English Test - 18

Read the passage given below and answer the questions/complete the statements that follow by choosing the most appropriate options out of the given ones.

When I visited India again in 1945, the big change I noticed was the increased interest in politics. You cannot understand the modern Indians unless you realise that politics occupy them so passionately and constantly, that artistic problems, and even social problems- are subsidiary. Their attitude is ‘’first we must find the correct political solution and then we can deal with other matters’’ I think the attitude is unsound, and used to say so; still, there it is, and they hold it much more vehemently than they did a quarter of a century ago. When I spoke about the necessity of form in literature and the importance of the individual vision, their attention wandered, although they listened politely. Literature, in their view, should expound or inspire a political creed.

Externally the place has not changed. It looks much as it did from the train. Outside the carriage windows (rather dirty windows) it unrolls as before - monotonous, enigmatic, and at moments sinister. And in some long motor drives which I look through the Deccan there were the same combinations of hills, rocks, bushes, ruins, dusty people and occasional yellow flowers. There is still poverty, and the malnutrition, which persists like a ground-swell beneath the pleasant froth of my immediate experience. Industrialisation has increased though it does not dominate the landscape yet as it does in the west. No, externally India has not changed. And this changelessness in her is called by some observers ‘’the real India’’. I don’t myself like the phrase ‘’the real India". I suspect it. It always makes me prick my ears.

Read the passage given below and answer the questions/complete the statements that follow by choosing the most appropriate options out of the given ones.

When I visited India again in 1945, the big change I noticed was the increased interest in politics. You cannot understand the modern Indians unless you realise that politics occupy them so passionately and constantly, that artistic problems, and even social problems- are subsidiary. Their attitude is ‘’first we must find the correct political solution and then we can deal with other matters’’ I think the attitude is unsound, and used to say so; still, there it is, and they hold it much more vehemently than they did a quarter of a century ago. When I spoke about the necessity of form in literature and the importance of the individual vision, their attention wandered, although they listened politely. Literature, in their view, should expound or inspire a political creed.

Externally the place has not changed. It looks much as it did from the train. Outside the carriage windows (rather dirty windows) it unrolls as before - monotonous, enigmatic, and at moments sinister. And in some long motor drives which I look through the Deccan there were the same combinations of hills, rocks, bushes, ruins, dusty people and occasional yellow flowers. There is still poverty, and the malnutrition, which persists like a ground-swell beneath the pleasant froth of my immediate experience. Industrialisation has increased though it does not dominate the landscape yet as it does in the west. No, externally India has not changed. And this changelessness in her is called by some observers ‘’the real India’’. I don’t myself like the phrase ‘’the real India". I suspect it. It always makes me prick my ears.

Read the passage given below and answer the questions/complete the statements that follow by choosing the most appropriate options out of the given ones.

When I visited India again in 1945, the big change I noticed was the increased interest in politics. You cannot understand the modern Indians unless you realise that politics occupy them so passionately and constantly, that artistic problems, and even social problems- are subsidiary. Their attitude is ‘’first we must find the correct political solution and then we can deal with other matters’’ I think the attitude is unsound, and used to say so; still, there it is, and they hold it much more vehemently than they did a quarter of a century ago. When I spoke about the necessity of form in literature and the importance of the individual vision, their attention wandered, although they listened politely. Literature, in their view, should expound or inspire a political creed.

Externally the place has not changed. It looks much as it did from the train. Outside the carriage windows (rather dirty windows) it unrolls as before - monotonous, enigmatic, and at moments sinister. And in some long motor drives which I look through the Deccan there were the same combinations of hills, rocks, bushes, ruins, dusty people and occasional yellow flowers. There is still poverty, and the malnutrition, which persists like a ground-swell beneath the pleasant froth of my immediate experience. Industrialisation has increased though it does not dominate the landscape yet as it does in the west. No, externally India has not changed. And this changelessness in her is called by some observers ‘’the real India’’. I don’t myself like the phrase ‘’the real India". I suspect it. It always makes me prick my ears.

Read the passage given below and answer the questions/complete the statements that follow by choosing the most appropriate options out of the given ones.

