Everyone has left. It is again quiet and dark; a bit of light from the moon shines through the shutters. (Afterward, the Litvak admitted that when he found himself alone with the rabbi a great fear took hold of him. Goose pimples spread across his skin, and the roots of his side locks pricked him like needles. A trifle: to be alone with the rabbi at the time of the Penitential Prayers! But a Litvak is stubborn. So he quivered like a fish in water and remained where he was.) Finally the rabbi - long life to him! - arises. First, he does what befits a Jew. Then he goes to the clothes closet and takes out a bundle of peasant clothes: linen trousers, high boots, a coat, a big felt hat, and a long, wide leather belt studded with brass nails. The rabbi gets dressed. From his coat pocket dangles the end of a heavy peasant rope. The rabbi goes out, and the Litvak follows him. On the way the rabbi stops in the kitchen, bends down, takes an ax from the bed, puts it into his belt, and leaves the house. The Litvak trembles but continues to follow. The hushed dread of the Days of Awe hangs over the dark streets. Every once in a while a cry rises from some minyan reciting the Penitential Prayers, or from a sickbed. The rabbi hugs the sides of the streets, keeping to the shade of the houses. He glides from house to house and the Litvak after him. The Litvak hears the sound of his heartbeats mingling with the sound of the rabbis heavy steps. But he keeps on going and follows the rabbi to the outskirts of town. A small wood stands just outside the town. The rabbi - long life to him! - enters the wood. He takes thirty or forty steps and stops by

a small tree. The Litvak, overcome with amazement, watches the rabbi take the ax out of his belt and strike the tree. He hears the tree creak and fall. The rabbi chops the tree into logs and the logs into sticks. Then he makes a bundle of the wood and ties it with the rope in his pocket. He puts the bundle of wood on his back, shoves the ax back into his belt, and returns to the town. He stops at a back street besides a small, broken-down shack and knocks at the window. "Who is there?" asks a frightened voice. The Litvaks recognizes it as the voice of a sick Jewish woman. "I" answers the rabbi in the accent of a peasant. "Who is I?" Again the rabbi answers in Russian. "Vassil." "Who is Vassil, and what do you want?" "I have wood to sell, very cheap." And not waiting for the womans reply, he goes into the house. The Litvak steals in after him. In the gray light of early morning he sees a poor room with broken, miserable furnishings. A sick woman, wrapped in rags, lies on the bed. She complains bitterly, "Buy? How can I buy? Where will a poor widow get money?" "Ill lend it to you," answers the supposed Vassil. "Its only six cents." "And how will I ever pay you back?" asks the poor woman, groaning. "Foolish one," says the rabbi reproachfully. "See, you are a poor, sick Jew, and I am ready to trust you with a little wood. I am sure youll pay. While you, you have such a great and mighty God and you dont trust him for six cents." "And who will kindle the fire?" asks the widow? "Have I the strength to get up? My son is at work." "Ill kindle the fire," answers the rabbi. As the rabbi puts the wood into the oven he recited, in a groan, the first portion of the Penitential Prayers. As he kindled the fire and the wood burned brightly, he recited, a bit more joyously, the second portion of the Penitential Prayers. When the fire was set, he recited the third portion, and then shut the stove. The Litvak who saw all this became a disciple of the rabbi. And ever after, when another disciple tells how the rabbi of Nemirov ascends to heaven at the time of the Penitential Prayers, the Litvak does not laugh. He only adds quietly, "If not higher."

Literal comprehension: Early Every Friday morning at a time of penitential prayers, the rabbi of Nimirov would vanish .He was no where to be seen. Other People were of the opinion that during the prayers, he would go to heaven while the litvak did not believe that openly. In order to find out the whereabouts of the rabbi, the litvak managed him to go secretly to his room on the eve of the penitential prayers and hid under the bed. Early morning when others were praying for the people of Israel, the rabbi disguised himself as a peasant and left the house. After sometimes, he went to the nearby forest and cut the firewood and made a bundle of firewood. He, then, entered the house of poor Jewish women and persuaded her to buy the firewood but she did not buy as she

