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LiteratureReader 7James M. PaulGowri Sarkar

3Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford.

It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of

Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries.

Published in India by Oxford University Press

Ground Floor, 2/11, Ansari Road, Daryaganj, New Delhi 110002, India

© Oxford University Press 2019

The moral rights of the author/s have been asserted.

First published in 2019*

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the

prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics

rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the

address above.

You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer.

ISBN-13: 978-0-19-949433-0ISBN-10: 0-19-949433-9

Typeset in Univers LT Std 55 Roman by Recto Graphics, Delhi 110096

Printed in India by International Print-o-Pac Limited, Noida 201305

Oxford Areal is a third-party software. Any links to third-party software are provided "as is" without warranty of any kind, either expressed or implied, and such software is to be used at your own risk.

Although we have made every effort to trace and contact copyright holders before publication, this has not been possible in all cases. If notified, the publisher will rectify any errors or

omissions at the earliest opportunity.

*English Access Literature Reader 7 is an adaptation of Oxford Ink Literature Reader 7 © Oxford University Press 2017

Contents

Introduction iv

Acknowledgements vi

1. A Retrieved Reformation—O. Henry 1

2. The Beauty of Difference 12

Poem: Moustache Thievery—Sukumar Ray 21

3. The Silver Lining—Chaman Nahal 25

4. The Man in Asbestos—Stephen Leacock 35

Poem: Daffodils—William Wordsworth 47

5. The Kitemaker—Ruskin Bond 50

Poem: Palanquin Bearers—Sarojini Naidu 57

6. A Bushel of Learning—Gerald Durrell 60

Poem: The Inchcape Rock—Robert Southey 69

7. The Diary of Anne Frank—Anne Frank 74

iii

3Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford.

It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of

Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries.

Published in India by Oxford University Press

Ground Floor, 2/11, Ansari Road, Daryaganj, New Delhi 110002, India

© Oxford University Press 2019

The moral rights of the author/s have been asserted.

First published in 2019*

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the

prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics

rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the

address above.

You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer.

ISBN-13: 978-0-19-949433-0ISBN-10: 0-19-949433-9

Typeset in Univers LT Std 55 Roman by Recto Graphics, Delhi 110096

Printed in India by International Print-o-Pac Limited, Noida 201305

Oxford Areal is a third-party software. Any links to third-party software are provided "as is" without warranty of any kind, either expressed or implied, and such software is to be used at your own risk.

Although we have made every effort to trace and contact copyright holders before publication, this has not been possible in all cases. If notified, the publisher will rectify any errors or

omissions at the earliest opportunity.

*English Access Literature Reader 7 is an adaptation of Oxford Ink Literature Reader 7 © Oxford University Press 2017

IntroductionEnglish Access: an innovative approach to English language learning is a new communicative course with a fresh and contemporary approach to learning. Embedded in the course are universal values of social justice and truth with focus on the inherent diversity of India as well as global themes relevant to our students. The course is designed to reduce the

curriculum load while providing a high quality, stimulating learning experience that is joyful, creative and participative.

Value-based learning integration of value-based learning, with a variety of tools to reinforce constitutional,

scientific, personal, interpersonal, global and eternal values across the series

Building communication skills integrated listening and

speaking activities to build and improve all-round

communication skills

Carefully designed course curriculum

• lighter curriculum with greater focus on higher order thinking skills

• perfect balance of reading texts, exercises and

integrated practice worksheets

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Comprehensive grammar syllabus

carefully graded grammar syllabus includes extensive

explanations, practice and extension exercises

that make English Access a self-sufficient language

learning course

5

7

Wide-ranging reading texts from India and around the world

• classic and contemporary prose and poetry selections

• students are exposed to reading formats that they will encounter in real life:

magazine articles, book and film reviews, advertisements, blogs, interviews, diary entries, cartoons, news reports

2

SPECIAL FEATURES OF ENGLISH ACCESS

6

4Assessments for feedback and remedial action

Ongoing and differentiated evaluation through:

• Subject Enrichment • Tests• Examination • Critical Thinking and

Analysis• Language Practice

• Projects• Life skills• Self and peer

assessment• Value-based in-text

and comprehension questions

Interlinked skill-based exercises

interlinking LSRW skill-based exercises

across the unit to help learners apply skills

cross-functionally

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iv

FEATURES OF LITERATURE REAdERSInteractive and

discussion-based warm-up prepares learners for the theme of

the unit.

Reading texts comprise classic

and contemporary selections from across the world—covering

different genres, variety of themes

and universal values.In-text value

questions bring out the

inherent values in each unit while

reading the text.

Appreciation questions are

formulated to analyze the text and appreciate

the use of language. The section contains factual,

inferential, evaluative and extrapolative

questions.

Poems are carefully chosen to enable the learners to appreciate and enjoy all kinds of

poetry.

Oxford Areal makes the poems

come alive through animations.

Questions on literary devices

help the learners to explore the

nuances of literary expressions like figurative and

idiomatic usages.

v

Writing is theme-based,

aimed at enhancing creative writing

skills of learners.

Acknowledgements

The publishers would like to acknowledge the following for granting us

permission to use the pieces listed below:

‘A Retrieved Reformation’ by O. Henry; Prasenjit Gupta for ‘Mustache Thievery’

by Sukumar Ray, translated by Prasenjit Gupta, published on www.parabaas.

com; Dr Anita Nahal for ‘The Silver Lining’ by Chaman Nahal; ‘The Man in

Asbestos’ by Stephen Leacock from Nonsense Novels; ‘Daffodils’ by William

Wordsworth from Poems in Two Volumes; ‘The Kitemaker’ by Ruskin Bond; ‘The

Palanquin Bearers’ by Sarojini Naidu; Curtis Brown Group Ltd for the extract

from ‘A Bushel of Learning’ from My Family and Other Animals published by

Penguin Books Ltd; ‘The Inchcape Rock’ by Robert Southey

The publishers have applied to the following for permission:

‘The Beauty of Difference’ from worldstories.org.uk; bloom@dramatists.com

and Penguin Books Ltd for the excerpt from ‘The Diary of Anne Frank’

Photographs:

'Moustache Thievery' background, pp. 21–22: © alicedaniel/Shutterstock; 'Daffodils' background, pp. 47–48: © annaveroniq/Shutterstock

vi

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1. A Retrieved Reformation

Often, life presents us with ironic situations that are the exact opposite of what we expected. Can you think of any such incidents from your own life? Share those anecdotes with your friends.

Read this story by O. Henry, where you will find many interesting events, some of them may seem quite unusual, too.

In the prison shoeshop, Jimmy Valentine was busily at work making shoes. A prison officer came into the shop, and led Jimmy to the prison office. There Jimmy was given an important paper. It said that he was free.

Jimmy took the paper without showing much pleasure or interest. He had been sent to prison to stay for four years. He had been there for ten months. But he had expected to stay only three months. Jimmy Valentine had many friends outside the prison. A man with so many friends does not expect to stay in prison long.

‘Valentine,’ said the chief prison officer, ‘you’ll go out tomorrow morning. This is your chance. Make a man of yourself. You’re not a bad fellow at heart. Stop breaking safes1 open, and live a better life.’

‘Me?’ said Jimmy in surprise. ‘I never broke open a safe in my life.’

‘Oh, no,’ the chief prison officer laughed. ‘Never. Let’s see. How did you happen to get sent to prison for opening that safe in Springfield2? Was it because you didn’t want to tell where you really were? Perhaps because you were with some lady, and you didn’t want to tell her name? Or was

1safe: steel or iron box where money, jewellery or important papers are kept for safety | 2Springfield: a city in the state of Massachusetts, United States of America

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it because the judge didn’t like you? You men always have a reason like that. You never go to prison because you broke open a safe.’

‘Me?’ Jimmy said. His face still showed surprise. ‘I was never in Springfield in my life.’

‘Take him away,’ said the chief prison officer. ‘Get him the clothes he needs for going outside. Bring him here again at seven in the morning. And think about what I said, Valentine.’

At a quarter past seven on the next morning, Jimmy stood again in the office. He had on some new clothes that did not fit him, and a pair of new shoes that hurt his feet. These are the usual clothes given to a prisoner when he leaves the prison.

Next they gave him money to pay for his trip on a train to the city near the prison. They gave him five dollars more. The five dollars were supposed to help him become a better man.

Then the chief prison officer put out his hand for a handshake. That was the end of Valentine, Prisoner 9762. Mr James Valentine walked out into the sunshine.

He did not listen to the song of the birds or look at the green trees or smell the flowers. He went straight to a restaurant. There he tasted the first sweet joys of being free. He had a good dinner. After that he went to the train station. He gave some money to a blind man who sat there, asking for money, and then he got on the train.

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Three hours later he got off the train in a small town. Here he went to the restaurant of Mike Dolan.

Mike Dolan was alone there. After shaking hands he said, ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t do it sooner, Jimmy my boy. But there was that safe in Springfield, too. It wasn’t easy. Feeling all right?’

‘Fine,’ said Jimmy. ‘Is my room waiting for me?’

He went up and opened the door of a room at the back of the house. Everything was as he had left it. It was here they had found Jimmy, when they took him to prison. There on the floor was a small piece of cloth. It had been torn from the coat of the cop3, as Jimmy was fighting to escape.

