SUBJECTS
April 28, 2016
VISION ACADEMY: SSC-ENGLISH
VISION ACADEMY: SSC-ENGLISH: AP-SSC-ENGLISH-DEMO LESSONS UNIT-1 A. ATTITUDE IS ALTITUDE B. EVERY SUCCESS STORY IS ALSO A STORY OF GREAT FAILURES C....
April 27, 2016
THE ART OF WICKET-KEEPING : THE UTTAKH-BHAITAKH BREED - RAMCHANDRA GUHA
THE ART OF WICKET-KEEPING - THE UTTAKH-BHAITAKH BREED
BY RAMCHANDRA GUHA
The essay " The Art of Wicket Keeping : The Uttakh - Bhaitakh Breed ' written by a famous cricket journalist Ramachandra Guha. The essay ends with a long list of attributes that a wicket keeper should have the eligibility and qualification criteria to select a wicket keeper. The task of a wicket - keeper is difficult. It is more challenging than that of a batsman or a bowler. A wicket - keeper has to be mentally alert and physically fit. He has to manage the weight of heavy gloves and pads. He has to crouch in an uncomfortable position behind, the wickets. He has to be fearless and unmindful of danger. His reflexes must be quick and he must remain discussed at all times. He cannot afford to be distracted by the spectators. A wicket - keeper does not get another chance if he makes a mistake. As the position demands such rare qualities and painstaking attention, it is understood be the tough job. The writer aptly comments that the mission of a Prime Minister of a coalition government is easier than the job of a wicket keeper of Indian team.
GENDER BIAS BY SUDHA MURTHY
GENDER BIAS BY SUDHA MURTHY
The essay GENDER BIAS written by SUDHA MURTHY, a well known social worker and author. The essay ‘Gender Bias’ is taken from the collection titled ‘How I Taught my Grandmother to Read’. Sudha Murthy is renowned for her noble mission of providing computer and library facilities in all government schools of Karnataka. She is the Chairperson of Infosys Foundation.
In this essay Sudha Murthy narrates how she initially faced gender discrimination but later succeeded in getting a job in Telco. Sudha Murthy’s style of writing is simple and direct and communicates her ideas clearly. The essay is both enjoyable and inspiring.
ROBOTS AND PEOPLE - ISAAC ASIMOV
***
ROBOTS AND PEOPLE BY ISAAC ASIMOV
The stories grew from Asimov’s opinion that anyone smart enough to create robots would be smart enough to make sure that those robots wouldn’t attack their makers. Conceived by Asimov as the Three Laws of Robotics - essential laws built into the robots’ inner workings - these Laws freed science fiction writers to develop robots as characters instead of portraying them as monstrous things. I, ROBOT hint loudly that robots are a “better breed” than humans and though they were created to serve, they will inevitably become the masters.
Beginning with a simple story about the relationship between a little girl and a limited - function robot, I Robot moves on to explore, in subsequent stories, increasingly sophisticated thoughts, questions, and moral complexities. In the process the book reveals Asimov’s overarching vision of a future that entangles inextricably the humans and the machines…………………
***
Isaac Asimov was born in Russia but his family moved to New York when he was three years old. A self-proclaimed “child prodigy,” he could read before first grade and had an almost perfect memory. Asimov credits his early intellectual development to public libraries……. “My real education, the superstructure, the details, the true architecture, I got out of the public library. For an impoverished child……. the library was the open door to wonder and achievement.”……..
THINKING OUT OF THE BOX - LATERAL THINKING BY EDWARD DE BONO
THINKING OUT OF THE BOX - LATERAL THINKING
BY EDWARD DE BONO
The essay “Thinking out of the Box: Lateral Thinking” is adapted from an article on lateral thinking in the internet Edward de Bono is the main propagator of lateral thinking. The essay explains the importance of lateral thinking in solving problems that we encounter in our daily life. Lateral thinking is a way of thinking that is different from logical thinking.
De Bono used the technique of six thinking hats. These hats are of different colours. They have a symbolic significance. Each hat represents a particular style of thinking or approach to a problem. De Bono points out that the use of these hats is particularly useful in group discussions. Different members can wear different hats. There is more team work and less ill will an argument. People are more ready to understand and appreciate each other’s point of view. They are less rigid and stubborn. De Bono says that we have to think in new, creative ways to solve problem. We may have to keep changing hats. We wear a white hat when we try to grasp facts, a red hat when we view the emotional aspects of a problem and a black one when we make a judgment. We wear a green hat when we study various alternatives and a yellow one when we look at the pros and cons of an issue. We wear a blue hat when we review our thinking process. Changing hats is interesting and challenging. We come up with different ideas and suggestions………….. Thank you.
