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Question
A Russian girl, Maria Sharapova, reached the summit of women’s tennis when she was barely eighteen. As you read about her, see if you can draw a comparison between her and Santosh Yadav.
As you read, look for the answers to these questions.
– Why was Maria sent to the United States?
– Why didn’t her mother go with her?
– What are her hobbies? What does she like?
– What motivates her to keep going?
Solution
Maria was sent to the United States for her tennis training.
Her mother could not go with her because of visa restrictions.
Her hobbies are fashion, singing and dancing. She likes reading the novels of Arthur Conan Doyle. She has a fondness for sophisticated evening gowns, pancakes with chocolate spread and fizzy orange drinks.
Apart from money, the motivation to become number one in the world keeps her going.
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Read this article about the great Indian Rhinoceros. [You will find the information useful for your group discussion in 5.]
The Indian Rhinoceros or the Great One-Horned Rhinoceros or the Asian Onehorned Rhinoceros (Rhinoceros unicomis) is a large mammal primarily found in north-eastern India, Nepal and parts of Bhutan. It is confined to the tall grasslands and forests in the foothills of the Himalayas.
The Indian Rhinoceros once ranged throughout the entire stretch of the Indo Gangetic Plain but excessive hunting reduced their natural habitat drastically.
Today, about 3,000 Indian Rhinos live in the wild, 1,800 of which are found in Assam alone. In 2008, more than 400 Indian Rhinos were sighted in Nepal's Chitwan National Park.
In size it is equal to that of the White Rhino in Africa; together they are the largest of all rhino species. The Great One-Horned Rhinoceros has a single horn; this is present in both males and females, but not on newborn young. In most adults, the horn reachee a length of about 25 centimetres, but has been recorded up to 57 .2 centimetres in length. The nasal hom curves backwards from the nose. The horn is naturally black.
This prehistoric-looking rhinoceros bas thick, silver-brown skin which becomes pinkish near the large skin folds that cover its body. The male develops thick neckfolds. It has very little body hair aside from eyelashes, ear-fringes and tail-brush.
These rhinos live in tall grasslands and riverine forests, but due to the loss of habitat, they have been forced towards cultivated land. They are mostly solitary creatures, with the exception of mothers and calves and breeding pairs, although they sometimes, congregate at bathing areas.
The Indian Rhinoceros makes a wide variety of vocalizations. At least ten distinct vocalizations have been identified: snorting, honking, bleating, roaring, squeak panting, moo-grunting, shrieking, groaning, rumbling and humphing. In addition to noises, the rhino also uses olfactory communication.
In aggregation, Indian Rhinos are often friendly. They will often greet each other by waving or bobbing their heads, mounting flanks, nuzzling noses, or licking. Rhinos will playfully spar, run around, and play with twigs in their mouth. Adult males are the primary instigators of fights. Fights between dominant males are the most common cause of rhino mortality. Indian rhinos have few natural enemies, except for tigers. Tigers sometimes kill unguarded calves, but adult rhinos are less vulnerable due to their size. Humans are the only other animal threat, hunting the rhinoceros primarily for sport or for the use of its horn. Indian Rhinos have been somewhat tamed and trained in circuses, but they remain dangerous and unpredictable animals.
In the nineteenth and early twentieth century, the Indian Rhinoceros was hunted relentlessly. Reports from the middle of the nineteenth century claim that some military officers in Assam individually shot more than 200 rhinos. In the early 1900s, officials became concerned at the rhinos' plummeting numbers. By 1908 in Kaziranga, one of the Rhinos' main ranges, the population had fallen to around 12 individuals. In 1910, all rhino hunting in India became prohibited.
The rhino has been a major success in conservation. Only 100 remained in the early 1900s; a century later, their population has increased to about 2500 again, but even so, the species is still endangered. The Indian rhino is illegally poached for its horn. Some cultures in East Asia believe that the hair has healing and potency powers and therefore is used for traditional Chinese medicine and other Oriental medicines.
The Indian and Nepalese Governments have taken major steps towards Indian Rhinoceros conservation with the help of the World Wildlife Fund (WWF). The Kaziranga National Park and Manas National Park in Assam, Pobitora Reserve Forest in Assam {having the highest Indian rhino density in the world), Orang National Park of Assam, Laokhowa Reserve Forest of Assam (having a very small population) and Royal Chitwan National Park in Nepal are homes to this endangered animal.
To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground. You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret. Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by the iron finger of your God so that you could not forget. The Red Man could never comprehend or remember it. Our religion is the traditions of our ancestors — the dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems, and is written in the hearts of our people.