There was a bed against the wall. Jimmy pulled the bed toward the middle of the room. The wall behind it looked like any wall, but now Jimmy found and opened a small door in it. From this opening he pulled out a dust-covered bag.

He opened this and looked lovingly at the tools for breaking open a safe. No finer tools could be found any place. They were complete; everything needed was here. They had been made of a special material, in the necessary sizes and shapes. Jimmy had planned them himself, and he was very proud of them.

It had cost him over nine hundred dollars to have these tools made at a place where they make such things for men who work at the job of safe-breaking.

In half an hour Jimmy went downstairs and through the restaurant. He was now dressed in good clothes that fitted him well. He carried his dusted and cleaned bag.

3cop: policeman

4

‘Do you have anything planned?’ asked Mike Dolan.

‘Me?’ asked Jimmy, as if surprised. ‘I don’t understand. I work for the New York Famous Bread and Cake Makers Company. And I sell the best bread and cake in the country.’

Mike enjoyed these words so much that Jimmy had to take a drink with him. Jimmy had some milk. He never drank anything stronger.

A week after Valentine, 9762, left the prison, a safe was broken open in Richmond, Indiana. No one knew who did it. Eight hundred dollars were taken.

Two weeks after that, a safe in Logansport was opened. It was a new kind of safe; it had been made, they said, so strong that no one could break it open. But someone did, and took fifteen hundred dollars.

Then, a safe in Jefferson City was opened. Five thousand dollars were taken. This loss was a big one. Ben Price was a cop who worked on such important matters, and now he began to work on this case.

He went to Richmond, Indiana, and to Logansport, to see how the safe-breaking had been done in those places. He was heard to say: ‘I can see that Jim Valentine has been here. He is in business again. Look at the way he opened this one. Everything easy, everything clean. He is the only man who has the tools to do it. And he is the only man who knows how to use tools like this. Yes, I want Mr Valentine. Next time he goes to prison, he’s going to stay there until his time is finished.’

Ben Price knew how Jimmy worked. Jimmy would go from one city to another far away. He always worked alone. He always left quickly when he was finished. He enjoyed being with nice people. For all these reasons, it was not easy to catch Mr Valentine.

People with safes full of money were glad to hear that Ben Price was at work trying to catch Mr Valentine.

One afternoon, Jimmy Valentine and his bag arrived in a small town named Elmore. Jimmy, looking as young as a college boy, walked down the street toward the hotel.

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A young lady walked across the street, passed him at the corner, and entered a door. Over the door was the sign, ‘The Elmore Bank.’ Jimmy Valentine looked into her eyes, forgetting at once what he was. He became another man. She looked away, and brighter colour came into her face. Young men like Jimmy did not appear often in Elmore.

Jimmy saw a boy near the bank door, and began to ask questions about the town. After a time, the young lady came out and went on her way. She seemed not to see Jimmy as she passed him.

‘Isn’t that young lady Polly Simpson?’ asked Jimmy.

‘No,’ said the boy. ‘She’s Annabel Adams. Her father owns this bank.’

Jimmy went to the hotel, where he said his name was Ralph D. Spencer. He got a room there. He told the man at the hotel he had come to Elmore to go into business. How was the shoe business? Was there already a good shoeshop?

The man thought that Jimmy’s clothes and manners were fine. He was happy to talk to him.

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Yes, Elmore needed a good shoeshop. There was no shop that sold just shoes. Shoes were sold in the big shops that sold everything. All business in Elmore was good. He hoped Mr Spencer would decide to stay in Elmore. It was a pleasant town to live in and the people were friendly.

Mr Spencer said he would stay in the town for a few days and learn something about it. No, he said, he himself would carry his bag up to his room. He didn’t want a boy to take it. It was very heavy.

Mr Ralph Spencer remained in Elmore. He started a shoeshop. Business was good.

Also, he made many friends. And he was successful with the wish of his heart. He met Annabel Adams. He liked her better every day.

At the end of a year everyone in Elmore liked Mr Ralph Spencer. His shoeshop was doing very good business. And he and Annabel were going to be married in two weeks. Mr Adams, the small-town banker, liked Spencer. Annabel was very proud of him. He seemed already to belong to the Adams family.

One day, Jimmy sat down in his room to write this letter, which he sent to one of his old friends:

??

What made everyone in Elmore like Ralph Spencer?

Dear Old Friend:

I want you to meet me at Sullivan’s place next week, on the evening of

the 10th. I want to give you my tools. I know you’ll be glad to have them.

You couldn’t buy them for a thousand dollars. I finished with the old

business—a year ago. I have a nice shop. I’m living a better life, and I’m

going to marry the best girl on earth two weeks from now. It’s the only

life—I wouldn’t ever again touch another man’s money. After I marry,

I’m going to go further west, where I’ll never see anyone who knew me in

my old life. I tell you, she’s a wonderful girl. She trusts me.

Your old friend, Jimmy

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On the Monday night after Jimmy sent this letter, Ben Price arrived quietly in Elmore. He moved slowly about the town in his quiet way, and he learned all that he wanted to know. Standing inside a shop, he watched Ralph D. Spencer walk by.

‘You’re going to marry the banker’s daughter, are you, Jimmy?’ said Ben to himself. ‘I don’t feel sure about that!’

The next morning, Jimmy was at the Adams’ home. He was going to a nearby city that day to buy new clothes for the wedding. He was also going to buy a gift for Annabel. It would be his first trip out of Elmore. It was more than a year now since he had done any safe-breaking.

Most of the Adams family went to the bank together that morning. There were Mr Adams, Annabel, Jimmy and Annabel’s married sister with her two little girls, aged five and nine. They passed Jimmy’s hotel, and Jimmy ran up to his room and brought along his bag. Then they went to the bank.

All went inside—Jimmy, too, for he was one of the family. Everyone in the bank was glad to see the good-looking, nice young man who was going to marry Annabel. Jimmy put down his bag.

Annabel, laughing, put Jimmy’s hat on her head and picked up the bag. ‘How do I look?’ she asked. ‘Ralph, how heavy this bag is! It feels full of gold.’

‘It’s full of some things I don’t need in my shop,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’m taking them to the city, to the place where they came from. That saves me the cost of sending them. I’m going to be a married man. I must learn to save money.’

The Elmore bank had a new safe. Mr Adams was very proud of it, and he wanted everyone to see it. It was as large as a small room, and it had a very special door. The door was controlled by a clock. Using the clock, the banker planned the time when the door should open. At other times, no one, not even the banker himself, could open it. He explained about it to Mr Spencer. Mr Spencer seemed interested but he did not seem to understand very easily. The two children, May and Agatha, enjoyed seeing the shining heavy door, with all its special parts.

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While they were busy like this, Ben Price entered the bank and looked around. He told a young man who worked there that he had not come on business; he was waiting for a man.

Suddenly, there was a cry from the women. They had not been watching the children. May, the nine-year-old girl, had playfully but firmly closed the door of the safe. And Agatha was inside.

The old banker tried to open the door. He pulled at it for a moment. ‘The door can’t be opened,’ he cried. ‘And the clock—I hadn’t started it yet.’

Agatha’s mother cried out again.

‘Quiet!’ said Mr Adams, raising a shaking hand. ‘All be quiet for a moment. Agatha!’ he called as loudly as he could. ‘Listen to me.’ They could hear, but not clearly, the sound of the child’s voice. In the darkness inside the safe, she was wild with fear.

‘My baby!’ her mother cried. ‘She will die of fear! Open the door! Break it open! Can’t you men do something?’

‘There isn’t a man nearer than the city who can open that door,’ said Mr Adams, in a shaking voice. ‘My God! Spencer, what shall we do? That child—she can’t live long in there. There isn’t enough air. And the fear will kill her.’

Agatha’s mother, wild too now, beat on the door with her hands. Annabel turned to Jimmy, her large eyes full of pain, but with some hope, too. A woman thinks that the man she loves can somehow do anything.

‘Can’t you do something, Ralph? Try, won’t you?’

He looked at her with a strange soft smile on his lips and in his eyes.

‘Annabel,’ he said, ‘give me that flower you are wearing, will you?’

She could not believe that she had really heard him. But she put the flower in his hand. Jimmy took it and

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put it where he could not lose it. Then he pulled off his coat. With that act, Ralph D. Spencer passed away and Jimmy Valentine took his place.

‘Stand away from the door, all of you,’ he commanded.

He put his bag on the table, and opened it flat. From that time on, he seemed not to know that anyone else was near. Quickly he laid the shining strange tools on the table. The others watched as if they had lost the power to move.

In a minute Jimmy was at work on the door. In ten minutes—faster than he had ever done it before—he had the door open.

Agatha was taken into her mother’s arms.

Jimmy Valentine put on his coat, picked up the flower and walked toward the front door. As he went he thought he heard a voice call, ‘Ralph!’ He did not stop.

At the door a big man stood in his way.

‘Hello, Ben!’ said Jimmy, still with his strange smile. ‘You’re here at last, are you? Let’s go. I don’t care, now.’

And then Ben Price acted rather strangely.

