UGC NET English Paper III Jan 2017 with Key

UGC NET English Paper III Jan 2017 with Key

UGC NET English Paper III Jan 2017 with Key

UGC NET ENGLISH PAPER II Jan 2017 with Key

UGC NET ENGLISH PAPER II Jan 2017 with Key

UGC NET ENGLISH PAPER II Jan 2017 with Key

UGC NET Paper I Jan 2017 with Key

UGC NET Paper I Jan 2017 with Key

UGC NET Paper I Jan 2017 with Key

A Glossary of Literary Terms

A Glossary of Literary Terms

A Glossary of Literary Terms

William Wordsworth's Anecdote For Fathers

Anecdote For Fathers

                                                             - 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 intermitted 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 reason 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.

 William Wordsworth's Anecdote For Fathers    

"Anecdote For Fathers" is a poem penned by William Wordsworth. This poem is somewhat funny but also heartwarming. It is a story of a boy of five years walking along with his farm with his father and talking. The father is at first daydreaming but then changes his attention to his boy. He asks him, would you rather be here or at the shore? The boy thinks about it for a while, but then says he would rather be on the shore because there isn't a weather-cock there.

"Anecdote For Fathers" is a fifteen-stanza poem with four lines in each. The poem is rhymed as ABAB and is written in iambic tetrameter and triambic-diameter.

Context

How many times have you witnessed an artist contrast the simple wisdom of children with the folly of corrupt adults? Many artists throughout history have portrayed issues such as wars and poverty as the consequence of adults losing their youthful innocence and curiosity. One terrific example of this is William Wordsworth's poem 'Anecdote for Fathers', which was originally published in 1798 in an influential collection of poems titled Lyrical Ballads.

Lyrical Ballads marks the beginning of what is known as the Romantic era of literature. The start of Romantic literature was the end of Neoclassical literature, which had begun in 1660 and emphasised the importance of reason and logic. The Neoclassical era witnessed the birth of modern science and what is known as the Industrial Revolution, a period of technological improvement and economic growth that lasted from 1760 to around 1830. The Industrial Revolution produced larger factories and cities, and although a handful of people grew wealthy during this period, a significant part of Europe's population suffered from poverty, sickness, pollution, and poor working conditions. Romantic poets saw these social problems as evidence of the failures of the Neoclassical philosophy and poetry that emphasised reason and science.

In contrast to the Neoclassical emphasis on strict logic and reason, Romantic writers praised imagination, nature, and simplicity. Many of Wordsworth's poems, for example, are set in rural areas and portray the return to an earlier and more agrarian lifestyle as desirable. Additionally, it's fairly common to find Romantic poets depicting a more childlike perspective towards the world as a solution to the problems caused by formal reason and science.