was poor, than, he gave the firewood and candled the fire to her, He than started reciting the different portions of penitential prayers. Having seen such humanistic deeds of the rabbi, the litvak was deeply moved and from that time onwards, he becomes his disciple. Interpretation: This story may be trying to tell us that doing goods deeds on earth may be a more exalted activity than doing God's will in heaven. Besides that, this story also focuses on the humanitarian activities that make a person great and noble. To do good deeds on this earth is a great reward on another world. Only by doing prayer god is not happy rather god becomes happy in doing humanitarian deeds and helping the needy people as the rabbi has done in the story. Critical thinking: This story sounds highly idealistic as it delivers the moral lessons. In this selfish and materialistic world, no one will get the virtuous character like the rabbi in the story. The rabbi like people becomes simply laughing stock in the modern society. Any way, the story is good to deliver the moral lessons. 6. Summarize the plot of "If Not Higher" in one sentence. Ans: - The rabbi of Nimirov happened to disguise himself as a peasant during the penitential prayers, the festival of Jews, and went to help the needy people, however, general people would think that he would go the heaven during the prayers but the litvak identified the reality of the rabbi by his skeptical nature. Greek Legend Summary The story is about the mystery of where the Rabbi of Nemirov goes and what he does during the Penitential Prayers in the days before Yom Kippur. Everyone in the village seems to wonder where the Rabbi is during this time, but while the Jews of the village are content to assume the Rabbi is in heaven, the Litvak doesnt believe it. The Litvak tries to pretend that he doesnt care where the Rabbi of Nemirov goes during the Penitential Prayers or what he is doing, but he secretly wants to discover the secret. The Litvak decides to spy on the Rabbi, hides under the Rabbis bed and then follows him when he leaves, all the while believing that he, as a Litvak, is more clever than others and is the only one who could accomplish this goal since Litvaks would never get caught or become tired waiting as others would. The Litvak successfully follows the Rabbi and sees him pretend to be a peasant, chop wood and deliver it to a poor sick Jewish woman. What the Litvak finds is that the Rabbi not only actually does the Penitential Prayers, he also helped out a fellow Jew and said the Prayers for the woman. After seeing this, the Litvak comes to believe in the Rabbi and the Rabbis work. III. Interpretation The moral of the story could be that one needs to fully understand something before making judgment. In the story the Litvak, and other Lithuanian Jews, rely on a commentary on the Bible, the Talmud rather than the Bible or the teachings of the Rabbi. Because the Litvak only seems to rely on the Talmud, which is someone elses views on the Bible, the Litvak doesnt trust in the Rabbi or his practices. Similar to the discussion on the way television brainwashes viewers into believing things that may or not be true, the Talmud is also only commentary, not fact, and can lead people

astray. Once the Litvak himself investigates what the Rabbi does, he comes to realize that the Rabbi is indeed working for the greater good of the Jews. That message may not have been conveyed thru the Talmud. IV. Critical Evaluation I think the underlying message in the story is a good onelearn the facts before judging. It also has a good ending, which would be especially positive for Jewish people since it supports what they believe in. I also think that the story keeps your attention since you want to know what the Rabbi of Nemirov is doing when hes expected to be doing the Penitential Prayers and where he disappears to. Its nice that the story has a positive ending with both someone in need being helped and also the Litvaks eyes being opened to the Rabbis mission. I also think the story has a comic element to it, with the Litvaks ultimate confidence in himself since he is a Litvak, while he has much less confidence in those that arent Litvaks. The Litvak is portrayed as almost cocky in his confidence. I do have some problems with the story. First, I wonder whether the writer was a Litvak? Do Litvaks ouch! only see themselves as part of that group, not individuals? Also, some of the information is difficult to believe. After the Rabbi dresses as a peasant, he stops in the kitchen and takes an ax from under the bed. Why would there be a bed in the kitchen? Regardless of where the bed is, why would an ax be under it when it would generally be stored elsewhere? Also, the thought that no one else has a clue as to where the Rabbi disappears to is oddthe Rabbi leaves his home in the morning and were told that everyone else is up and about, how is it that only the Litvak was able to follow him, or even see him walking thru the village? Finally, while I like what I perceive to be the moral of the story, if people spent all of their time trying to validate everything they are told, read, or see, what would ever get accomplished. I think that it is important for people to question things, but that there must also be trusted sources of information.