‘I guess you’re wrong about this, Mr Spencer,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe I know you, do I?’

And Ben Price turned and walked slowly down the street.

(Abridged from the original story) O. Henry

O. Henry (1862–1910) was an American short story writer. His works depict the

society of his time and are characterized by his unique wit and surprise endings. He

began his writing career in 1877, with freelance sketches. In 1896, he was wrongly

accused of embezzling funds and had to serve three years in prison. During this

time, he wrote the short stories that would later form the collection titled Cabbages and Kings, published in 1904. The Four Million, Heart of the West, The Trimmed Lamp, The Gentle Grafter, The Voice of the City, Options, Whirligigs and Strictly Business are some of his popular short story collections.

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Appreciation

1. Say whether the following statements are true (T) or false (F). a. Jimmy had stayed in prison for only three months. b. Jimmy had never been to Springfi eld in his life. c. Mike Dolan had helped Jimmy leave the prison before his

sentence was completed. d. Jimmy had made the tools for safe-breaking himself. e. Jimmy stole fi ve thousand dollars from a safe in

Jefferson City. 2. Mike Dolan was alone there. After shaking hands he said, ‘I’m sorry

we couldn’t do it sooner, Jimmy my boy … a. Who was Jimmy?b. Where had he come from?c. What could Mike not do sooner? Why?

3. The narrator hints that Jimmy was a cautious person. Support this statement with examples from the text.

4. There was a stark change in Jimmy’s character after he saw Annabel for the first time. Briefly describe the changes in his character, with references to the text.

5. After I marry, I’m going to go further west … a. Who was the speaker going to marry?b. Why did the speaker want to go ‘further west’?c. What does this statement say about the speaker?

6. ‘Hello, Ben!’ said Jimmy, still with his strange smile. ‘You’re here at last, are you?’a. Who is Ben? How did the speaker know him?b. Do you think Jimmy said ‘at last’ because he was expecting Ben?c. Why did Jimmy have a ‘strange smile’ on his face?

7. Jimmy successfully opened the safe at the Elmore bank and rescued Agatha. Then, he surrendered to Ben Price. Why do you think he did so? Give reasons for your answer.

VB

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8. In literature, irony refers to an outcome that is contrary to what was, or might have been, expected. Can you find examples of irony from the story?

9. Explain the title of the story ‘A Retrieved Reformation’ in your own words.

10. Write a short story about Jimmy’s life before he got arrested and sent to jail for the Springfield robbery.

Here are a few ideas to get you started:

a bright young boy who took to stealing to support his poor family—easily managed to avoid arrest—leader of neighbourhood crooks—changed cities—well connected but worked alone—distinct style and craft—kept company with the rich—police could never know his true identity—fateful afternoon in Springfield 

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Have you ever travelled to an unknown place on your own? How did you feel—excited, nervous, scared or adventurous? How would you prepare for your trip if you had to travel alone? Form pairs and discuss with your partner.

Read this story about a young girl who goes to live in a new place, and how she learns to adjust to and appreciate it.

Shirin was still a relatively young girl when her parents sent her away from her home in Tehran1 to live in a big city in England called London.

Shirin did not like the idea of going to live with her cousins in England, but her mother told her, ‘It is best, little one. It is no longer safe here and you will have an exciting new life in England and you will make all kinds of new friends.’

Little Shirin wanted to cry because she loved her mother and father very much and she did not want to leave them. Also, she did not know her cousins at all. They had only visited once and Shirin was too little to understand what they were saying because they did not speak Farsi2— which Shirin thought was very strange indeed.

And so the day arrived and Shirin’s mother and father drove her to the airport where she would be escorted3 on to the plane by her aunty.

‘I’m scared,’ said Shirin, as her father and mother walked her to the little booth where the man would look at her passport and check her ticket.

‘How can you be scared?’ asked her father. ‘Aren’t you the brave little girl who was never afraid when the bombs could be heard dropping on

2. The Beauty of difference

1Tehran: the capital city of Iran | 2Farsi: the modern version of the Old Persian language, primarily spoken in Iran, Afghanistan and Tajikistan | 3escorted: accompanied; shown the way

1313

the city? And aren’t you the girl who always insisted that we take you to school every day even when the other little girls were too afraid to go and stayed at home with their parents?’

‘That’s different,’ said Shirin. ‘This is my home.’

Shirin’s mother knelt down beside the little girl and hugged her and stroked her hair. She said to her daughter: ‘I know that you will make us proud, little one. And don’t you worry, soon your father and I will come to England and you can show us all of the things to see in London. I bet you will be speaking English even better than you do already and you can teach me some new words.’

Shirin liked the idea of teaching her mother new words because she thought that her mother was the cleverest person in the whole wide world.

‘I suppose I could do that,’ said the little girl as her aunty took her hand and explained that it was time to get on to the aeroplane before it flew off without them.

During the long flight to England, little Shirin tried to imagine what her new life would be like. She was determined to do well at school and she told herself that she would make her parents very proud.

‘I can do this,’ she thought. ‘I can do this as easily as picking flowers.’

Then the little girl fell asleep and dreamed of what London would be like. She dreamed about tall clocks and wide rivers; she pictured old men in bowler hats4, ladies with umbrellas, bright red buses, and the big house where the Queen lived with all of her guards in their tall fuzzy5 hats and long boots.

??

Is it right for children to have their lives disrupted by war and conflict?

4bowler hats: hard black hats with a curved brim and round top, popular with businessmen in Britain during the early twentieth century | 5fuzzy: covered with soft fine hair or fur

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But when she arrived at the airport in London it was not as she had imagined at all. The sky was a horrible grey colour and it was windy and raining. Shirin wished that she had not decided to wear her sandals because her toes were very cold. And worst of all ... worst of all was the feeling that everybody was looking at her as if she was an alien with a big head and three eyes.

Shirin noticed with surprise that she was the only one wearing a chador6. A girl standing close by pointed and laughed and asked her mummy: ‘Why is she wearing a big cloth wrapped around her like that?’

The mother pulled the little girl away and told her that it was rude to point. Shirin wanted to tell the little girl that it was not a big cloth, it was a chador, and in Tehran many of the girls and their mothers and grandmothers wore a chador because it was a part of their culture.

Of course, Shirin wanted to take her chador off because she did not like being stared at in such a way, and she wished that she was back in Tehran where it was sunny and her toes would be warm once more.

‘Let’s get you home,’ said her aunty as she hurried the young girl into a big black taxi with an orange light on its roof.

Shirin thought that the taxi driver sounded very funny. Not at all like her English teacher Mr Rahimi. He said things like ‘Blimey’7 and ‘awright love, where to?’ Little Shirin did not understand these words, but luckily her aunty seemed to understand and they were soon whizzing through the city towards her new home.

Shirin wanted to ask her aunty why she did not wear a chador in England even though she always wore one when she visited her mother in Tehran.

6chador: a traditional head-to-foot garment worn by women, consisting of a long cloth or veil that covers all or part of the face | 7blimey: exclamation used to show anger or surprise

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‘She must be in disguise,’ thought the young girl. But Shirin also remembered that her mother had always told her it was no use trying to hide your true self from others, so Shirin wondered why her aunty chose to be in disguise when in England.

London turned out to be a very strange place indeed. It rained every day for the first week and Shirin did not think much of British summertime at all. She had trouble understanding what people were saying even though she was told that her English was very good. And it turned out that not just anybody could go and say hello to the Queen in her big house even though there must have been a hundred rooms in which to welcome visitors and have tea.

The young girl was very disappointed in her new home and she missed her mother and her father and her friends. Even the food was different: it was grey like the weather and seemed to come out of boxes from the freezer, not like her mother’s loobia polo8 with saffron, or crispy tah deeg9 which was colourful and delicious to eat.

When the day arrived for Shirin to go to her new school, she was very nervous and tried to convince her aunty that she was too sick to get out of bed.

‘I don’t want to go,’ she protested. ‘I don’t know anybody and people keep staring at me!’

‘There are lots of girls at school who wear a chador just like you, little one,’ said her aunty. ‘I am sure you will make lots of friends today, you just wait and see.’

But it did not go that way at all, not at first anyway. There were indeed other girls who wore a chador, but they were all older than Shirin and they refused to speak to her. The girls in her own class pointed and laughed. They all had light brown hair or blond10 hair

8loobia polo: a Persian one-pot dish that has rice, meat, green beans, tomato paste and curry spices | 9tah-deeg: a speciality of Iranian cuisine, it consists of crisp rice taken from the bottom of the pot in which it is cooked | 10blond: pale gold in colour

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and blue eyes, and they did not want to make friends with the new girl because she was different from them and had dark skin and dark eyes and wore a chador. It did not feel good to be so different from others and Shirin wished once more that she was back home with her mother.

It was during lunch break, as she was sitting in a corner of the playground planning her big escape back to Tehran, that a young boy approached little Shirin.

‘My name is Stephen,’ said the boy. ‘Would you like to share some of my milkshake with me?’ And with that the young boy offered Shirin his strawberry milkshake with a straw in the lid.

Shirin thought that the milkshake tasted amazing and had to stop herself from drinking it all up.