April 20, 2016
A SPIDER AND A FLY BY DON MARQUIS
A SPIDER AND A FLY BY DON MARQUIS
“a spider and a fly
i heard a spider
and a fly arguing
wait said the fly
do not eat me
i serve a great purpose
in the world
you will have to
show me said the spider
i scurry around
gutters and sewers
and garbage cans
said the fly and gather
up the germs of
typhoid influenza
and pneumonia on my feet
and wings
then i carry these germs
into households of men
and give them diseases
all the people who
have lived the right
sort of life recover
from the diseases
and the old soaks who
have weakened their systems
with liquor and iniquity
succumb it is my mission
to help rid the world
of these wicked persons
i am a vessel of righteousness
scattering seeds of justice
and serving the noblest uses
it is true said the spider
that you are more
useful in a plodding
material sort of way
than i am but i do not
serve the utilitarian deities
i serve the gods of beauty
look at the gossamer webs
i weave they float in the sun
like filaments of song
if you get what i mean
i do not work at anything
i play all the time
i am busy with the stuff
of enchantment and the materials
of fairyland my works
transcend utility
i am the artist
a creator and demi god
it is ridiculous to suppose
that i should be denied
the food i need in order
to continue to create
beauty i tell you
plainly mister fly it is all
damned nonsense for that food
to rear up on its hind legs
and say it should not be eaten
you have convinced me
said the fly say no more
and shutting all his eyes
he prepared himself for dinner
and yet he said i could
have made out a case
for myself too if i had
had a better line of talk
of course you could said the spider
clutching a sirloin from him
but the end would have been
just the same if neither of
us had spoken at all
boss i am afraid that what
the spider said is true
and it gives me to think
furiously upon the futility
of literature
archy”
THE GIVING TREE BY SHEL SILVEERSTEIN
THE GIVING TREE BY SHEL SILVEERSTEIN
Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.'
'I am too big to climb and play' said
the boy.
'I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?'
'I'm sorry,' said the tree, 'but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy.'
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, 'Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.'
'I am too busy to climb trees,' said the boy.
'I want a house to keep me warm,' he said.
'I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house ?'
' I have no house,' said the tree.
'The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.'
And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
'Come, Boy,' she whispered,
'come and play.'
'I am too old and sad to play,'
said the boy.
'I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?'
'Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,' said the tree.
'Then you can sail away...
and be happy.'
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.
And after a long time
the boy came back again.
'I am sorry, Boy,'
said the tree,' but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone.'
'My teeth are too weak
for apples,' said the boy.
'My branches are gone,'
said the tree. ' You
cannot swing on them - '
'I am too old to swing
on branches,' said the boy.
'My trunk is gone, ' said the tree.
'You cannot climb'
'I am too tired to climb' said the boy.
'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.
'I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry....'
'I don't need very much now,' said the boy.
'just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.'
'Well,' said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.'
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.
SPOON FEEDING BY W.R.INGE
SPOON FEEDING BY W.R.INGE
Disclaiming against the tendency of modern living conditions to “spoon-feed” the individual, the Very Rev. W. R. Inge, London’s “Gloomy Dean” who is presently upon a lecture tour of the United States, comes to the conclusion, in the course of an article in The Living Age, that nature will make us pay for our easy mode of life, to day. Nature, he argues, will take away any faculty that is not used.
He cites the savage “who never had any trouble with his teeth,” as against the individual of to day. The savage kept “healthy by the hard work in tearing tough meat without the help of knife and fork.” These implements, he contends, and the art of cookery are reducing man to a toothless animal and are perhaps responsible for such evils as appendicitis and cancer, from which savages hardly suffer at all...............
EQUIPMENT BY EDGAR ALBERT GUEST
EQUIPMENT BY EDGAR ALBERT GUEST
Figure it out for yourself, my lad,
You've all that the greatest of men have had,
Two arms, two hands, two legs, two eyes,
And a brain to use if you would be wise.
With this equipment they all began,
So start for the top and say 'I can.'
Look them over, the wise and great,
They take their food from a common plate
And similar knives and forks they use,
With similar laces they tie their shoes,
The world considers them brave and smart.
But you've all they had when they made their start.
You can triumph and come to skill,
You can be great if only you will,
You're well equipped for what fight you choose,
You have legs and arms and a brain to use,
And the man who has risen, great deeds to do
Began his life with no more than you.