 The ballad “Anecdote For Fathers” by William Wordsworth portrays how adults seek for more rationality and logic than children and capture how much adults can learn from children’s innocence and purity. The poem consists of 15 stanzas à 4 lines. Through this light and simple structure, the simplicity and innocence of children is underlined. The effect is further emphasised by the simple rhyme scheme abab. Moreover, in consideration of the title “Anecdote For Fathers,” it can be observed that the poem is a teaching little depiction of a situation while fulfilling the features of a true anecdote: The characterization of one or more characters, a punchline, and the concentration on the basics.
             Contentwise, the poem can be divided into three parts: The first 6 stanzas are introduction of the father including a short and simple description of his son, a mentioning of the fact that they walk and talk one morning, a reminiscence of their previous home in Kilve, and lastly a description of the setting where he and his son walk together on that morning. The following 8 stanzas are a dialogue between the two figures where the father asks his son whether he would rather live in Kilve or at Liswyn farm. When his son answers that he would rather still live in Kilve, the father does not let go of the question why until the son finally takes the first suggestion that comes into his head when he sees a weather-cock: “At Kilve there was no weather-cock” (line 55). The poem ends with a short reflection of the father upon what he can learn from his son through his simple answer.
              It is interesting that the father himself seems to prefer Kilve as a home, which can be interpreted from stanzas three and four (line 9: “My thoughts on former pleasures ran”); but then he pulls himself together to focus on the walk with his son instead of following the train of thought of his “regrets” (line 14). However, it can be assumed that he lies to himself or at least tries to suppress his longing for “Kilve’s delightful shore” (line 10) and their “pleasant home” (line 11) there. He tries to convince himself that he “could not feel a pain” (line 16) with all the good things that he has around him right then (Line 15: “With so much happiness to spare”). The repetition in lines 19 – 20 (“From shade to the sunshine (...) from sunshine (...) to shade”) suggests that he thinks that things inevitably change and that life goes on, and also those good things follow on bad things but simultaneously bad things follow on good things. Nature then seems to wake him out of his thoughts completely: Through the acknowledgement of the “birds warbl(ing) round” him, the father seems to realize that there can be joy and freedom through taking things easier, as he says “each trace of inward sadness had its charm” but comes to the conclusions that living in either place – Kilve or Liswyn farm – should be fine in the end. He sets himself confident with the present situation. Thereafter, he asks his son, where he would “rather be” (line 28), at Kilve or Liswyn farm. His son “careless(ly)” (line 32) answers that he would rather be at Kilve. The father then tediously asks why, which makes him represent most adults’ need for logical evidence and rational thinking. The son’s answer seems to be too simple for the father to understand. It also seems as if he tries to control what the boy prefers by offering him what is at Liswyn farm: “For, here are woods, hills smooth and warm” (line 41). Repeatedly, he questions the child’s answer, which is emphasised be the alliteration in line 47: “Three times to”. Through the constant questioning Edward, as he is called in line 37, feels guilty and may feel to be unable to fulfil his fathers demands; maybe he senses that he hurt or at least surprised his father, which can be interpreted line 46: “He blushed with shame.” However, the child just said what he felt, without reasoning – he just happened to feel that way. As the son senses the father’s disapproval of the answer, he tries to please him by providing the first suggestion that comes into his head when he sees a weather-cock. The weather-cock represents a scientific way of thinking and thereby logic, measurement, and reasoning, and it can be interpreted that in Liswyn, things are more controlled than at Kilve. This could be the real reason why Edward would rather live at Kilve. The father seems to be touched that “the boy (unlocked) his tongue” (line 52), a metaphor that stands for the independent decision of the boy to give an answer, even if any answer, to protect his father’s feelings which also strengthens line 4: “(...) dearly he loves me.” The father finds excellence in the child’s simple answer, even if it was just a pretence, and sees that he can learn from it: Namely that it might be sometimes better to just accept things without any reasoning.
             The poem is a great reminder for humans to listen to their spiritual intelligence instead of trying to figure out everything with logic. Wordsworth thereby suggests to accept things and let go of the need for rationalisation. It could be the key to more happiness, freedom and easiness of life, features that can also all be found in childhood.

William Wordsworth's Anecdote For Fathers 

Don Marquis's a spider and a fly

Don Marquis's 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”

Don Marquis's a spider and a fly 

In the first stanza of "The Spider and the Fly," the spider attempts to convince the fly to come up to his parlour (web), but the fly replies that those who do so never return. 

In the second stanza, the spider attempts to convince the fly how comfortable his bed is, but the fly responds that those who sleep on his bed never wake again. 

In the third stanza, the spider proclaims his affection for the fly and offers what he has in his pantry, but the fly doesn't wish to see it. 

In the fourth stanza, the spider offers flattery and a chance for the fly to look upon herself in his mirror. The fly is flattered and says she'll call on him another day. 

In the fifth stanza, the spider knows the fly was flattered, so he prepares for her arrival, believing that the fly has begun to trust him. When she returns, he flatters her again to seal the deal. 

In the sixth stanza, still enamoured with the spider's flattery, the fly gets closer and closer until the spider captures her. 

The final stanza is spoken directly to the listener, in this case, it is students. The poem is a lesson that some use flattery simply as a way to get what they want or to seduce other people. Although this is a general lesson intended for students, this poem has been interpreted as a cautionary tale for women not to be seduced by manipulative men. 

Don Marquis's a spider and a fly

Bepin Choudhary's Lapse of Memory - Satyajit Ray

BEPIN CHOUDHURY'S LAPSE OF MEMORY

-          SATYAJIT RAY

Before you read

Do you have a good memory? Has your memory ever played any tricks on you? Forgetfulness often puts you in a tight spot. But forgetting a part of your life completely may drive you crazy. In this story, Bepin Babu goes nearly crazy because he cannot recollect his stay at Ranchi. He has never been to Ranchi, he insists, though there are many witnesses to the contrary. What is the suspense all about?

