Question 4. Read the following passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.
A horn blared, shattering the silence of the mountains, and a truck came round the bend of the road. A herd of goats scattered left and right.
The goatherds cursed as a cloud of dust enveloped them, and then the truck had left them behind and was rattling along the stony, unpaved road.
At the wheel of the truck, stroking his gray mustache, sat Pritam Singh, a turbaned Sikh. It was his own truck. He did not allow anyone to drive it. Every day he made two trips to the limestone quarries, carrying truckloads of limestone back to the depot at the bottom of the hill. He was paid by the trip, and he was always anxious to get in two trips everyday
Sitting beside him was Nathu, his cleaner- boy.
Nathu was a sturdy boy, with a round cheerful face. It was difficult to guess his age.
He might have been twelve or he might have been fifteen- he did not know himself, since no one in his village tried to record his birthday—but the hard life he led probably had made him look older than his years. He belonged to the hills, but his village was so far away, on the next range.
Last year the potato crops had failed. As a result, there was no money for salt, sugar soap and flour. Nathu’s parents , small brothers and sisters had a hard time surviving on the meagre produce. There had been no rain that summer. So, Nathu had waved good-bye to his people and came down to the town in the valley to look for work. Someone directed him to the limestone depot. He was too young to work. At the quarries breaking stones and loading them onto the trucks; but Pritam Singh, one of the older drivers, was looking foe someone to clean and look after his truck. Nathu looked like a bright, strong boy, and he was taken on—at ten rupees a day.
That had been six months ago, and now Nathu was an experienced hand at looking after trucks, riding in them and even sleeping in them. He got on well with Pritam Singh,the grizzled,fifty year old Sikh, who had well-to-do sons in the Punjab, but whose sturdy independence kept him on the road in his battered old truck.
Pritam Singh pressed hard on his horn.Now there was no one on the road—no animals,no humans-but Pritam was fond of his horn and liked blowing it. It was music to his ears.
‘One more year on this road.’said Pritam.’Then I will sell my truck and retire.’ ‘Who will buy this truck? said Nathu. ‘It will retire before you do.’ ‘Don’t be cheeky,boy.She ‘s only twenty- years- old-there’s still a few years left in her!’ And as though to prove it, he blew his horn again.
(a)Give the meanings of each of the following as used in the passage…one word answer or a short phrase will be accepted.
(i)sturdy (ii)battered
(b) Answer the following questions in your own words:
(i) What made the goatherds curse?
(c)In not more than 40 words of your own state what made Nathu leave his village and the circumstances which led him to work for Pritam Singh
Answers
Answer:
A horn blared, shattering the silence of the mountains, and a truck came round the bend of the road. A herd of goats scattered left and right.
The goatherds cursed as a cloud of dust enveloped them, and then the truck had left them behind and was rattling along the stony, unpaved road.
At the wheel of the truck, stroking his gray mustache, sat Pritam Singh, a turbaned Sikh. It was his own truck. He did not allow anyone to drive it. Every day he made two trips to the limestone quarries, carrying truckloads of limestone back to the depot at the bottom of the hill. He was paid by the trip, and he was always anxious to get in two trips everyday
Sitting beside him was Nathu, his cleaner- boy.
Nathu was a sturdy boy, with a round cheerful face. It was difficult to guess his age.
He might have been twelve or he might have been fifteen- he did not know himself, since no one in his village tried to record his birthday—but the hard life he led probably had made him look older than his years. He belonged to the hills, but his village was so far away, on the next range.
Last year the potato crops had failed. As a result, there was no money for salt, sugar soap and flour. Nathu’s parents , small brothers and sisters had a hard time surviving on the meagre produce. There had been no rain that summer. So, Nathu had waved good-bye to his people and came down to the town in the valley to look for work. Someone directed him to the limestone depot. He was too young to work. At the quarries breaking stones and loading them onto the trucks; but Pritam Singh, one of the older drivers, was looking foe someone to clean and look after his truck. Nathu looked like a bright, strong boy, and he was taken on—at ten rupees a day.
That had been six months ago, and now Nathu was an experienced hand at looking after trucks, riding in them and even sleeping in them. He got on well with Pritam Singh,the grizzled,fifty year old Sikh, who had well-to-do sons in the Punjab, but whose sturdy independence kept him on the road in his battered old truck.
Pritam Singh pressed hard on his horn.Now there was no one on the road—no animals,no humans-but Pritam was fond of his horn and liked blowing it. It was music to his ears.
‘One more year on this road.’said Pritam.’Then I will sell my truck and retire.’ ‘Who will buy this truck? said Nathu. ‘It will retire before you do.’ ‘Don’t be cheeky,boy.She ‘s only twenty- years- old-there’s still a few years left in her!’ And as though to prove it, he blew his horn again.
Answer:
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