‘Don’t pay any attention to the others. They are mean to me too sometimes because I live with my mum. My dad left us a long time ago and now it is just the two of us. My mum is brilliant and looks after me really well, but we don’t have much money and they always laugh at me because they say I am poor and have dirty clothes.’ Stephen looked down at his blazer and shoes and shrugged. ‘They’re not dirty, they’re just old.’

The young boy suddenly broke into a big smile. ‘They are silly anyway. What do they know!’ Shirin laughed because Stephen had a lovely smile and also, he had a big strawberry moustache from pulling out the straw of his milkshake and drinking straight from the bottle, all down in one gulp with a glug, glugging sound.

The young girl had to admit that she had never let other people’s opinions bother her before, so why should she start now?

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‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘What do they know anyway!’ And in exchange for giving her some of his milkshake, Shirin pulled four pieces of baklava11 from her pocket and shared the sweet pastries with her new friend.

‘I think your headscarf looks cool,’ said Stephen as he wolfed down a whole piece of baklava in one go.

‘It‘s called a chador,’ Shirin told him.

The young boy rolled the words around in his mouth along with the sugary baklava. ‘Well, it looks really cool,’ he said.

Suddenly Stephen pulled his blazer up over his head so that he too was wearing a kind of chador. Shirin had to laugh again as the boy looked very funny indeed. She imagined that her mother and father would like Stephen very much because he was a strong person and always looked on the bright side of life, which Shirin’s mother said was very important for people to do.

Soon the two were lost in games of make-believe and adventure, running about in the corner of the playground, chasing each other all over the place. They exchanged stories and Shirin told Stephen all about life in Tehran, while Stephen told Shirin about all of the cool things you could do in London, like play in the big park or go to the zoo or the cinema. There was even a huge wheel that you could ride in. ‘They built it right on the edge of the River Thames. It’s massive!’ he exclaimed as he made a big circle in the air with his arms.

Well, it was not too long before the other children noticed how much fun Shirin and Stephen were having, and very soon they began to gather around and join in with the games and the

??

Should we let other people’s opinions influence our way of life?

11baklava: a dessert from the Middle East, made with thin pastry, nuts and honey

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stories. Before the bell rang to call the children back to class, there was a big group of children who had gathered around listening to Shirin tell stories about life in Tehran and how she had hidden under her bed when she heard the bombs dropping from the sky at night, or how she would visit her crazy uncle, who lived in a big house on the beach, for holidays. The children were amazed to hear such stories and could not help asking lots of questions which Shirin was happy to answer.

In turn, Shirin asked about England and why it was so cold even though it was summertime, and why the Queen didn’t like visitors. This made the children laugh.

In the end, a teacher had to come out to the playground and call the children back to class because they had not even noticed the bell ringing because they were having so much fun.

On her way across the playground, Shirin felt a great rush of gratitude12 towards Stephen because he had shown her something very important. ‘It is okay to be different,’ she told herself. ‘In fact, it is really quite beautiful.’ And with this thought held firmly in her mind, little Shirin was determined to make a new life for herself in England and make her parents very proud. ‘Who knows,’ she thought, ‘perhaps when my mother and father get here they will know how I can get to meet the Queen.’

Appreciation

1. Choose the correct answers.a. Shirin went to live in England because .

i. she was bored at home during the holidaysii. her parents wanted her to have a good educationiii. it was no longer safe for her to live in Tehraniv. she wanted to live with her cousins in London

12gratitude: the quality of being thankful

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b. London, in reality, was very different from Shirin’s imagination because .i. old men didn’t wear bowler hats any moreii. she was not allowed to meet the Queeniii. it was cold, windy, raining and the sky was a horrible greyiv. the red buses were missing and the river was frozen

c. Shirin didn’t want to go to school on the first day since .

i. she was illii. it was raining and she was sadiii. she missed her old school and friendsiv. she didn’t know anyone and felt that everyone would stare

at herd. Shirin’s new friend asked her if she wanted to have some

.i. milkshakeii. milkiii. baklavaiv. sandwiches

e. Shirin told the group of children .i. about the things she had seen in Londonii. how much she’d enjoyed her visits to the zoo and the cinemaiii. about riding the giant wheel on the bank of the River Thamesiv. about her life in Tehran

2. What did Shirin’s mother say to reassure her before she left for London?

3. In your own words, describe the London Shirin dreamed about on the flight.

4. Why did Shirin think her aunty was in disguise when in London?5. It was during lunch break, as she was sitting in the corner of the

playground planning her big escape back to Tehran, that a young boy approached little Shirin.a. Why was Shirin planning her ‘big escape’?b. Who was the ‘young boy’?c. What happened after they met?

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6. What made Shirin feel that Stephen was a strong person? Do you agree with her opinion? Support your answer with references to the text.

7. What was the important thing that Shirin learnt from her new friend?

8. Describe, in brief, what you understand from the phrase ‘the beauty of difference’ in the context of the story.

9. Imagine you are Stephen. Write a diary entry describing how you have made a new friend at school, and how excited you are to find out more about her and her culture.

10. Do you see any changes in Shirin’s character from the time she arrived in London till after her first day in school? Write a brief comparison with references to the text.

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Look around and you can see interesting people with queer habits. Do you know anyone like that? Write down what makes that person interesting. Now read a nonsensical poem where the crazy manager creates bedlam because his moustache has been stolen.

Head Officer Chief Babu was a very peaceful man—And then he turned mental—who knew how it began?He sat drowsing1 in his chair, smiling a happy smileWhen suddenly, it seemed, something drove him wild.

He leapt up and flung2 his arms about, his eyes red as brick,He shouted out, ‘I’m lost, I’m lost, do save me quick!’Some ran for a doctor, some yelled ‘Police!’ with all their might,Some advised restraint3: ‘Careful, he could bite!’

Everyone was rushing frantic4, leaving letters untyped—Then the Babu cried, ‘Oh help, my moustache has been swiped5.’Lost his moustache? Incredible! How could it be? But his handlebars6 were just the same, plain for all to see.

They tried to explain things, held a mirror to his face: His whiskers weren’t stolen, that couldn’t be the case. But angry as fire, an eggplant in hot oil, he sputtered7 and shook:‘I don’t believe a single man, I know each of you crooks8.

Moustache Thievery

1drowsing: almost sleeping | 2flung: moved a part of the body suddenly, with great force | 3restraint: (to be) calm and under control | 4 frantic: wild with excitement | 5swiped: stolen | 6handlebars: a style of moustache so named for its similarity to the handlebars of a bicycle | 7sputtered: spoke quickly and with difficulty, making soft spitting sounds, due to anger or anxiety | 8crook: dishonest person

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Appreciation

1. He sat drowsing in his chair, smiling a happy smileWhen suddenly, it seemed, something drove him wild.a. Who is being referred to as ‘he’ in the above lines?

Dirty and ragged9, an over-used broom—an obvious pretender!—‘This kind of moustache was kept by Shyambabu’s milk vendor.I’ll shoot the whole lot! If you say this moustache is mine.’And right away he proclaimed for all a rather hefty10 fine.

Getting hotter by the minute, he wrote and underlined in red:‘Give anyone an inch of rope, they’ll climb up on your head.These monkeys at the office, with brains of dung and hay—Where my perfect moustache went, not one of them can say.

I should grab their whiskers and dance them up and downOr shave their sorry heads with a spade upon their crown.They claim the moustache is mine—as though it’s something you can own!The moustache owns the man, my friend—that’s how we all are known.’

Sukumar ray

(Translated by Prasenjit Gupta)

9ragged: (here) uneven and untidy | 10hefty: big and heavy

Sukumar Ray (1887–1923) was born in Calcutta to a progressive literary family. Ray

started writing at an early age, and wrote humorous plays and verses to entertain

his siblings. He is considered to be one of the greatest children’s writers in Bengali,

and his most popular works include Aboltabol (Gibberish), Pagla Dashu (Crazy

Dashu), HaJaBaRaLa (Mumbo-Jumbo) and Lakkhaner Shoktishel (The Weapon of Lakkhan). The finest writer of nonsense literature in Bengali, his signature style he

mingles the familiar with the fantastic. For his remarkable work in this genre, he is

often compared to Lewis Carroll. This poem is a translation of ‘Gonf Churi’ from

the anthology Aboltabol.

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b. Does he work diligently in the office?c. What drives him wild?

2. Some ran for a doctor, some yelled ‘Police!’ with all their might, Some advised restraint: ‘Careful, he could bite!’a. Why do some people call the doctor while others call

the police?b. Why do some advise restraint?c. What kind of relationship did the Chief Babu have with his

colleagues?3. Getting hotter by the minute, he wrote and underlined in red:

‘Give anyone an inch of rope, they’ll climb up on your head.a. Why did the Chief Babu get ‘hotter by the minute’?b. What does the second line mean? Explain in your own words.c. Do you agree with the Chief Babu that his colleagues try to ‘climb

up on his head’?4. … I’ll shoot the whole lot!

a. Who did the Chief Babu threaten to shoot?b. Why did he want to shoot them?c. What did he do ultimately?

5. Based on your reading of the poem, write a brief character sketch of the Chief Babu.

6. The poet uses some interesting comparisons to describe the Chief Babu and his feelings. Find three such comparisons from the poem and explain their usage in your own words.