Day and night cannot dwell together. The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man, as the morning mist flees before the morning sun. However, your proposition seems fair and I think that my people will accept it and will retire to the reservation you offer them. Then we will dwell apart in peace, for the words of the Great White Chief seem to be the words of nature speaking to my people out of dense darkness.
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Why do the dead of the Tribals never forget them or this beautiful world?
The boy looked up. He took his hands from his face and looked up at his teacher. The light from Mr. Oliver’s torch fell on the boy’s face, if you could call it a face. He had no eyes, ears, nose or mouth. It was just a round smooth head with a school cap on top of it.
And that’s where the story should end, as indeed it has for several people who have had similar experiences and dropped dead of inexplicable heart attacks. But for Mr. Oliver, it did not end there. The torch fell from his trembling hand. He turned and scrambled down the path, running blindly through the trees and calling for help. He was still running towards the school buildings when he saw a lantern swinging in the middle of the path. Mr. Oliver had never before been so pleased to see the night watchman. He stumbled up to the watchman, gasping for breath and speaking incoherently.
What is it, Sahib? Asked the watchman, has there been an accident? Why are you running?
I saw something, something horrible, a boy weeping in the forest and he had no face.
No face, Sahib?
No eyes, no nose, mouth, nothing.
Do you mean it was like this, Sahib? asked the watchman, and raised the lamp to his own face. The watchman had no eyes, no ears, no features at all, not even an eyebrow. The wind blew the lamp out and Mr. Oliver had his heart attack.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
What was Mr Oliver’s reaction when he saw the faceless boy? Whom did he stumble into?
When there was a strong wind, the pine trees made sad, eerie sounds that kept most people to the main road. But Mr. Oliver was not a nervous or imaginative man. He carried a torch – and on the night I write of, its pale gleam, the batteries were running down – moved fitfully over the narrow forest path. When its flickering light fell on the figure of a boy, who was sitting alone on a rock, Mr. Oliver stopped.
Boys were not supposed to be out of school after seven P.M. and it was now well past nine. What are you doing out here, boy, asked Mr. Oliver sharply, moving closer so that he could recognize the miscreant.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
Why did Mr Oliver take the shortcut? What did he carry with him?
“You haven’t brought home that sick brat!” Anger and astonishment were in the tones of Mrs. Joe Thompson; her face was in a flame.
“I think women’s hearts are sometimes very hard,” said Joe. Usually Joe Thompson got out of his wife’s way, or kept rigidly silent and non-combative when she fired up on any subject; it was with some surprise, therefore, that she now encountered a firmly-set countenance and a resolute pair of eyes.
“Women’s hearts are not half so hard as men’s!”
Joe saw, by a quick intuition, that his resolute bearing h«d impressed his wife and he answered quickly, and with real indignation, “Be that as it may, every woman at the funeral turned her eyes steadily from the sick child’s face, and when the cart went off with her dead mother, hurried away, and left her alone in that old hut, with the sun not an hour in the sky.”
“Where were John and Kate?” asked Mrs. Thompson.
“Farmer Jones tossed John into his wagon, and drove off. Katie went home with Mrs. Ellis; but nobody wanted the poor sick one. ‘Send her to the poorhouse,’ was the cry.”
“Why didn’t you let her go, then. What did you bring her here for?”
“She can’t walk to the poorhouse,” said Joe; “somebody’s arms must carry her, and mine are strong enough for that task.”
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Does the attitude of the villagers convey some truth about society at large?
Then, trying to hide my nervousness, I added, “How are you?”
“I’m fine. The question is: How are you?“
“What do you mean?” 1 asked “Something must be eating you,” he said—proud the way foreigners are when they’ve mastered a bit of American slang. “You should be able to qualify with your eyes closed.”
“Believe me, I know it,” I told him—and it felt good to say that to someone.
For the next few minutes we talked together. I didn’t tell Long what was “eating” me, but he seemed to understand my anger, and he took pains to reassure me. Although he’d been schooled in the Nazi youth movement, he didn’t believe in the Aryan-supremacy business any more than I did. We laughed over the fact that he really looked the part, though. An inch taller than I, he had a lean, muscular frame, clear blue eyes, blond hair and a strikingly handsome, chiseled face. Finally, seeing that I had calmed down somewhat, he pointed to the take-off board.
“Look,” he said. “Why don’t you draw a line a few inches in back of the board and aim at making your take-off from there? You’ll be sure not to foul, and you certainly ought to jump far enough to qualify. What does it matter if you’re not first in the trials? Tomorrow is what counts.”
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