I

Every Monday, on his way back from work, Bepin Choudhury would drop in at Kalicharan's in New Market to buy books. Crime stories, ghost stories and thrillers. He had to buy at least five at a time to last him through the week. He lived alone, was not a good mixer, had few friends, and didn’t like spending time in idle chat. Today, at Kalicharan’s, Bepin Babu had the feeling that someone was observing him from close quarters. He turned round and found himself looking at a round-faced, meek-looking man who now broke into a smile.

“I don’t suppose you recognise me.”

“Have we met before?” asked Bepin Babu.

The man looked greatly surprised. “We met every day for a whole week. I arranged for a car to take you to the Hudroo falls.

In 1958.  In Ranchi. My name is Parimal Ghose.” “Ranchi?”

Now Bepin Babu realised that it was not he but this man who was making a mistake. Bepin Babu had never been to Ranchi. He had been at the point of going several times but never made it. He smiled and said, “Do you know who I am?”

The man raised his eyebrows, bit his tongue and said, “Do I know you? Who doesn’t know Bepin Choudhury?”

 Bepin Babu now turned towards the bookshelves and said, “Still you’re making a mistake. One often does. I’ve never been to Ranchi.”

 The man now laughed aloud.

“What are you saying, Mr Choudhury? You had a fall in Hudroo and cut your right knee. I brought you iodine. I had fixed up a car for you to go to Netarhat the next day, but you couldn’t because of the pain in the knee. Can’t you recall anything? Someone else you know was also in Ranchi at that time. Mr Dinesh Mukerji. You stayed in a bungalow. You said you didn’t like hotel food and would prefer to have your meals cooked by a bawarchi. Mr Mukerji stayed with his sister. You had a big argument about the moon landing, remember? I’ll tell you more: you always carried a bag with your books in it on your sight-seeing trips. Am I right or not?”

 Bepin Babu spoke quietly, his eyes still on the books.

 “Which month in ’58 are you talking about?”

The man said, “October.”

“No, sir,” said Bepin Babu. “I spent Puja in ’58 with a friend in Kanpur. You’re making a mistake. Good day.”

But the man didn’t go, nor did he stop talking.

“Very strange. One evening I had tea with you in a veranda of your bungalow. You spoke about your family. You said you had no children, and that you had lost your wife ten years ago. Your only brother had died insane, which is why you didn’t want to visit the mental hospital in Ranchi...”

When Bepin Babu had paid for the books and was leaving the shop, the man was still looking at him in utter disbelief

II

Bepin Babu’s car was safely parked in Bertram Street by the Lighthouse Cinema. He told the driver as he got into the car, “Just drive by the Ganga, will you, Sitaram.” Driving up the Strand Road, Bepin Babu regretted having paid so much attention to the intruder. He had never been to Ranchi — no question about it. It was inconceivable that he should forget such an incident which took place only six or seven years ago. He had an excellent memory. Unless — Bepin Babu’s head reeled.

Was he losing his mind? But how could that be? He was working daily in his office. It was a big firm, and he was doing a responsible job. He wasn’t aware of anything ever going seriously wrong. Only today he spoke for half an hour at an important meeting. And yet...

And yet the man knew a great deal about him. How? He even seemed to know some intimate details. The bag of books, wife’s death, brother’s insanity... The only mistake was about his having gone to Ranchi. Not a mistake; a deliberate lie. In ’58, during the Pujas, he was in Kanpur at his friend Haridas Bagchi’s place. All Bepin Babu had to do was write to — no, there was no way of writing to Haridas. Bepin Babu suddenly remembered that Haridas had left with his wife for Japan some weeks ago, and he didn’t have his address. But where was the need for proof? He himself was fully aware that he hadn’t been to Ranchi — and that was that.

The river breeze was bracing, and yet a slight discomfort lingered in Bepin Babu’s mind.

 Around Hastings, Bepin Babu decided to roll up his trousers and take a look at his right knee.

 There was the mark of an old inch-long cut. It was impossible to tell when the injury had occurred.