You are the handicap you must face,
You are the one who must choose your place,
You must say where you want to go.
How much you will study the truth to know,
God has equipped you for life, But He
Lets you decide what you want to be.
Courage must come from the soul within,
The man must furnish the will to win,
So figure it out for yourself, my lad,
You were born with all that the great have had,
With your equipment they all began.
Get hold of yourself, and say: 'I can.'
HUMAN FAMILY BY DR. MAYA ANGELOU
HUMAN FAMILY (POEM BY DR. MAYA ANGELOU)
I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.
Some declare their lives are lived
as true profundity,
and others claim they really live
the real reality.
The variety of our skin tones
can confuse, bemuse, delight,
brown and pink and beige and purple,
tan and blue and white.
I’ve sailed upon the seven seas
and stopped in every land.
I’ve seen the wonders of the world,
not yet one common man.
I know ten thousand women
called Jane and Mary Jane,
but I’ve not seen any two
who really were the same.
Mirror twins are different
although their features jibe,
and lovers think quite different thoughts
while lying side by side.
We love and lose in China,
we weep on England’s moors,
and laugh and moan in Guinea,
and thrive on Spanish shores.
We seek success in Finland,
are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ,
in major we’re the same.
I note the obvious differences
between each sort and type,
but we are more alike, my friends
than we are unalike.
We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.
We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.
THE KITE BY HARRY BEHN
THE KITE BY HARRY BEHN
(All of us like to fly kites. Have you ever tried to fly one? Read this poem about a kite as it flies in the sky.)
How bright on the blue
Is a kite when it’s new!
With a dive and a dip
It snaps its tail
Then soars like a ship
With only a sail
As over tides
Of wind it rides,
Climbs to the crest
Of a gust and pulls,
Then seems to rest
As wind falls.
When string goes slack
You wind it back
And run until
A new breeze blows
And its wings fill
And up it goes!
How bright on the blue
Is a kite when it’s new!
But a raggeder thing
You never will see
When it flaps on a string
In the top of a tree.
HARVEST HYMN BY JOHN BETJEMAN
Harvest Hymn by John Betjeman
Getting Started
List the things that we get from Nature. What do we give in return?
What is likely to happen if there is no land to cultivate in the future?
We spray the fields and scatter
The poison on the ground
So that no wicked wild flowers
Upon our farm be found.
We like whatever helps us
To line our purse with pence;
The twenty-four-hour broiler-house
And neat electric fence.
All concrete sheds around us
And Jaguars in the yard,
The telly lounge and deep-freeze
Are ours from working hard.
We fire the fields for harvest,
The hedges swell the flame,
The oak trees and the cottages
From which our fathers came.
We give no compensation,
The earth is ours today,
And if we lose on arable,
The bungalows will pay.
THE GUIDE BY R.K. NARAYAN
THE GUIDE BY R.K. NARAYAN
R.K. Narayan's fiction depicts the ordinary man's search for selfhood and the struggle he has to encounter on his way to self-realization. His novels are hilariously entertaining and spiritually edifying. The Guide reveals the Indian way of life and also the culture and tradition of India. R.K. Narayan has used typical Indian characters and Indian atmosphere to portray Indian culture. The main characters of this novel are Raju, Rosie and Marco. R.K. Narayan has given a true social picture of India through 'The Guide'.
April 19, 2016
BULL IN THE CITY BY SRIRANGAM SRINIVASA RAO(SRI SRI)
BULL IN THE CITY BY SRIRANGAM SRINIVASA RAO (SRI SRI)
Bull in the City
On the main thoroughfare of the city
The bull casually
Perhaps with the memories from the earlier birth
Chewing the cud with half shut eyes
Without moving or shifting
The bull in the heart of the city.
As if it is the right holder of the road
Leaving the responsibility to the times
Heckling the scampering of the civilisation
Stood there that it is the King!
Who dares to ask the bull to move
Look how it glances around
Aye! Aye! Motor car!
What is the hurry with you?
Oh! Brother Cyclist!
Careful! The bull wouldn't budge!
Anti-machinery, proponent of non-violence and a vegetarian
Expert in anti alcoholism
On the main road of the city
Obstructing the passage of the civility
However long like this
This bull can stand!
If the bull has no sense
Shouldn't the man have it?
