English, asked by jainyashvi300, 1 month ago

class 9 the lost child dialogue script writing ​

Answers

Answered by UrAnswerbook
2

Answer:

IT was the festival of spring. From the wintry shades of narrow

lanes and alleys emerged a gaily clad humanity. Some walked,

some rode on horses, others sat, being carried in bamboo and

bullock carts. One little boy ran between his father’s legs,

brimming over with life and laughter.

1. The Lost Child

A child goes to a fair with his parents. He is happy

and excited and wants the sweets and toys

displayed there. But his parents don’t buy them for

him. Why then does he refuse when someone else

offers them to him?

2020-21

2 / Moments

“Come, child, come,” called his parents, as he lagged behind,

fascinated by the toys in the shops that lined the way.

He hurried towards his parents, his feet obedient to their call,

his eyes still lingering on the receding toys. As he came to where

they had stopped to wait for him, he could not suppress the desire

of his heart, even though he well knew the old, cold stare of refusal

in their eyes.

“I want that toy,” he pleaded.

His father looked at him red-eyed, in his familiar tyrant’s way.

His mother, melted by the free spirit of the day was tender and,

giving him her finger to hold, said, “Look, child, what is before you!”

It was a flowering mustard-field, pale like melting gold as it

swept across miles and miles of even land.

A group of dragon-flies were bustling about on their gaudy

purple wings, intercepting the flight of a lone black bee or butterfly

in search of sweetness from the flowers. The child followed them

in the air with his gaze, till one of them would still its wings and

rest, and he would try to catch it. But it would go fluttering,

flapping, up into the air, when he had almost caught it in his

hands. Then his mother gave a cautionary call: “Come, child,

come, come on to the footpath.”

He ran towards his parents gaily and walked abreast of them

for a while, being, however, soon left behind, attracted by the

little insects and worms along the footpath that were teeming out

from their hiding places to enjoy the sunshine.

“Come, child, come!” his parents called from the shade of a

grove where they had seated themselves on the edge of a well. He

ran towards them.

A shower of young flowers fell upon the child as he entered

the grove, and, forgetting his parents, he began to gather the

raining petals in his hands. But lo! he heard the cooing of doves

and ran towards his parents, shouting, “The dove! The dove!” The

raining petals dropped from his forgotten hands.

“Come, child, come!” they called to the child, who had now

gone running in wild capers round the banyan tree, and gathering

him up they took the narrow, winding footpath which led to the

fair through the mustard fields.

2020-21

The Lost Child / 3

As they neared the village the child could see many other

footpaths full of throngs, converging to the whirlpool of the fair,

and felt at once repelled and fascinated by the confusion of the

world he was entering.

A sweetmeat seller hawked, “gulab-jaman, rasagulla, burfi,

jalebi,” at the corner of the entrance and a crowd pressed round

his counter at the foot of an architecture of many coloured sweets,

decorated with leaves of silver and gold. The child stared openeyed and his mouth watered for the burfi that was his favourite

sweet. “I want that burfi,” he slowly murmured. But he half knew

as he begged that his plea would not be heeded because his

parents would say he was greedy. So without waiting for an answer

he moved on.

A flower-seller hawked, “A garland of gulmohur, a garland of

gulmohur!” The child seemed irresistibly drawn. He went towards

the basket where the flowers lay heaped and half murmured, “I

want that garland.” But he well knew his parents would refuse to

buy him those flowers because they would say that they were

cheap. So, without waiting for an answer, he moved on.

A man stood holding a pole with yellow, red, green and purple

balloons flying from it. The child was simply carried away by the

rainbow glory of their silken colours and he was filled with an

overwhelming desire to possess them all. But he well knew his

parents would never buy him the balloons because they would

say he was too old to play with such toys. So he walked on farther.

A snake-charmer stood playing a flute to a snake which coiled

itself in a basket, its head raised in a graceful bend like the neck

of a swan, while the music stole into its invisible ears like the

gentle rippling of an invisible waterfall. The child went towards

the snake-charmer. But, knowing his parents had forbidden him

to hear such coarse music as the snake-charmer played, he

proceeded farther.

There was a roundabout in full swing. Men, women and

children, carried away in a whirling motion, shrieked and cried

with dizzy laughter. The child watched them intently and then he

made a bold request: “I want to go on the roundabout, please,

Father, Mother.”