Had he never had a fall as a boy and cut his knee? He tried to recall such an incident, but couldn’t.

Then Bepin Babu suddenly thought of Dinesh Mukerji. The man had said that Dinesh was in Ranchi at the same time. The best thing surely would be to ask him. He lived quite near — in Beninandan Street. What about going right now? But then, if he had really never been to Ranchi, what would Dinesh think if Bepin Babu asked for a confirmation? He would probably conclude Bepin Babu was going nuts. No; it would be ridiculous to ask him.

And he knew how ruthless Dinesh’s sarcasm could be.

Sipping a cold drink in his air-conditioned living room, Bepin Babu felt at ease again. Such a nuisance! Just because they have nothing else to do, they go about getting into other people’s hair.

After dinner, snuggling in bed with one of the new thrillers, Bepin Babu forgot all about the man in New Market.

Next day, in the office, Bepin Babu noticed that with every passing hour, the previous day’s encounter was occupying more and more of his mind. If the man knew so much about Bepin Babu, how could he make such a mistake about the Ranchi trip?

Just before lunch Bepin Babu decided to ring up Dinesh Mukerji. It was better to settle the question over the phone; at least the embarrassment on his face wouldn’t show. Two-Three-Five-Six-One-Six. Bepin Babu dialled the number.

“Hallo.”

“Is that Dinesh? This is Bepin here.”

“Well, well — what’s the news?”

“I just wanted to find out if you recalled an incident which took place in ’58.”

“’58? What incident?”

 “Were you in Calcutta right through that year? That’s the first thing I’ve got to know.”

“Wait just a minute... ’58... just let me check in my diary.”

For a minute there was silence. Bepin Babu could feel that his heartbeat had gone up. He was sweating a little.

 “Hallo.”

 “Yes.”

“I've got it. I’d been out twice.”

“Where?”

 “Once in February — nearby — to Krishnanagar to a nephew’s wedding. And then... but you’d know about this one. The trip to Ranchi. You were there too. That’s all. But what’s all this sleuthing about?”

“No. I just wanted to — anyway, thanks.”

Bepin Babu slammed the receiver down and gripped his head with his hands. He felt his head swimming. A chill seemed to spread over his body. There were sandwiches in his tiffin box, but he didn’t eat them. He had lost his appetite.

III

After lunchtime, Bepin Babu realised that he couldn’t possibly carry on sitting at his desk and working. This had never happened in the twenty-five years he had been with the firm. He had a reputation for being a tireless, conscientious worker. But today his head was in a whirl.

Back home at two-thirty, Bepin Babu lay down in bed and tried to gather his wits together. He knew that it was possible to lose one’s memory through an injury in the head, but he didn’t know of a single instance of someone remembering everything except one particular incident — and a fairly recent and significant one at that. He had always wanted to go to Ranchi; to have gone there, done things, and not to remember was something utterly impossible.

At seven thirty, Bepin Babu’s servant came and announced, “Chuni Babu, sir. Says it’s very important.”

 Bepin Babu knew what Chuni had come for. Chunilal had been at school with him. He’d been having a rough time lately and had been coming to see him about a job. Bepin Babu knew it was not possible to do anything for him and, in fact, told him so. But Chuni kept turning up like a bad penny.

Bepin Babu sent word that not only was it not possible for him to see Chuni now but not in several weeks.

But as soon as the servant stepped out of the room, it struck Bepin Babu that Chuni might remember something about the ’58 trip. There was no harm in asking him.

Bepin Babu hurried down the stairs and into the living room. Chuni was about to leave, but seeing Bepin Babu appear, he turned round hopefully.

Bepin Babu didn’t beat about the bush.

“Listen, Chuni - I want to ask you something. You have a good memory, and you've been seeing me off and on for a long time. Just throw your mind back and tell me - did I go to Ranchi in ’58?”

Chuni said, “’58? It must have been ’58. Or was it ’59?”

“You’re sure that I did go to Ranchi?” Chuni’s look of amazement was not unmixed with worry.

“D’ you mean you have doubts about having gone at all?”

“Did I go? Do you remember clearly?”