When I visited India again in 1945, the big change I noticed was the increased interest in politics. You cannot understand the modern Indians unless you realise that politics occupy them so passionately and constantly, that artistic problems, and even social problems- are subsidiary. Their attitude is ‘’first we must find the correct political solution and then we can deal with other matters’’ I think the attitude is unsound, and used to say so; still, there it is, and they hold it much more vehemently than they did a quarter of a century ago. When I spoke about the necessity of form in literature and the importance of the individual vision, their attention wandered, although they listened politely. Literature, in their view, should expound or inspire a political creed.

Externally the place has not changed. It looks much as it did from the train. Outside the carriage windows (rather dirty windows) it unrolls as before - monotonous, enigmatic, and at moments sinister. And in some long motor drives which I look through the Deccan there were the same combinations of hills, rocks, bushes, ruins, dusty people and occasional yellow flowers. There is still poverty, and the malnutrition, which persists like a ground-swell beneath the pleasant froth of my immediate experience. Industrialisation has increased though it does not dominate the landscape yet as it does in the west. No, externally India has not changed. And this changelessness in her is called by some observers ‘’the real India’’. I don’t myself like the phrase ‘’the real India". I suspect it. It always makes me prick my ears.

Read the passage given below and answer the questions/complete the statements that follow by choosing the most appropriate options out of the given ones.

When I visited India again in 1945, the big change I noticed was the increased interest in politics. You cannot understand the modern Indians unless you realise that politics occupy them so passionately and constantly, that artistic problems, and even social problems- are subsidiary. Their attitude is ‘’first we must find the correct political solution and then we can deal with other matters’’ I think the attitude is unsound, and used to say so; still, there it is, and they hold it much more vehemently than they did a quarter of a century ago. When I spoke about the necessity of form in literature and the importance of the individual vision, their attention wandered, although they listened politely. Literature, in their view, should expound or inspire a political creed.

Externally the place has not changed. It looks much as it did from the train. Outside the carriage windows (rather dirty windows) it unrolls as before - monotonous, enigmatic, and at moments sinister. And in some long motor drives which I look through the Deccan there were the same combinations of hills, rocks, bushes, ruins, dusty people and occasional yellow flowers. There is still poverty, and the malnutrition, which persists like a ground-swell beneath the pleasant froth of my immediate experience. Industrialisation has increased though it does not dominate the landscape yet as it does in the west. No, externally India has not changed. And this changelessness in her is called by some observers ‘’the real India’’. I don’t myself like the phrase ‘’the real India". I suspect it. It always makes me prick my ears.

Read the passage given below and answer the questions/complete the statements that follow with the help of given options.

On one recent evening, after a heavy downpour, one of the Lodhi Garden lawns got filled up with water like a reservoir. To stand by it was like being in that fabled Lake District of England, mostly identified with poet William Wordsworth. By the next day the water had drained off. The lake seemed to be put a mocking dream. 

But there is a place in the heart of the city that is a lake all year long. It is an experience to walk around the lake-or Hauz-in south Delhi's Hauz Khas village, and something has to be said about going there at this time of the year, when the monsoon is still lingering on, and the clouds play hide and seek with the sun throughout the day. In the evening, this playfulness is made sublime by the many shades of light produced by the marriage of the setting sun with the wide array of clouds _ The borders of those clouds then glow with fire with shades of pinks and blues. These clouds fall on the surface of the lake making it a kind of impressionist painting.

This evening the lane circling around the lake is teeming with joggers from Green Park and Safdarjung Enclave, along with many monkeys, boldly sitting on the park benches and fences, watching the equally fearless humans go by. There are also ladies with dogs _ One woman is met walking with her little dog under her arm. In one corner of the lake, curious walkers throw bread pieces into the water to see the surface suddenly getting dark with scores of tiny fish rushing on to claim their bites. 

Read the passage given below and answer the questions/complete the statements that follow with the help of given options.

On one recent evening, after a heavy downpour, one of the Lodhi Garden lawns got filled up with water like a reservoir. To stand by it was like being in that fabled Lake District of England, mostly identified with poet William Wordsworth. By the next day the water had drained off. The lake seemed to be put a mocking dream. 

But there is a place in the heart of the city that is a lake all year long. It is an experience to walk around the lake-or Hauz-in south Delhi's Hauz Khas village, and something has to be said about going there at this time of the year, when the monsoon is still lingering on, and the clouds play hide and seek with the sun throughout the day. In the evening, this playfulness is made sublime by the many shades of light produced by the marriage of the setting sun with the wide array of clouds _ The borders of those clouds then glow with fire with shades of pinks and blues. These clouds fall on the surface of the lake making it a kind of impressionist painting.