7. At the end of the poem, the Chief Babu declares ‘the moustache owns the man … that’s how we all are known’. Do you agree with his opinion? Give reasons for your answer.

8. Nonsense literature is a humorous form that combines realistic elements with imaginary or nonsensical ones. It was developed and made popular by Edward Lear who wrote lines such as:There was an Old Man with a gong,Who bumped at it all day long;

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But they called out, ‘O law!You’re a horrid old bore!’So they smashed that Old Man with a gong.Find examples from ‘Moustache Thievery’ that introduce elements of nonsense in it.

9. Imagine you are the Chief Babu. Write a short poem of 6–8 lines describing the day’s events and your feelings towards your colleagues. The language and tone should match that used by the Chief Babu in `Moustache Thievery’.

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We often draw our own conclusions without stopping to consider facts. discuss an incident when you misunderstood someone because you did not make an effort to get to know that person. How did you feel when you learned the truth?

Read this short story where the owners of a guest house misjudge a new guest until he proves to be the silver lining in their cloud of unhappiness.

It is difficult to assess the range and quality of human emotions. Those with smiling, evergreen faces may have worm-like griefs gnawing1 at their existence, and someone who seems quite dull and indifferent may be blissfully happy. Life can be a strange, humdrum2 affair, where even the few moments of peace that can be snatched should be gratefully acknowledged.

I recently had the very pleasant experience of staying at a private Guest House at a hill resort. A friend of mine had earlier warmly recommended the place to me, claiming for it all the facilities which most of these boarding houses advertise but generally lack. It was centrally situated—close to the post office, close to the market, close to the bus stand—yet isolated and away from the common din3. There were pleasant views to be had from there, it had excellent cuisine4, and was well looked after by one of the most charming hostesses one could find anywhere.

I discovered that the place exactly corresponded to the details described. But it was the hostess, particularly, and her husband and their little daughter who really proved to be the central attraction for me.

3. The Silver Lining

1gnawing: (here) thoughts or ideas that are constantly worrying or distressing | 2humdrum: routine; lacking excitement or variety | 3din: loud, unpleasant and prolonged noise | 4cuisine: option of food served

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She blushed and again shook her head. After a second, she ran out. I thought I saw tears in her eyes.

I suddenly became aware of an awkward pause in the room and, turning to look at the Bhandaris, discovered that both of them were frowning, a pained look on their faces. Mr Bhandari squeezed his wife’s arm and said apologetically, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Dhanda. You see, our daughter can neither hear nor speak. That’s why she didn’t come to you.’

I gasped and muttered something about being sorry. I felt confused and did not know what more to say—for I was feeling ashamed at my forwardness with a child who was obviously not in a position to respond to my overtures8 of friendship. I vaguely felt I had wronged9 her and her parents.

It did not take me long to see that this was a situation the poor parents had to put up with almost every day. For, every day, one or two guests left and new ones came along. And, at the very first meeting, or soon afterwards, they would run into the child and fascinated by her charm and beauty, would want to talk or play with her. And every time, it would result in the child silently smiling, sighing and withdrawing, leaving looks of agony on the faces of her parents. Often, it would lead to lengthy explanations as to how the calamity10 had come about, for many of the inquisitive visitors liked to know if it was from birth, or the result of an accident; whether anyone else in the family suffered from a similar affliction11; and if any treatment was being undertaken.

The queries were answered by the parents haltingly12 and with obvious anguish13. What struck me as the worst part of the situation was that the girl would often be gravely14 looking on, her eyes aghast15 with horror and self-pity, aware that she was the topic of discussion. She had no other pastime than to run around the house, or play with the attendants.

5swarthy: having a dark complexion | 6settee: a long comfortable seat with a back and arms that two or more people can sit on | 7beckoned: moved one’s hand or head in a way that asks someone to come nearer

The lady belonged to the south, and had married a north Indian. She was dark, with a very pleasant face and was all smiles and kindness. The husband was a huge, swarthy5 man, with large, bony limbs, and extremely polite.

Mrs Bhandari, the landlady, took me in hand the moment I arrived. She looked after my luggage, gave instructions regarding my room, had a cup of delicious coffee improvised in no time, then put me at ease by talking to me informally about myself and my visit. I was completely won over by the family. It seemed as if I had known them for years.

While thus chatting with the two of them, I became aware of the slightly built girl hiding behind the settee6. She must have been about eight, and was sweet and charming like her mother. Her hair was closely cropped, with a straight fringe across the forehead. She was in jeans and, in her half-sleeved loose jersey and high boots, looked like a miniature jungle queen. But she was behaving a bit too timidly for one, and seemed to be avoiding me.

I couldn’t help smiling when I saw that she was staring at me. I said, ‘What’s your name?’ and beckoned7 to her.

The girl became self- conscious immediately, shook her head and stood where she was.

I called once more, ‘Hello! Come here, my dear.’

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She blushed and again shook her head. After a second, she ran out. I thought I saw tears in her eyes.

I suddenly became aware of an awkward pause in the room and, turning to look at the Bhandaris, discovered that both of them were frowning, a pained look on their faces. Mr Bhandari squeezed his wife’s arm and said apologetically, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Dhanda. You see, our daughter can neither hear nor speak. That’s why she didn’t come to you.’

I gasped and muttered something about being sorry. I felt confused and did not know what more to say—for I was feeling ashamed at my forwardness with a child who was obviously not in a position to respond to my overtures8 of friendship. I vaguely felt I had wronged9 her and her parents.

It did not take me long to see that this was a situation the poor parents had to put up with almost every day. For, every day, one or two guests left and new ones came along. And, at the very first meeting, or soon afterwards, they would run into the child and fascinated by her charm and beauty, would want to talk or play with her. And every time, it would result in the child silently smiling, sighing and withdrawing, leaving looks of agony on the faces of her parents. Often, it would lead to lengthy explanations as to how the calamity10 had come about, for many of the inquisitive visitors liked to know if it was from birth, or the result of an accident; whether anyone else in the family suffered from a similar affliction11; and if any treatment was being undertaken.

The queries were answered by the parents haltingly12 and with obvious anguish13. What struck me as the worst part of the situation was that the girl would often be gravely14 looking on, her eyes aghast15 with horror and self-pity, aware that she was the topic of discussion. She had no other pastime than to run around the house, or play with the attendants.

5swarthy: having a dark complexion | 6settee: a long comfortable seat with a back and arms that two or more people can sit on | 7beckoned: moved one’s hand or head in a way that asks someone to come nearer

8overtures: something that is offered or suggested with the hope that it will start a relationship 9wronged: hurt or offended | 10calamity: event that causes great damage to people’s lives | 11affliction: disorder or disease | 12haltingly: starting and stopping often when one is uncertain or not confident | 13anguish: severe mental suffering | 14gravely: serious in manner | 15aghast: filled with dread or shock

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She did not go to school as there were none there to cater to her needs. They had tried to teach her at home, but without success. She could only hear faintly, when one shouted close to her ears; and she could speak nothing except utter cries of happiness and sorrow; or crudely say such words as ‘ma-ma’ or ‘unc-ll’. All her other communications were confined to gestures16 with her hands, which brought a fleeting sensation of torture to her whole being when one failed to follow what she was saying.

To save the child from such repeated humiliation17, one day I suggested something to the Bhandaris, which they, after some trepidation18, agreed to try. We decided to have bits of paper typed, and to hand over one of these chits, duly sealed in a cover, to every new visitor as soon as he entered the Guest House. The text of the chit ran: ‘Our daughter can neither hear nor speak. You may hurt her by trying to be friendly too soon, as she can neither understand nor reply to your kind words. You are requested to please give her time to approach you and make your acquaintance19. Thank you.’

A line to the effect that they might be spared questions about her was removed by Mrs Bhandari on the plea that it would not be compatible20 with her spirit of hospitality. As it was, she felt the note was not a very kind one to be given to people who were going to make her Guest House their temporary home. But she gave consent21 to save the girl the untold misery and helplessness she experienced every time a stranger approached her.

16gestures: movements of parts of the body, especially a hand or the head, to express an idea or meaning | 17humiliation: feeling ashamed or stupid | 18trepidation: a feeling of fear or anxiety about something that may happen | 19make your acquaintance: meet somebody for the first time and get to know them | 20compatible: exist together without causing problems | 21gave consent: agreed

??

Do you think a differently abled child should be treated with dignity and respect?

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The ploy22 worked well, even beyond our expectations. Though a few sympathetic questions were still put to the parents, the poor child was spared. Later, the girl herself slowly became intimate with many of the guests. The Bhandaris felt relieved, and thought that at least one of their problems had been temporarily solved.

Then they had a strange visitor one day.

It was late in the afternoon and I was talking to the landlord about the packed lunch that I would need the next day—I was planning a short excursion, by myself, to a group of caves nearby. The landlord was in a hurry, arranging things for a new guest who had booked a room for the season and was supposed to be moving in any moment—arriving by the Mail train.

And sure enough, soon a young man came in, a porter carrying his luggage. He was barely twenty-five, clad in an ill-fitting tweed suit, with drooping shoulders and wide trouser-bottoms. Because of the journey, he looked untidy, his hair, his necktie, his shoes all unkempt and needing attention. But he had a cheerful face and jet-black eyes sparkling with vitality23.