Television by Roald Dahl The most important thing we've learned, So far as children are concerned, Is never, NEVER, NEVER let Them near your television set -Or better still, just don't install The idiotic thing at all. In almost every house we've been, We've watched them gaping at the screen. They loll and slop and lounge about, And stare until their eyes pop out. (Last week in someone's place we saw

A dozen eyeballs on the floor.) They sit and stare and stare and sit Until they're hypnotised by it, Until they're absolutely drunk With all that shocking ghastly junk. Oh yes, we know it keeps them still, They don't climb out the window sill, They never fight or kick or punch, They leave you free to cook the lunch And wash the dishes in the sink -But did you ever stop to think, To wonder just exactly what This does to your beloved tot? IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD! IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD! IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND! IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND! HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE! HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE! HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES! 'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say, 'But if we take the set away, What shall we do to entertain Our darling children? Please explain!' We'll answer this by asking you, 'What used the darling ones to do? 'How used they keep themselves contented Before this monster was invented?' Have you forgotten? Don't you know? We'll say it very loud and slow: THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ, AND READ and READ, and then proceed To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks! One half their lives was reading books! The nursery shelves held books galore! Books cluttered up the nursery floor! And in the bedroom, by the bed, More books were waiting to be read! Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales And treasure isles, and distant shores Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars, And pirates wearing purple pants, And sailing ships and elephants,

And cannibals crouching 'round the pot, Stirring away at something hot. (It smells so good, what can it be? Good gracious, it's Penelope.) The younger ones had Beatrix Potter With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter, And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland, And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle andJust How The Camel Got His Hump, And How the Monkey Lost His Rump, And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul, There's Mr. Rate and Mr. MoleOh, books, what books they used to know, Those children living long ago! So please, oh please, we beg, we pray, Go throw your TV set away, And in its place you can install A lovely bookshelf on the wall. Then fill the shelves with lots of books, Ignoring all the dirty looks, The screams and yells, the bites and kicks, And children hitting you with sticksFear not, because we promise you That, in about a week or two Of having nothing else to do, They'll now begin to feel the need Of having something to read. And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy! You watch the slowly growing joy That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen They'll wonder what they'd ever seen In that ridiculous machine, That nauseating, foul, unclean, Repulsive television screen! And later, each and every kid Will love you more for what you did.

Marriage Is A Private AffairSummary: "Marriage Is A Private Affair" tells the story of two young people who find themselves caught in a clash between old and new. Nene belongs to the Ibibo tribe, a region of southeastern Nigeria, while her soon to be husband Nnaemeka belongs to the Ibo tribe. When Nnaemeka moves to Lagos, the capital of Nigeria, to be with Nene an ancient tradition has clearly been broken. While Nene is excited to share her plans of marriage, Nnaemeka isn't so sure, for his father, Okeke is strongly against the marriage because Nene belongs to a different tribe. Nnaemeka was able to keep a small glimmer

