CTET Paper-I English: Questions 185 - 191 of 294
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When I learned that my 72 years old mother was playing scrabble against herself, I knew, I had to do something. “Who is playing? ” I asked one day when I saw a half finished game on the table. “My right hand versus my left”. “Excuse me” I said. “As your father does not plays with me and I want to keep my mind engaged and sharp. ” An adorable pursuit, but I questioned whether my mother’s solitary version of scrabble would achieve that objectives. My husband suggested we should give her a computer to play against. I wasn’t sure my mother was ready for a cyber scrabble it had taken 10 years to convince her to purchase a microwave. Nevertheless, we packed up our old PC, complete with scabble and a word processing program and delivered it to my parent’s home. And so began my mother’s journey in the exciting world of computers. It also marked as the starting of a unique teaching assignment for me. I’ve taught children and adults of all ages, but never thought, I would be teaching my mother to do anything. Inspite of, the fear on her face when she first saw our gift, my mother was very excited to get started. She sat astonished and amazed on the screen lit up and the various icons presented themselves. Slowly, but surely my mother caught on, preparing notes in a mini spiral book. I wondered how she’d far without me. But thereafter, she only spoke on her game on the computer to me. She even forgot to ask her stock question, “What did you have for supper? ” It was no longer on the agenda. She talked about RAM, ROM and CPU terms spilled out effortlessly from her mother. My mother had learned a new mother tongue.
After a lifetime of being her child, I was finally the one with knowledge to share with my mummy. But even now, I realise she continuous to teach me. I understand the fact that its not the matter of age, its the “willing spirit which is capable of anything”.
Question number: 185 (5 of 9 Based on Passage) Show Passage
Question number: 186 (6 of 9 Based on Passage) Show Passage
Question number: 187 (7 of 9 Based on Passage) Show Passage
Question number: 188 (8 of 9 Based on Passage) Show Passage
Behold her, single in the filed,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Along she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard
In spring time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or plain,
That has been, and may be again?
Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending
I saw her singing at her work,
And o’er the sickle bending;
I listenend, motionless and still,
And, as I mounted up the hill, ‘
The music in my heart I bore, ‘
Long after it was heart no more.
- William Wordsworth