Mr Bhandari stepped forward and asked, ‘Mr David, I presume?’

The young man looked closely at his face, smiled and nodded.

‘Room No.18, please. Everything is ready.’

The young man again looked at him, smiled and nodded. He paid the porter, who bowed low—for he was not asked to return the change—and disappeared. The

22 ploy: trick | 23vitality: energy and enthusiasm

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young man gave me a brief, friendly look and sat before a huge book, which the landlord had pushed before him, making the necessary entries about himself and his intended stay.

At this time, he discovered the sealed envelope containing the typed chit lying on the table, addressed to him by name. He took the cover and tore it open. This coincided with the entry of the landlady into the room. She hurriedly asked her husband if this was the new guest and, having received confirmation, came forward and shook hands with the young man.

‘Did you have a nice journey, Mr David?’ she asked, with her sweet smile.

The young man smiled and nodded nonchalantly24, as if to say, ‘Well, neither very pleasant nor very unpleasant.’

‘Would you like to have a hot bath immediately or tea first?’

The young man pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders, obviously implying that one would be as good as the other and that he had no preferences.

Both the landlord and the landlady were by now slightly disconcerted25 by what they inferred26 to be their guest’s pride and arrogance, since he had not even deigned27 to reply adequately to their polite enquiries.

The young man, meanwhile, took out the typed chit and started reading it. As soon as he had gone through it, he looked around, astonished. The little girl, Promodni, was at that moment playing in the courtyard. We could see her sitting near the flower beds. The young man looked at all of us with a smile and darted out28 towards her.

‘Now this is very strange!’ Mrs Bhandari cried out in protest. ‘How rude he is!’

‘He shouldn’t have ignored our request like this,’ the landlord put in, more mildly.

24nonchalantly: appearing unconcerned, calm, and relaxed | 25disconcerted: confused and unsettled | 26inferred: decided something on the basis of information available | 27deigned: do something that one considers to be beneath one’s dignity | 28darted out: rushed out

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I, too, was a bit upset. For it was obvious that our effort to save Promodni embarrassment from strangers was about to fail in this instance.

After a few moments, we all walked out to the verandah, and I was apprehensive29 of that impending30 look of anguish on the faces of the parents and the child.

The scene that confronted us was something we least expected to see.

The strange young man was reclining on the grassy ground while Promodni was sitting near him. He was showing her the flowers.

And suddenly, like the sound of a gun exploding, the shrill laughter of Promodni pierced the air.

The parents looked at each other with wonder and amazement.

‘Our daughter has not laughed like this in years!’ Mrs Bhandari said.

Curious, we watched the two of them who were now walking towards us hand-in-hand. Promodni ran to her mother, danced about her with joy saying ‘Ma-ma! Ma-ma!’ and wildly pointed at the young man.

It was Mr David who came to our rescue.

We soon realized that he, too, had the same condition!

His strange, ambiguous31 silences, his sudden interest in the girl on reading the note—all became

29apprehensive: anxious or fearful that something bad or unpleasant might happen | 30impending: something that is about to happen | 31ambiguous: not clear or decided

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Chaman Nahal (1927–2013), also known as Chaman Nahal Azadi, was born in

Sialkot (now in Pakistan). He was born in a period when India was reeling under

the impact of colonialism and struggling for independence. He won the Sahitya

Akademi award for his novel, Azadi, which depicts the trauma of Partition that

accompanied the independence of India in 1947. Through his works, he captured

the essence of middle-class life in India.

instantly clear to us. It took us little time to digest the news. And then, both parents broke into incoherent32 statements of profuse33 apologies that they had not noticed it earlier. Presuming34 the predicament35 of the man they were talking to, they spoke in half-sentences and tried to convey the rest through gestures. But the young man had not the slightest difficulty in understanding them: he appeared to read their lips. He gracefully acknowledged their warmth and either nodded or shook his head in reply. For more complicated and lengthy answers, he used pen and paper.

The next day, Mrs Bhandari was full of news. She talked as she had never talked before. She mentioned the stranger and his plans for the betterment of Promodni that he had outlined to her and her husband. There were schools that she could attend, he had told them, though they were beyond most people’s means. He had himself been educated in one such institution abroad; and had now returned to India to render the same useful service to others, by starting a school here. She almost broke down with gratitude when she said that he had agreed to accept Promodni as his first pupil. He had emphatically36 stated that the girl could, in due course of time, live as normal a life as anyone else.

Mrs Bhandari laughed like a carefree young girl. She gave us an extra helping of jam and butter and honey at the table. She looked like the happiest woman in the world.

CHaman naHal

32incoherent: expressed in a jumbled or confusing way; unclear | 33profuse: abundant | 34presuming: assuming or supposing | 35predicament: a difficult, unpleasant or embarrassing situation | 36emphatically: without doubt; clearly

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Appreciation

1. Say whether the following statements are true (T) or false (F).a. The narrator enjoyed his stay at the Guest House, chiefly due

to its location and the view it offered. b. Promodni was homeschooled. c. The Bhandaris encouraged visitors to ask them questions. d. The Bhandaris were angry when the narrator tried to make

friends with Promodni. e. The idea was to use chits to inform visitors of Promodni’s

condition, to spare her the embarrassment. 2. Do you think the Bhandaris were only interested in making money

from the Guest House? Support your answer with references to the text.

3. For I was feeling ashamed at my forwardness with a child who was obviously not in a position to respond to my overtures of friendship. I vaguely felt I had wronged her and her parents.a. What had the narrator done that made him feel ashamed? b. Do you think the narrator had actually committed a mistake?c. Why do you think the narrator felt he had wronged ‘her parents’?

4. The ploy worked well, even beyond our expectations. Though a few sympathetic questions were still put to the parents, the poor child was spared.a. What was the ‘ploy’?b. What does ‘it worked well, even beyond our expectations’ mean?c. Do you think the ploy was actually successful? Give reasons for

your answer.5. Curious, we watched the two of them, who were now walking

towards us hand-in-hand. Promodni ran to her mother, danced about her with joy …a. Who do ‘we’ and ‘them’ refer to in these lines? b. What made them feel ‘curious’?c. Why do you think Promodini danced about her mother with joy?

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6. Why did Mr David not face any difficulty in understanding the Bhandaris?

7. ‘Appearances can be deceptive.’ Explain this statement with reference to Mr David.

8. Briefly describe the theme of the story in your own words. 9. Inclusive education is a system where students with special needs

may learn side by side with other people of the same age. This helps us understand and appreciate each other better. Write a brief speech on the topic: ‘the need for special education in our country’.

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4. The Man in Asbestos

The world has changed rapidly in the last century, owing to developments in science and technology. Can you predict what changes will take place in the next hundred years?

Read this story about a man’s brief trip to the future, and the surprises he finds there.

I always had been, I still am, a passionate student of social problems. The world of today with its roaring machinery, the unceasing toil of its working classes, its strife1, its poverty, its war, and its cruelty appals2 me as I look at it. I love to think of the time that must come some day when man will have conquered nature, and the toil-worn3 human race enter upon an era of peace.

I loved to think of it, and I longed to see it.  What I wanted to do was to fall asleep after the customary fashion, for two or three hundred years at least, and wake and find myself in the marvel world of the future. I made my preparations for the sleep. 

I could feel my senses leaving me. In the room across the hall there was a man singing. His voice, that had been loud, came fainter and fainter through the transom4. I fell into a sleep, the deep immeasurable sleep in which the very existence of the outer world was hushed. Dimly, I could feel the days go past, then the years, and then the long passage of the centuries. Then, not as it were gradually, but quite suddenly, I woke up,

1strife: struggle | 2appal: greatly dismay or horrify | 3toil-worn: exhausted by punishing physical labour | 4transom: horizontal crosspiece over a door, or between a door and a window above it

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sat up and looked about me. I found myself lying, or rather sitting up, on a broad couch. I was in a great room, dim, gloomy and dilapidated in its general appearance, and apparently, from its glass cases and the stuffed figures that they contained, some kind of museum. 

Beside me sat a man. His face was hairless, but neither old nor young. He wore clothes that looked like the grey ashes of paper that had burned and kept its shape. He was looking at me quietly, but with no particular surprise or interest. 

‘Quick,’ I said, eager to begin, ‘where am I? Who are you? What year is this; is it the year 3000, or what is it?’ 

‘Really,’ he said, ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. I should think it must be at least that, within a hundred years or so; but nobody has kept track of them for so long, it’s hard to say.’ 

‘Don’t you keep track of them any more?’ I gasped. 

‘We used to,’ said the man. ‘I myself can remember that a century or two ago there were still a number of people who used to try to keep track of the year, but it died out along with so many other faddish5 things of that kind. Why,’ he continued, showing for the first time a sort of animation in his talk, ‘what was the use of it? You see, after we eliminated death—’ 

‘Eliminated death!’ I cried, sitting upright. ‘Good God!’ 