of hope, thinking that with time his father would change his mind. However the old man could only reply, "I will never see her." This leaves Nnaemeka no choice but to move on without the consent of his father. He and Nene begin a happy marriage together, his father being one of the last people to know, and accept it. Then one day, the Okeke recieves an unexpected letter from Nene herself, that leaves him with a hard choice to make, one that could result in him fighting a losing battle. Apply the four levels of regarding with texts to Marriage is a Private Affair Ans: - It is one of the best short stories by Chinua Achbe. He is an Anglo-African writer, and he has very fine understanding of the African culture. Basically, Africa is a continent of numerous tribes. They all have their distinct cultures. It is the story of one such tribe, the Ibo tribe. Nnaemeka is an LBO boy from Iboboland, who has come to Laos. And has also married nane attended from this marriage. He had wanted his son to marry in his own tribe, and had even chosen a girl. So he breaks all relation with Nneameka and his wife. Nnaemeka stays back in Laos. People of his own tribe appreciated his wife. The news used to reach Okeke, but he would not melt. After some years through, when there is letter from Nene to Okeke, he has to melt. Nene had requested that he allow his grandsons, who were grown up children then, and who deeply wanted. Tough, she herself would not come due to his feelings. This whole story revolves around the conflict between Nnaemeka and his father, Okeke. After coming to Laos, Nnaemeka got a new world. This world was a cosmopolitan life of the capital. This life was very different from the life in Iboboland, the tribal life in a secluded corner of the country. This life changed his personality also. He become more opens minded and less traditional. He thought that Marriage was a private affair between the only two people involved in it. But Okeke was not convinced with this new generation thought. He was still traditional and he had deep with his roots. His thinking was that the final decision about the marriage of the son or daughter should be in the hands of the parents. This was the main reason for the conflict between them. It is a conflict of the principles. But, after all, Okeke was grandsons. Besides, it was also the patience that of Nnaemeka and more of Nene, which paid at the last. But as far as marriage in Nigeria is concerned, it is not a private affair, it seems from the story. This is truer for the rural and tribal area. As per my own views, I would say that marriages should be let to be a private affair, as long as children keep the sentiments of parents. The parents should also try to understand their children. But if they try to interface on the question of religious and caste, I would perhaps agree with such parents.

Marriage Is a Private Affair Chinua Achebe Have you written to your dad yet? asked Nene1 one afternoon as she sat with Nnaemeka in her room at 16 Kasanga Street, Lagos. No. Ive been thinking about it. I think its better to tell him when I get home on leave!

But why? Your leave is such a long way off yetsix whole weeks. He should be let into our happiness now. Nnaemeka was silent for a while, and then began very slowly as if he groped for his words: I wish I were sure it would be happiness to him. Of course it must, replied Nene, a little surprised. Why shouldnt it? You have lived in Lagos all your life, and you know very little about people in remote parts of the country. Thats what you always say. But I dont believe anybody will be so unlike other people that they will be unhappy when their sons are engaged to marry. Yes. They are most unhappy if the engagement is not arranged by them. In our case its worseyou are not even an Ibo. This was said so seriously and so bluntly that Nene could not find speech immediately. In the cosmopolitan atmosphere of the city it had always seemed to her something of a joke that a persons tribe could determine whom he married. At last she said, You dont really mean that he will object to your marrying me simply on that account? I had always thought you Ibos were kindly disposed to other people. So we are. But when it comes to marriage, well, its not quite so simple. And this, he added, is not peculiar to the Ibos. If your father were alive and lived in the heart of Ibibio-land he would be exactly like my father. I dont know. But anyway, as your father is so fond of you, Im sure he will forgive you soon enough. Come on then, be a good boy and send him a nice lovely letter . . . It would not be wise to break the news to him by writing. A letter will bring it upon him with a shock. Im quite sure about that. All right, honey, suit yourself. You know your father. As Nnaemeka walked home that evening he turned over in his mind different ways of overcoming his fathers opposition, especially now that he had gone and found a girl for him. He had thought of showing his letter to Nene but decided on second thoughts not to, at least for the moment. He read it again when he got home and couldnt help smiling to himself. He remembered Ugoye quite well, an Amazon of a girl who used to beat up all the boys, himself included, on the way to the stream, a complete dunce at school. I have found a girl who will suit you admirablyUgoye Nweke, the eldest daughter of our neighbor, Jacob Nweke. She has a proper Christian upbringing. When she stopped schooling some years ago her father (a man of sound judgment) sent her to live in the house of a pastor where she has received all the training a wife could need. Her Sunday school teacher has told me that she reads her Bible very fluently. I hope we shall begin negotiations when you come home in December. On the second evening of his return from Lagos, Nnaemeka sat with his father under a cassia tree. This was the old mans retreat where he went to read his Bible when the parching December sun had set and a fresh, reviving wind blew on the leaves. Father, began Nnaemeka suddenly, I have come to ask for forgiveness. Forgiveness? For what, my son? he asked in amazement. Its about this marriage question. Which marriage question?