Chuni sat down on the sofa, fixed Bepin Babu with a long, hard stare and said, “Bepin, have you taken to drugs or something? As far as I know, you had a clean record where such things were concerned. I know that old friendship don’t mean much to you, but at least you had a good memory. You can’t really mean that you’ve forgotten about the Ranchi trip?”

Bepin Babu had to turn away from Chuni’s incredulous stare.

“Do you remember what my last job was?” asked Chunilal.

 “Of course. You worked in a travel agency.”

“You remember that and you don’t remember that it was I who fixed up your railway booking for Ranchi? I went to the station to see you off; one of the fans in your compartment was not working — I got an electrician to fix it. Have you forgotten everything? Whatever is the matter with you? You don’t look too well, you know.”

Bepin Babu sighed and shook his head.

“I’ve been working too hard,” he said at last. “That must be the reason. Must see about consulting a specialist.”

Doubtless it was Bepin’s condition which made Chunilal leave without mentioning anything about a job.

Paresh Chanda was a young physician with a pair of bright eyes and a sharp nose. He became thoughtful when he heard about Bepin Babu’s symptoms. “Look, Dr Chanda,” said Bepin Babu desperately, “You must cure me of this horrible illness. I can’t tell you how it's affecting my work.”

Dr Chanda shook his head.

“You know what, Mr Choudhury,” he said. “I’ve never had to deal with a case such as yours. Frankly, this is quite outside my field of experience. But I have one suggestion. I don’t know if it’ll work, but it’s worth a try. It can do no harm.”

Bepin Babu leant forward anxiously.

“As far as I can make out,” said Dr Chanda, “And I think you’re of the same opinion — you must have been to Ranchi, but due to some unknown reason, the entire episode has slipped out of your mind. What I suggest is that you go to Ranchi once again. The sight of the place may remind you of your trip. This is not impossible. More than that I cannot do at the moment. I’m prescribing a nerve tonic and a tranquillizer. Sleep is essential, or the symptoms will get more pronounced.”

Bepin Babu felt somewhat better the next morning.

After breakfast, he rang up his office, gave some instructions and then procured a first class ticket for Ranchi for the same evening.

IV

Getting off the train at Ranchi next morning, he realised at once that he had never been there before.

He came out of the station, took a taxi and drove around the town for a while. He realised that the streets, the buildings, the hotels, the bazaars, the Morabadi Hill — with none of these had he the slightest acquaintance. Would a trip to the Hudroo Falls help? He didn't believe so, but, at the same time, he didn't wish to leave with the feeling that he hadn’t tried enough. So he arranged for a car and left for Hudroo in the afternoon.

At five o’clock the same afternoon in Hudroo, two Gujarati gentlemen from a group of picnickers discovered Bepin Babu lying unconscious beside a boulder. When he came round, the first thing Bepin Babu said was, “I’m finished. There’s no hope left.”

Next morning, Bepin Babu was back in Calcutta. He realised that there was truly no hope for him. Soon he would lose everything: his will to work, his confidence, his ability, his balance of mind. Was he going to end up in the asylum at...? Bepin Babu couldn’t think anymore.

Back home, he rang up Dr Chanda and asked him to come over. Then, after a shower, he got into bed with an ice bag clamped on his head. Just then the servant brought him a letter which someone had left in the letter box. A greenish envelope with his name in red ink on it.

Above the name, it said ‘Urgent and Confidential’. In spite of his condition, Bepin Babu had a feeling that he ought to go through the letter. He tore open the envelope and took out the letter. This is what he read —

Dear Bepin,

I had no idea that affluence would bring about the kind of change in you that it has done. Was it so difficult for you to help out an old friend down on his luck? I have no money, so my resources are limited. What I have is imagination, a part of which I used in retribution of your unfeeling behaviour.

Well, you’ll be all right again now. A novel I’ve written is being considered by a publisher. If he likes it enough, it'll see me through the next few months.

Yours, Chunilal

When Dr Chanda came, Bepin Babu said, “I’m fine. It all came back as soon as I got off the train at Ranchi.”

“A unique case,” said Dr Chanda. “I shall certainly write about it in a medical journal.”

“The reason why I sent for you,” said Bepin Babu, “is that I have a pain in the hip from a fall I had in Ranchi. If you could prescribe a pain killer…”

Bepin Choudhary's Lapse of Memory