‘Ah,’ he said, ‘never heard that expression before. But I was saying that after we had eliminated Death, and Food, and Change, we had practically got rid of Events, and—’ 

6faddish: intensely fashionable for a short time

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7asbestos: soft, grey mineral that does not burn | 8epoch: a particular period of time in a person’s life | 9riveted: captivated; incapable of movement

‘Stop!’ I said, my brain reeling. ‘Tell me one thing at a time. What are those clothes made of?’ 

‘Asbestos7,’ answered the man. ‘They last hundreds of years. We have one suit each, and there are

billions of them piled up, if anybody wants a new one.’ 

‘Thank you,’ I answered. ‘Now tell me where I am?’ 

‘You are in a museum. The figures in the cases are specimens like yourself. But here,’ he said, ‘if you want really to find out about what is evidently a new epoch8 to you, get off your platform and come out on Broadway and sit on a bench.’ 

I got down.  As we passed through the dim and dust-

covered buildings I looked curiously at the figures in the

cases. I had no time to question the man further as we had come out

upon the street, and I stood riveted9 in astonishment. 

Broadway! Was it possible? The change was absolutely appalling! In place of the roaring thoroughfare that I had known, this silent, moss-grown desolation. Great buildings fallen into ruin through the sheer stress of centuries of wind and weather, the sides of them coated over

38

with a growth of fungus and moss! The place was soundless. Not a vehicle moved. There were no wires overhead—no sound of life or movement except, here and there, there passed slowly to and fro human figures dressed in the same asbestos clothes as my acquaintance, with the same hairless faces, and the same look of infinite age upon them. 

There were little benches placed here and there on the street. We sat down. 

‘Improved, isn’t it,’ said the Man in Asbestos, ‘since the days when you remember it?’ 

He seemed to speak quite proudly. 

I gasped out a question. 

‘Where are the street cars and the motors?’ 

‘Oh, done away with long ago,’ he said; ‘How awful they must have been. The noise of them!’ And his asbestos clothes rustled with a shudder. 

‘But how do you get about?’ 

‘We don’t,’ he answered. ‘Why should we? It’s just the same being here as being anywhere else.’ He looked at me with an infinity of dreariness in his face. 

‘But how do you get back and forwards to your work?’ 

‘Work!’ he said. ‘There isn’t any work. It’s finished. The last of it was all done centuries ago.’ 

‘What do you mean by saying that there is no work?’ 

‘Why,’ answered my strange acquaintance, ‘it died out of itself. In fact, just as soon as mankind turned its energy to decreasing its needs

??

Do you think a world where no one has to do any work would be a pleasant place to live in?

39

instead of increasing its desires, the whole thing was easy. Chemical Food came first. Heavens! The simplicity of it. After the invention of Chemical Food we piled up enough in the emporiums in a year to last for centuries.

Agriculture went overboard. Eating and all that goes with it, domestic labour, housework—all ended. Nowadays one takes a concentrated pill every year or so, that’s all. The whole digestive apparatus, as you knew it, was a clumsy thing that had been bloated up like a set of bagpipes10 through the evolution of its use!’ 

I could not forbear11 to interrupt. ‘Have you and these people,’ I said, ‘no stomach—no apparatus?’ 

‘Of course we have,’ he answered, ‘but we use it to some purpose. Mine is largely filled with my education. I’ll explain that later.’ He went on, ‘Then we killed, or practically killed, the changes of climate. I don’t think that in your day you properly understood how much of your work was due to the shifts of what you called the weather. It meant the need of all kinds of special clothes and houses and shelters, a wilderness12 of work. How dreadful it must have been in your day—wind and storms, great wet masses—what did you call them?—clouds—flying through the air, the ocean full of salt, was it not?—tossed and torn by the wind, snow thrown all over everything, hail, rain—how awful!’ 

‘Sometimes,’ I said, ‘it was very beautiful. But how did you alter it?’ 

‘Killed the weather!’ answered the Man in Asbestos. ‘Simple as anything—turned its forces loose one against the other, altered the composition of the sea so that the top became all more or less gelatinous13. I really can’t explain it, as it is an operation that I never took at school, but it made the sky grey, and the weather all the same.’ 

10bagpipes: wind musical instrument from Scotland composed of a bag and pipes | 11forbear: (here) stop oneself from saying something one wants to | 12wilderness: (here) confused mass or collection | 13gelatinous: having a jelly-like consistency

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He paused a moment. I began to realize something of the course of evolution that had happened. 

‘So,’ I said, ‘the conquest14 of nature meant that presently there was no more work to do?’ 

‘Exactly,’ he said, ‘nothing left.’ 

‘Food enough for all?’ 

‘Too much,’ he answered. 

‘Houses and clothes?’ 

‘All you like,’ said the Man in Asbestos, waving his hand. ‘There they are. Go out and take them. Of course, they’re falling down—slowly, very slowly. But they’ll last for centuries yet, nobody need bother.’ 

Then I realized, I think for the first time, just what work had meant in the old life, and how much of the texture15 of life itself had been bound up in the keen16 effort of it. 

Presently, my eyes looked upward: dangling17 at the top of a moss-grown building I saw what seemed to be the remains of telephone wires. 

‘What became of all that, I said, ‘the telegraph and the telephone and all the systems of communication?’ 

’Ah,’ said the Man in Asbestos, ‘that was what a telephone meant, was it? I knew that it had been suppressed centuries ago. Just what was it for?’ 

‘Why,’ I said with enthusiasm, ‘by means of the telephone we could talk to anybody, call up anybody and talk at any distance.’ 

‘And anybody could call you up at any time and talk?’ said the Man in Asbestos, with something like horror. ‘How awful! What a dreadful age yours was, to be sure. No, the telephone and all the rest of it, all the transportation and intercommunication18 was cut out and forbidden.

14conquest: taking control of something by force | 15texture: essential quality of something | 16keen: enthusiastic | 17dangling: hanging | 18intercommunication: communication between people or groups

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There was no sense in it. Take the railroad19, what good was that? It brought into every town a lot of people from every other town. Who wanted them? Nobody. When work stopped and commerce ended, and food was needless, and the weather killed, it was foolish to move about. So it was all terminated20. Anyway,’ he said, with a quick look of apprehension and a change in his voice, ‘it was dangerous!’ 

‘So!’ I said. ‘Dangerous! You still have danger?’ 

‘Why, yes,’ he said, ‘there’s always the danger of getting broken.’ 

‘What do you mean? I asked. 

‘Why,’ said the Man in Asbestos, ‘I suppose it’s what you would call being dead. Of course, in one sense there’s been no death for centuries past; we cut that out. Disease and death were simply a matter of germs. We found them one by one. I think that even in your day you had found one or two of the easier, bigger ones?’ 

I nodded. 

‘Well, we hunted them down one by one and destroyed them. Strange that it never occurred to any of you that Old Age was only a germ! It turned out to be quite a simple one, but it was so distributed in its action that you never even thought of it.’

‘And you mean to say,’ I ejaculated21 in amazement, looking at the Man in Asbestos, ‘that nowadays you live for ever?’ 

‘Yes,’ he continued, ‘we live for ever, unless, of course, we get broken. That happens sometimes. I mean that we may fall over a high place or bump on something, and snap ourselves. You see, we’re just a little brittle22 still—some remnant 23, I suppose, of the Old Age germ—and we had to be careful, till we took steps to cut out all accidents. We forbid all street cars, street traffic, aeroplanes and so on. The risks of your time,’ he said, with a shiver of his asbestos clothes, ‘must have been awful.’ 

19railroad: railways | 20terminated: brought to an end | 21ejaculated: said something quickly and suddenly | 22brittle: hard but likely to break easily | 23remnant: small part or quantity that is left over

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‘They were,’ I answered, with a new kind of pride in my generation that I had never felt before, ‘but we thought it part of the duty of brave people to—’ 

‘Yes, yes,’ said the Man in Asbestos impatiently, ‘please don’t get excited. I know what you mean. It was quite irrational24.’ 

We sat silent for a long time. I looked about me at the crumbling buildings, the monotone25, unchanging sky and the dreary, empty street. Here, then, was the fruit of the Conquest, here was the elimination of work, the end of hunger and of cold, the cessation26 of the hard struggle, the downfall of change and death—nay, the very millennium27 of happiness. And yet, somehow, there seemed something wrong with it all.

The Man in Asbestos continued, ‘Listen, you seem to have been something of a social reformer, and yet you don’t understand the new life at all. You don’t understand how completely all our burdens have disappeared. Look at it this way. How used your people to spend all the early part of their lives?’ 

‘Why,’ I said, ‘our first fifteen years or so were spent in getting education.’

‘Exactly,’ he answered; ‘now notice how we improved on all that. Education in our day is done by surgery, the simple system of opening the side of the skull and engrafting28 into it a piece of prepared brain. An operation of a few minutes would suffice29 to let in poetry or foreign languages or history or anything else that one cared to have. Here, for instance,’ he added, pushing back the hair at the side of his head and

24irrational: not logical or reasonable | 25monotone: without any change in colour | 26cessation: stopping something completely | 27millenium: a period of 1000 years | 28engrafting: transplanting living tissue from one part of the body to another | 29suffice: (be) enough

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showing a scar beneath it, ‘is the mark where I had my spherical trigonometry30 let in. That was, I admit, rather painful, but other things, such as English poetry or history, can be inserted absolutely without the least suffering. When I think of your painful, barbarous31 methods of education through the ear, I shudder at it. Oddly enough, we have found lately that for a great many things there is no need to use the head. We lodge them—things like philosophy and metaphysics32 and so on—in what used to be the digestive apparatus. They fill it admirably.’ 