I cantwe mustI mean it is impossible for me to marry Nwekes daughter. Impossible? Why? asked his father. I dont love her. Nobody said you did. Why should you? he asked. Marriage today is different . . . Look here, my son, interrupted his father, nothing is different. What one looks for in a wife are a good character and a Christian background. Nnaemeka saw there was no hope along the present line of argument. Moreover, he said, I am engaged to marry another girl who has all of Ugoyes good qualities, and who . . . His father did not believe his ears. What did you say? he asked slowly and disconcertingly. She is a good Christian, his son went on, and a teacher in a girls school in Lagos. Teacher, did you say? If you consider that a qualification for a good wife I should like to point out to you, Emeka, that no Christian woman should teach. St. Paul in his letter to the Corinthians says that women should keep silence. He rose slowly from his seat and paced forward and backward. This was his pet subject, and he condemned vehemently those church leaders who encouraged women to teach in their schools. After he had spent his emotion on a long homily he at last came back to his sons engagement, in a seemingly milder tone. Whose daughter is she, anyway? She is Nene Atang. What! All the mildness was gone again. Did you say Neneataga, what does that mean? Nene Atang from Calabar. She is the only girl I can marry. This was a very rash reply and Nnaemeka expected the storm to burst. But it did not. His father merely walked away into his room. This was most unexpected and perplexed Nnaemeka. His fathers silence was infinitely more menacing than a flood of threatening speech. That night the old man did not eat. When he sent for Nnaemeka a day later he applied all possible ways of dissuasion. But the young mans heart was hardened, and his father eventually gave him up as lost. I owe it to you, my son, as a duty to show you what is right and what is wrong. Whoever put this idea into your head might as well have cut your throat. It is Satans work. He waved his son away. You will change your mind, Father, when you know Nene. I shall never see her, was the reply. From that night the father scarcely spoke to his son. He did not, however, cease hoping that he would realize how serious was the danger he was heading for. Day and night he put him in his prayers. Nnaemeka, for his own part, was very deeply affected by his fathers grief. But he kept hoping that it would pass away. If it had occurred to him that never in the history of his people had a man married a woman who spoke a different tongue, he might have been less optimistic. It has never been heard, was the verdict of an old man speaking a few weeks later. In that short sentence he spoke for all of his people. This man had come with others to commiserate with Okeke when news went round about his sons behavior. By that time the son had gone back to Lagos.

It has never been heard, said the old man again with a sad shake of his head. What did Our Lord say? asked another gentleman. Sons shall rise against their Fathers; it is there in the Holy Book. It is the beginning of the end, said another. The discussion thus tending to become theological, Madubogwu, a highly practical man, brought it down once more to the ordinary level. Have you thought of consulting a native doctor about your son? he asked Nnaemekas father. He isnt sick, was the reply. What is he then? The boys mind is diseased and only a good herbalist can bring him back to his right senses. The medicine he requires is Amalile, the same that women apply with success to recapture their husbands straying affection. Madubogwu is right, said another gentleman. This thing calls for medicine. I shall not call in a native doctor. Nnaemekas father was known to be obstinately ahead of his more superstitious neighbors in these matters. I will not be another Mrs. Ochuba. If my son wants to kill himself let him do it with his own hands. It is not for me to help him. But it was her fault, said Madubogwu. She ought to have gone to an honest herbalist. She was a clever woman, nevertheless. She was a wicked murderess, said Jonathan, who rarely argued with his neighbors because, he often said, they were incapable of reasoning. The medicine was prepared for her husband, it was his name they called in its preparation, and I am sure it would have been perfectly beneficial to him. It was wicked to put it into the herbalists food, and say you were only trying it out. Six months later, Nnaemeka was showing his young wife a short letter from his father: It amazes me that you could be so unfeeling as to send me your wedding picture. I would have sent it back. But on further thought I decided just to cut off your wife and send it back to you because I have nothing to do with her. How I wish that I had nothing to do with you either. When Nene read through this letter and looked at the mutilated picture her eyes filled with tears, and she began to sob. Dont cry, my darling, said her husband. He is essentially good-natured and will one day look more kindly on our marriage. But years passed and that one day did not come. For eight years, Okeke would have nothing to do with his son, Nnaemeka. Only three times (when Nnaemeka asked to come home and spend his leave) did he write to him. I cant have you in my house, he replied on one occasion. It can be of no interest to me where or how you spend your leaveor your life, for that matter. The prejudice against Nnaemekas marriage was not confined to his little village. In Lagos, especially among his people who worked there, it showed itself in a different way. Their women, when they met at their village meeting, were not hostile to Nene. Rather, they paid her such excessive deference as to make her feel she was not one of them. But as time went on, Nene gradually broke through some of this prejudice and even began to make friends among them. Slowly and grudgingly they began to admit that she kept her home much better than most of them.