This evening the lane circling around the lake is teeming with joggers from Green Park and Safdarjung Enclave, along with many monkeys, boldly sitting on the park benches and fences, watching the equally fearless humans go by. There are also ladies with dogs _ One woman is met walking with her little dog under her arm. In one corner of the lake, curious walkers throw bread pieces into the water to see the surface suddenly getting dark with scores of tiny fish rushing on to claim their bites. 

Read the passage given below and answer the questions/complete the statements that follow with the help of given options.

On one recent evening, after a heavy downpour, one of the Lodhi Garden lawns got filled up with water like a reservoir. To stand by it was like being in that fabled Lake District of England, mostly identified with poet William Wordsworth. By the next day the water had drained off. The lake seemed to be put a mocking dream. 

But there is a place in the heart of the city that is a lake all year long. It is an experience to walk around the lake-or Hauz-in south Delhi's Hauz Khas village, and something has to be said about going there at this time of the year, when the monsoon is still lingering on, and the clouds play hide and seek with the sun throughout the day. In the evening, this playfulness is made sublime by the many shades of light produced by the marriage of the setting sun with the wide array of clouds _ The borders of those clouds then glow with fire with shades of pinks and blues. These clouds fall on the surface of the lake making it a kind of impressionist painting.

This evening the lane circling around the lake is teeming with joggers from Green Park and Safdarjung Enclave, along with many monkeys, boldly sitting on the park benches and fences, watching the equally fearless humans go by. There are also ladies with dogs _ One woman is met walking with her little dog under her arm. In one corner of the lake, curious walkers throw bread pieces into the water to see the surface suddenly getting dark with scores of tiny fish rushing on to claim their bites. 

Read the passage given below and answer the questions/complete the statements that follow with the help of given options.

On one recent evening, after a heavy downpour, one of the Lodhi Garden lawns got filled up with water like a reservoir. To stand by it was like being in that fabled Lake District of England, mostly identified with poet William Wordsworth. By the next day the water had drained off. The lake seemed to be put a mocking dream. 

But there is a place in the heart of the city that is a lake all year long. It is an experience to walk around the lake-or Hauz-in south Delhi's Hauz Khas village, and something has to be said about going there at this time of the year, when the monsoon is still lingering on, and the clouds play hide and seek with the sun throughout the day. In the evening, this playfulness is made sublime by the many shades of light produced by the marriage of the setting sun with the wide array of clouds _ The borders of those clouds then glow with fire with shades of pinks and blues. These clouds fall on the surface of the lake making it a kind of impressionist painting.

This evening the lane circling around the lake is teeming with joggers from Green Park and Safdarjung Enclave, along with many monkeys, boldly sitting on the park benches and fences, watching the equally fearless humans go by. There are also ladies with dogs _ One woman is met walking with her little dog under her arm. In one corner of the lake, curious walkers throw bread pieces into the water to see the surface suddenly getting dark with scores of tiny fish rushing on to claim their bites. 

Read the passage given below and answer the questions/complete the statements that follow with the help of given options.

On one recent evening, after a heavy downpour, one of the Lodhi Garden lawns got filled up with water like a reservoir. To stand by it was like being in that fabled Lake District of England, mostly identified with poet William Wordsworth. By the next day the water had drained off. The lake seemed to be put a mocking dream. 

But there is a place in the heart of the city that is a lake all year long. It is an experience to walk around the lake-or Hauz-in south Delhi's Hauz Khas village, and something has to be said about going there at this time of the year, when the monsoon is still lingering on, and the clouds play hide and seek with the sun throughout the day. In the evening, this playfulness is made sublime by the many shades of light produced by the marriage of the setting sun with the wide array of clouds _ The borders of those clouds then glow with fire with shades of pinks and blues. These clouds fall on the surface of the lake making it a kind of impressionist painting.

This evening the lane circling around the lake is teeming with joggers from Green Park and Safdarjung Enclave, along with many monkeys, boldly sitting on the park benches and fences, watching the equally fearless humans go by. There are also ladies with dogs _ One woman is met walking with her little dog under her arm. In one corner of the lake, curious walkers throw bread pieces into the water to see the surface suddenly getting dark with scores of tiny fish rushing on to claim their bites.