నగరంలో వృషభం
నగరం నడి వీధిలో
వృషభం తీరుబాటుగా
గత జన్మ సంస్మృతులు కాబోలు
కనులరమోడ్చి మెదలకుండా
నగరం హృదయంలో వృషభం
దారికి హక్కుదారు తానే అయినట్టు
పరిత్యజించి కాలానికి బాధ్యత
పరిహసించి నాగరికత పరుగు
నిలబడింది నేనే రాజునని
ఎవరు పొమ్మనగల రీ ఎద్దుని
ఎలా చూస్తుందో చూ
ఏయ్ ఏయ్ మోటారుకారూ
ఏవిటేవిటి నీ తొందర
భాయ్ భాయ్ సైక్లిస్ట్
భద్రంసుమీ ఎద్దు నిన్ను తప్పుకోదు
యంత్రవిరోధి అహింసావాది శాకాహారి
మద్య నిషేధ ప్రజ్ఞాశాలి
నగరం నడిమీధిలో
నాగరికత గమనాన్ని నిరోధిస్తూ
ఇలా యెంతసేపయినా సరే
ఈ యెద్దు నిలబడగలదు
ఎద్దుకి లేకపోతే బుద్ధి
మనిషికేనా ఉండొద్దా?
ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
William Wordsworth was the great initiator of the Romantic movement. His poetry is full of joy, exploration, seeing the beauty stark and as a vision that becomes unbearable, and needs to be expressed. They are full of the joy of Nature, of life and soothe the heart and the mind in a unique and profoundly original way. For him life was simply an endless fascination for life, nature, living and self discovery. At times he sees with such a blinding vision of divine beauty, it leaves us shocked, and he makes that divinity of nature believable, as he had experienced.
ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
I HAVE a boy of five years old;
His face is fair and fresh to see;
His limbs are cast in beauty's mold
And dearly he loves me.
One morn we strolled on our dry walk,
Or quiet home all full in view,
And held such intermittent talk
As we are wont to do.
My thoughts on former pleasures ran;
I thought of Kilve's delightful shore,
Our pleasant home when spring began,
A long, long year before.
A day it was when I could bear
Some fond regrets to entertain;
With so much happiness to spare,
I could not feel a pain.
The green earth echoed to the feet
Of lambs that bounded through the glade,
From shade to sunshine, and as fleet
From sunshine back to shade.
Birds warbled round me and each trace
Of inward sadness had its charm;
Kilve, thought I, was a favoured place,
And so is Liswyn farm.
My boy beside me tripped, so slim
And graceful in his rustic dress!
And, as we talked, I questioned him,
In very idleness.
'Now tell me, had you rather be,'
I said. and took him by the arm,
'On Kilve's smooth shore, by the green sea,
Or here at Liswyn farm?'
In careless mood he looked at me,
While still I held him by the arm,
And said, 'At Kilve I'd rather be
Than here at Liswyn farm.'
'Now, little Edward, say why so
My little Edward, tell me why.'
'I cannot tell, I do not know.'
'Why, this is strange,' said I;
'For, here are woods, hills smooth and warm:
There surely must one reason be
Why you would change sweet Liswyn farm
For Kilve by the green sea.'
At this, my boy hung down his head,
He blushed with shame, nor made reply;
And three times to the child I said,
'Why, :Edward, tell me why?'
His head he raised there was in sight,
It caught his eye, he saw it plain
Upon the house-top, glittering bright,
A broad and gilded vane.
Then did the boy his tongue unlock,
And eased his mind with this reply:
'At Kilve there was no weather-cock;
And that's the reaon why.'
O dearest, dearest boy! my heart
For better lore would seldom yearn,
Could I but teach the hundredth part
Of what from thee I learn.
TELEVISION BY ROALD DAHL
*
TELEVISION BY ROALD DAHL
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set -
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start - oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.
April 16, 2016
ON FRIENDSHIP BY KAHLIL GIBRAN
ON FRIENDSHIP BY KAHLIL GIBRAN
And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanks giving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
MOTHER'S DAY BY SHIV K KUMAR
MOTHER'S DAY BY SHIV K KUMAR
We do it differently
in this dark continent.
Not just once a year
a string of spurious verses
ensconced in a bouquet
shaped like Chinese house of dreams.
My mother is more demanding -
an obeisance at each sunrise,
like a devotee throwing a handful
of yellow rice to the birds.
Holding a candelabrum before an idol,
Just once a year
Is desecrating it.
Whenever I see a caterpillar slouching
towards a pansy's eye,
or hear ancestral voices in a wind's howl,
I invoke my deity -
sometimes twice a day.
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