The story eventually got to the little village in the heart of the Ibo country that Nnaemeka and his young wife were a most happy couple. But his father was one of the few people in the village who knew nothing about this. He always displayed so much temper whenever his sons name was mentioned that everyone avoided it in his presence. By a tremendous effort of will he had succeeded in pushing his son to the back of his mind. The strain had nearly killed him but he had persevered, and won. Then one day he received a letter from Nene, and in spite of himself he began to glance through it perfunctorily until all of a sudden the expression on his face changed and he began to read more carefully. . . . Our two sons, from the day they learnt that they have a grandfather, have insisted on being taken to him. I find it impossible to tell them that you will not see them. I implore you to allow Nnaemeka to bring them home for a short time during his leave next month. I shall remain here in Lagos . . . The old man at once felt the resolution he had built up over so many years falling in. He was telling himself that he must not give in. He tried to steel his heart against all emotional appeals. It was a reenactment of that other struggle. He leaned against a window and looked out. The sky was overcast with heavy black clouds and a high wind began to blow, filling the air with dust and dry leaves. It was one of those rare occasions when even Nature takes a hand in a human fight. Very soon it began to rain, the first rain in the year. It came down in large sharp drops and was accompanied by the lightning and thunder which mark a change of season. Okeke was trying hard not to think of his two grandsons. But he knew he was now fighting a losing battle. He tried to hum a favorite hymn but the pattering of large raindrops on the roof broke up the tune. His mind immediately returned to the children. How could he shut his door against them? By a curious mental process he imagined them standing, sad and forsaken, under the harsh angry weathershut out from his house. That night he hardly slept, from remorseand a vague fear that he might die without making it up to them.

How Sane Are We Anuradha Chaudhary Anuradha Chaudhary is a professor of environmental biology. In this essay as a researcher of environment she talks about the degrading condition of the nature and surrounding. She begins her essay with an idea of Kipling who writes if the condition of the nature degrades in the same rapidity, we have to slain the heads of our generation in near future. Chaudhary sees that there is possibility of such catastrophe in human life because she has red about the laws like Parkinsons in which the leaders who are elected for making the laws of the state for the welfare of people are themselves engaged in power politics. To make irrationality and irresponsibility of human beings naked, Chaudhary believes that the students shouldnt believe in facts because they are published by the leaders to deceive the common people. At the same time, she also presents the facts after facts which make her essay more appealing and convincing. Chaudhary stresses on reshaping, rethinking on the ways of politics. Here Chaudhary satirizes those leaders whose goal is to get the power rather than solving the real