‘Tell me,’ I said, ‘are there no women now? Are they gone too?’ 

‘Oh, no,’ answered the Man in Asbestos, ‘they’re here just the same. Some of those are women. Only, you see, everything has been changed now. It all came as part of their great revolt, their desire to be like the men. Had that begun in your time?’ 

‘Only a little.’ I answered; ‘They were beginning to ask for votes and equality.’

‘That’s it,’ said my acquaintance, ‘I couldn’t think of the word. Your women, I believe, were something awful, were they not? Covered with feathers and skins and dazzling colours made of dead things all over them? And they laughed, did they not, and had foolish teeth, and at any moment they could inveigle33 you into one of those contracts34! Ugh!’

He shuddered.

‘Asbestos,’ I said (I knew no other name to call him), as I turned on him in wrath, ‘Asbestos, do you think that those jelly-bag Equalities out on the street there, with their ash-barrel suits, can be compared for one moment with our unredeemed35, unreformed, heaven-created, hobble-skirted36 women of the twentieth century?’

30spherical trigonometry: branch of trigonometry that deals with the measurement of the angles and sides of spherical triangles | 31barbarous: extremely brutal | 32metaphysics: abstract branches of philosophy | 33inveigle: persuade (someone) to do something by means of deception or flattery | 34contracts: (here) marriage | 35unredeemed: without being saved from sins | 36hobble-skirted: wearing a skirt that is narrow at the bottom, forcing the wearer to walk with small steps

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Then, suddenly, another thought flashed into my mind— ‘The children,’ I said, ‘where are the children? Are there any?’ 

‘Children,’ he said, ‘no! I have never heard of there being any such things for at least a century. Horrible little hobgoblins37 they must have been! Great big faces, and cried constantly! And grew, did they not? Like funguses! I believe they were longer each year than they had been the last, and—’ 

I rose. 

‘Asbestos!’ I said, ‘this, then, is your coming Civilization, your millennium. This dull, dead thing, with the work and the burden gone out of life, and with them all the joy and sweetness of it. For the old struggle—mere stagnation38, and in place of danger and death, the dull monotony of security and the horror of an unending decay! Give me back,’ I cried, and I flung wide my arms to the dull air, ‘the old life of danger and stress, with its hard toil and its bitter chances, and its heartbreaks. I see its value! I know its worth! Give me no rest,’ I cried aloud—

***

‘Yes, but give a rest to the rest of the corridor!’ cried an angered voice that broke in upon my exultation39. Suddenly my sleep had gone. 

I was back again in the room of my hotel, with the hum of the wicked, busy old world all about me, and loud in my ears the voice of the indignant man across the corridor. 

‘Quit your blatting40, you infernal41 blatherskite42,’ he was calling. ‘Come down to earth.’ 

I came.

(Abridged from the original story) StepHen leaCOCk

37hobgoblins: small ugly creatures that like to trouble or trick people | 38stagnation: stop developing or making progress | 39exultation: great pride or happiness due to something exciting | 40blatting: making a loud or raucous noise | 41infernal: extremely annoying | 42blatherskite: person given to empty talk

45

Stephen Leacock (1869–1944) was a Canadian author, political scientist and teacher.

Leacock was a professor who started writing humorous stories and reports to

supplement his regular income. His first collection, Literary Lapses, published in

1910, was a collection of essays that had earlier been published in newspapers and

magazines. This was followed by Nonsense Novels (1911) and Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town (1912). His brand of humour found popularity not just in Canada,

but in Britain and the United States as well. The ‘Stephen Leacock Medal for

Humour’ has been awarded since 1947 to the best humorous book by a Canadian

author. ‘The Man in Asbestos’ was first published as a part of Nonsense Novels.

Appreciation

1. Choose the correct answers.a. The narrator says that he had always been and still is a

passionate student of the subject that deals with the study of .i. money matters ii. the human mindiii. time gone by iv. human societies

b. The man whom the narrator met was .i. young, hairless, sad and wore clothes made of paperii. ageless, emotionless and wore asbestos clothes iii. old, hairy and wore asbestos clothesiv. ageless, hairy, wore a dress of burnt paper and looked at him

silentlyc. The Man in Asbestos said that was cut out

and forbidden.i. weather and seasonsii. disease and deathiii. transportation and intercommunicationiv. hunger and work

d. The Man in Asbestos stored philosophy and in what used to be his digestive apparatus.

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i. metaphysics ii. languagesiii. spherical trigonometry iv. history

e. The Man in Asbestos felt the older method of education was .

i. effective ii. painfuliii. barbarous iv. unsuccessful

2. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘never heard that expression before. But I was saying that after we had eliminated Death, and Food, and Change, we had practically got rid of Events, and—’ a. Who is the speaker and who is being addressed?b. What is the ‘expression’ that is being referred to here?c. Why do you think the words Death, Food, Change and Events

begin with capital letters?3. Why do you think the narrator was ‘astonished’ to see the Broadway

of the future?4. ‘Oh, done away with long ago,’ he said; ‘How awful they must have

been. The noise of them!’ And his asbestos clothes rustled with a shudder. a. What does ‘they’ and ‘them’ refer to? b. Why were they ‘done away with’?c. Explain in your own words what made the speaker shudder.

5. Describe how the education system was different in the future. 6. ‘That’s it,’ said my acquaintance. ‘I couldn’t think of the word. Your

women, I believe, were something awful, were they not?’a. What is ‘the word’ that is being referred to in the above lines?b. Why did the speaker think women were ‘something awful’?c. How did the narrator react to the speaker’s opinion of women?

7. How different were the women in the world of Asbestos?8. Do you think the narrator liked the future world? Give reasons for

your answer. 9. A satire is a literary form where human folly or practices are ridiculed

or criticized. Do you think ‘The Man in Asbestos’ is an example of satire? What are the ideas or practices that the writer is criticizing in this story?

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1wandered: walked slowly around or to a place, often without any particular sense of purpose or direction | 2vales: valleys | 3host: (here) large number | 4fluttering: a quick, light movement | 5tossing: moving one’s head this way or that | 6sprightly: full of life and energy | 7glee: feeling of happiness | 8gay: happy and full of fun | 9jocund: cheerful | 10gazed: looked steadily at something for a long time

daffodils

Nature can infl uence us in different ways and set our imagination free. This poem describes how a fi eld of daffodils inspired the poet. Form pairs and discuss when and how you have been inspired by nature.

I wandered1 lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales2 and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd, A host3, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering4 and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way,They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing5 their heads in sprightly6 dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee7:A poet could not but be gay8, In such a jocund9 company:I gazed10—and gazed—but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:

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For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive11 mood,They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.

William WOrdSWOrtH

William Wordsworth (1770–1850) was an English poet who belonged to the

Romantic period in English literature. While at college, he witnessed the French

Revolution, which influenced his poetic and political ideas, and aroused his

sympathy for the life of the ‘common man’. His early anthologies include An Evening Walk and Descriptive Sketches. His most famous work is The Prelude (1850), an autobiographical poem composed in blank verse. It was published three

months after his death and is considered to be one of the greatest examples of

English Romanticism. The relationship between nature and man is one of the

main themes in his poetry.

Appreciation

1. I wandered lonely as a cloudThat fl oats on high o’er vales and hills,a. What does the expression ‘lonely as a cloud’ mean?b. What did the poet see as he ‘wandered’?c. Explain the comparison made by the poet in these lines.

2. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way,a. What does the poet compare to the stars?b. Why does he make this comparison?c. What is the description made by the poet in the next line?

3. I gazed—and gazed—but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:

11pensive: thoughtful

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a. How did the poet feel when he saw this scene?b. Did the poet enjoy the scene before him? Support your answer

with lines from the poem.c. Explain the lines ‘I gazed—and gazed … the show to me had

brought:’ in your own words. 4. For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood … And dances with the daffodils They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills.a. Explain the line ‘In vacant or in pensive mood’ in your own words.b. What happens when the poet is in such a mood? What is the

‘inward eye’ of the poet?c. Explain how the poet feels and the reasons behind it in your

own words.5. In the poem ‘Daffodils’, the poet expresses the idea of the

relationship between man and Nature. With reference to the poem, explain how the poet was inspired by the daffodils. You may cite lines from the poem to support your answer. What are the main ideas being expressed in the poem?

6. What is the ‘bliss of solitude’ for the poet? Why do you think he describes it as such?

7. Pick lines from the poem that describe how the poet felt when he first saw the flowers, and later when he recalled them in his memory. Write a short paragraph distinguishing between the two different emotions as expressed by the poet.

8. Personification is a poetic device, where human qualities are attributed to inanimate objects. Find examples of personification from the poem.

9. Humans have always depended on nature for survival and sustenance. However, of late, this relationship has become strained due to human exploitation of the environment. Write a short report on: Measures that we can adopt to restore balance in nature.