Explanation:

Answered by raghavkumar19
6

Answer:

hey here is your answer

Explanation:

T was the festival of spring. From the wintry shades of narrow

lanes and alleys emerged a gaily clad humanity. Some walked,

some rode on horses, others sat, being carried in bamboo and

bullock carts. One little boy ran between his father’s legs,

brimming over with life and laughter.

1. The Lost Child

A child goes to a fair with his parents. He is happy

and excited and wants the sweets and toys

displayed there. But his parents don’t buy them for

him. Why then does he refuse when someone else

offers them to him?

2020-21

2 / Moments

“Come, child, come,” called his parents, as he lagged behind,

fascinated by the toys in the shops that lined the way.

He hurried towards his parents, his feet obedient to their call,

his eyes still lingering on the receding toys. As he came to where

they had stopped to wait for him, he could not suppress the desire

of his heart, even though he well knew the old, cold stare of refusal

in their eyes.

“I want that toy,” he pleaded.

His father looked at him red-eyed, in his familiar tyrant’s way.

His mother, melted by the free spirit of the day was tender and,

giving him her finger to hold, said, “Look, child, what is before you!”

It was a flowering mustard-field, pale like melting gold as it

swept across miles and miles of even land.

A group of dragon-flies were bustling about on their gaudy

purple wings, intercepting the flight of a lone black bee or butterfly

in search of sweetness from the flowers. The child followed them

in the air with his gaze, till one of them would still its wings and

rest, and he would try to catch it. But it would go fluttering,

flapping, up into the air, when he had almost caught it in his

hands. Then his mother gave a cautionary call: “Come, child,

come, come on to the footpath.”

He ran towards his parents gaily and walked abreast of them

for a while, being, however, soon left behind, attracted by the

little insects and worms along the footpath that were teeming out

from their hiding places to enjoy the sunshine.

“Come, child, come!” his parents called from the shade of a

grove where they had seated themselves on the edge of a well. He

ran towards them.

A shower of young flowers fell upon the child as he entered

the grove, and, forgetting his parents, he began to gather the

raining petals in his hands. But lo! he heard the cooing of doves

and ran towards his parents, shouting, “The dove! The dove!” The

raining petals dropped from his forgotten hands.

“Come, child, come!” they called to the child, who had now

gone running in wild capers round the banyan tree, and gathering

him up they took the narrow, winding footpath which led to the

fair through the mustard fields.

2020-21

The Lost Child / 3

As they neared the village the child could see many other

footpaths full of throngs, converging to the whirlpool of the fair,

and felt at once repelled and fascinated by the confusion of the

world he was entering.

A sweetmeat seller hawked, “gulab-jaman, rasagulla, burfi,

jalebi,” at the corner of the entrance and a crowd pressed round

his counter at the foot of an architecture of many coloured sweets,

decorated with leaves of silver and gold. The child stared openeyed and his mouth watered for the burfi that was his favourite

sweet. “I want that burfi,” he slowly murmured. But he half knew

as he begged that his plea would not be heeded because his

parents would say he was greedy. So without waiting for an answer

he moved on.

A flower-seller hawked, “A garland of gulmohur, a garland of

gulmohur!” The child seemed irresistibly drawn. He went towards

the basket where the flowers lay heaped and half murmured, “I

want that garland.” But he well knew his parents would refuse to

buy him those flowers because they would say that they were

cheap. So, without waiting for an answer, he moved on.

A man stood holding a pole with yellow, red, green and purple

balloons flying from it. The child was simply carried away by the

rainbow glory of their silken colours and he was filled with an

overwhelming desire to possess them all. But he well knew his

parents would never buy him the balloons because they would

say he was too old to play with such toys. So he walked on farther.

A snake-charmer stood playing a flute to a snake which coiled

itself in a basket, its head raised in a graceful bend like the neck

of a swan, while the music stole into its invisible ears like the

gentle rippling of an invisible waterfall. The child went towards

the snake-charmer. But, knowing his parents had forbidden him

to hear such coarse music as the snake-charmer played, he

proceeded farther.

There was a roundabout in full swing. Men, women and

children, carried away in a whirling motion, shrieked and cried

with dizzy laughter. The child watched them intently and then he

made a bold request: “I want to go on the roundabout, please,

Father, Mother.”

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