natural threats to human beings. Chaudhary writes that chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs) causes 20% green house effect which is capable of completely destroying life on earth. Here, Anuradha highlights the fact that the ozone depletion will take place completely if the use of cfcs continues. Chaudhary also mentions ozone layer protects our life by observing 99% ultra-violet rays. If it reaches to the earth, she believes more than 240 millions people get skin cancer, eight million might get eye cataracts which would result millions death. Chaudhary is appreciates to the decision o f some developed countries like United States, Canada, Sweden and Norway have banned in the use of cfcs in aerosol sprays. Chaudhary brings an example of science fiction to persuade us about the terrible effects of careless scientific inventions. Citing an illustration of the science fiction War with the Newts, Chaudhary shows us vividly that one day our own invention will be used to dig our own grave yard. Chaudhary sarcastically presents the evil effects of science and technology which has invented the different missiles, guns, arms and ammunitions which have transfigured our way of fighting in comparison with the way our forefather used to fight. That is to say, we no longer fight with the sticks and stones but we have highly modern weapons. But she wants to make us ponder on the fact: Is there any space for our satisfaction? Is there any place for the secured life of our upcoming generation? Of course not, it is because we have not comprehended and act for the solution for the adverse effect they have given on the nature. To conclude the point, Chaudhary presents the latent irrationality within the so-called rationality of the human beings and tries to persuade us to think seriously on our actions. She stresses repeatedly that there should not be any political play of power and personal power on the issues of environment in which the life of new generation itself is associated. Hence, Anuradhas individual contribution to generate the public consciousness through this essay is highly appreciative and praise worthy.

How sane are we? We are neglecting the nature we are living in and we are not able even to save the nature as our ancestors. We have not been worried about the forth coming danger due to our activities although we have been warned about it. We are digging our own graves and our future generation's. If we don't think about changing the present social, economical and political system of the world, we will have to face a great disaster in the future and we will ourselves be responsible for it. Politics is quite related to ecological system. So, people should choose a right leader freely who can help to save the environment or atmosphere wisely. Man has invented different kinds of harmful things for the nature CFCs is also a man made chemical which cause 20% of the green house effect. They also greatly effect on ozone layer by reducing its layer which blocks the 99% of the total ultraviolet radiation. If the sun's ultraviolet radiations reach the earth, it will badly disturb the natural eco system the agricultural product decrease people lose their sight. They can get skin cancer and it also suppress in the human immune system. CFCs was invented in 1930 and used in making refrigerators trays, spraying cans and computer chips. The government was warned by the scientists in 1974 that these chemicals destroy ozone but the government did not take it seriously. But the use of CFCs was banned in 1978

and in 1985 the CFCs ozone links was established. All the nations of the world agreed to stop this production by 2006 A.D by global phase out. It shows the rationality of human beings, yet some people want to stop their production immediately. Some skeptic people compare the production of CFCs to the war with the news people tried to save them from sharks and their number increase. So, they affected the lives of peop0le very badly. It was due to their shout sightedness. However, all the conscious people of the world are worried about the future of the world because of the mass misconduct. If the present system all over the world is not changed, we are sure to meet a great irreparable disaster in the future.

Third thoughts A friend of the writer told him a story. His friend had such luck that he had to buy in the dearest market and to sell in the cheapest. But one day, his luck change, he reached a portfolio of water colour drawing. He thought that it was the drawing of the famous turner but the dealer also was not sure, however he bought it for 10 shillings. Luckily, he was able to sell it for 50 pounds. He made the profit of 49 pounds and 10 shillings. Then he began to think. He believed that good luck should be shared. So, he began to bargain. He wanted to be honest. So, he decided to send him half of the profit. But it was evening and he could not send the profit immediately. At about 3:30 a.m. his eyes opened and he again began to examine his life's errors. He thought it would be his foolishness if gave him the amount. Then he decided to send him only 10 pounds. The next morning when he was dressing, he thought it would be a challenge to the goddess of wealth if he sent 10 pounds. Lastly, he decided to give him only 1 pound. For lunch he reached the club. There he played bridge and lost much money. So, he became happy for not posting the money.

King John And The Abbot Of Canterbury An ancient story Ile tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintein'd little right. And Ile tell you a story, a story so merrye, Concerning the Abbot of Canterburye, How for his house-keeping and high renowne, They rode poste for him to fair London towne. An hundred men, the king did heare say, The abbot kept in his house every day; And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt, In velvet coates waited the abbot about. 'How now, father abbot, I heare if of thee,

Thou keepest a farre better house than mee; And for thy house-keeping and high renowne, I feare thou work'st treason against my crown.' 'My liege,' quo' the abbot, 'I would it were knowne I never spend nothing, but what is my owne; And I trust your grace will doe me no deere, For spending of my owne true-gotten geere.' 'Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault is highe, And now for the same thou needest must dye; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie. 'And first,' quo' the king, 'when I'm in this stead, With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe. 'Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride the whole world about; And at the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think.' 'O, these are hard questions for my shallow witt, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet: But if you will give me but three weekes space, Ile do my endeavour to answer your grace.' 'Now three weeks space to thee will I give, And this is the longest time thou hast to live; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to mee.' Away rode the abbot all sad at that word, And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise. Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold, And he mett his shepheard a going to fold: 'How now, my lord abbot, you welcome home; What newes do you bring us from good King John?' 'Sad newes, sad newes, shepeard, I must give, That I must but three days more to live;

For if I do not answer him questions three, My head will be smitten from my bodie. 'The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crowne of golde so fair on his head, Among all his liege-men so noble of birth, To within one penny of what he is worth. 'The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt, How soone he may ride this whole world about; And at the third question I must not shrinke, But tell him there truly what he does thinke.' 'Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learn a wise man witt? Lend me horse, and serving men, and your apparel, And I'll ride to London to answere your quarrel. 'Nay frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee, I am like your lordship, as ever may bee; And if you will but lend me your gowne, There is none shall knowe us at fair London towne.' 'Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have, With sumptuous array most gallant and brave, With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the pope.' 'Now, welcome, sire abbot,' the king he did say, 'Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day: For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee. 'And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, With my crown of golde so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Tell me to one penny what I am worth.' 'For thirty pence our Saviour was sold Amonge the false Jewes, as I have bin told: And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, For I thinke thou art one penny worser than hee.' The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel, 'I did not think I had been worth so littel! - Now secondly tell mee, without any doubt,

How soone I may ride this whole world about.' 'You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth againe; And then your grace need not make any doubt But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about.' The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, 'I did not think it could be gone so soone! - Now from the third question thou must not shrinke, But tell me here truly what I do thinke.' 'Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry; You thinke I'm the Abbot of Canterbury; But I'm this poor shepheard, as plain you may see, That am come to bed pardon for him and for mee.' The king he laughed, and swore by the masse, 'Ile make thee lord abbot this day in his place!' 'Now naye, my liege, be not in such speede, For alacke I can neither write ne reade.' 'Four nobles a weeke, then, I will give thee, For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee; And tell the old abbot when thou comest home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John.'

Summary, "The Abbot of Canterbury" Introduction The poem The Abbot of Canterbury, included in our book, is a ballad. Ballads have crude language because fine writing would not be suitable for the telling of this straightforward and amusing folk story. King John ruled England from 1199 to 1219, was a very unpleasant man and a thoroughly bad kind. Structure of Poem The Abbot of Canterbury is a ballad of unknown poet telling an ancient story consisting of 100 lines of regular rhythm. Summary There was a king of England whose name was King John. He ruled England very cruelly and he always did the wrong thing. Once he came to know that there was an Abbot of Canterbury who was leading life better than the king. He had one hundred servants and each one there wore fifty gold chains and velvet coat. They where always ready to serve the Abbot. For very minor things they used to go to the city of London.

This way of leading life angered the king and his sent for the Abbot to explain his position before the king. The Abbot said to him that he was spending the money so luxuriously because he had inherited a lot of money from his fore fathers. The king disbelieved him and charged him to be a traitor. The king said to Abbot that his life and properties would be confiscated by the government if he could not answer his three questions. There was given three weeks time to answer those questions. The first question was what his worth and value was when he was having such a precious crown on his head. The second question was how soon he could make the journey of the whole world. The third question was that he was thinking at that time when he was talking to the Abbot of Canterbury. After listening three questions the Abbot was very much confuse. He confessed that he had no mind to answer those difficult questions. He went to many universities but no one was able to answer him. Then the shepherd of the Abbot offered him that he would imposter the Abbot prodded he was given the relevant dress of the Abbot. In reply to the first question he said that his value was twenty-nine pence. In response to the second question he said if he rose with the sun and rode with the same he would complete the journey of the world in 24 hours. In response to the third question he said that he thinking that he was talking to the Abbot by he was not the Abbot but the shepherd. The king was very happy, he rewarded him and pardoned the Abbot.

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