HORNBILL BOOK PDF
FOREWORD iii. ABOUT THE BOOK v. READING SKILLS · 1 – 86 · 1. The Portrait of a Lady · 3 · KHUSHWANT SINGH · A Photograph · 11 · SHIRLEY TOULSON. HORNBILL known her. Old, so terribly old that she could not have grown older, and had stayed at the same age for twenty years. She could never have been. Results for pdf Download Class XI hornbill CBSE NCERT English textbook NCERT Textbook Chapter 3 - Discovering Tut: the Saga Continues, Class
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Download Study Material for preparation of 11th for free. NCERT 11th CLASS BOOKS IN PDF: English(Hornbill) was published in The file is available in . Free Download NCERT Hornbill (English) Textbook for Class XI by NCERT Syllabus & Patterns PDF Online from Ncert Books. English Text book “HORNBILL” ebook for class 11, CBSE, NCERT. cittadelmonte.info READING SKILLS. Chapterpdf · Chapterpdf · Chapter
She often told us of the games she used to play as a child. He did not look the sort of person who would have a wife or children. She had always been short and fat and slightly bent. She had been old and wrinkled for the twenty years that I had known her. His long. That seemed quite absurd and undignified on her part and we treated it like the fables of the Prophets she used to tell us. He wore a big turban and loose-fitting clothes.
His long. That seemed quite absurd and undignified on her part and we treated it like the fables of the Prophets she used to tell us. He wore a big turban and loose-fitting clothes. People said that she had once been young and pretty and had even had a husband.
As for my grandmother being young and pretty. Infer their meaning from the context. He looked as if he could only have lots and lots of grandchildren. Her face was a criss-cross of wrinkles running from everywhere to everywhere. She carried several stale chapattis with her for the village dogs.
After a breakfast of a thick. Although we shared the same room. My parents left me with her when they went to live in the city and we were constantly together.
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My grandmother always went to school with me because the school was attached to the temple. She was like the winter landscape in the mountains. She could never have been pretty. She used to wake me up in the morning and get me ready for school.
I used to go to an English school in a motor bus. Then she would fetch my wooden slate which she had already washed and plastered with yellow chalk. The priest taught us the alphabet and the morning prayer. When I came back she would ask me what the teacher had.
This time the village dogs would meet us at the temple door. Her silver locks were scattered untidily over her pale. When my parents were comfortably settled in the city. They followed us to our home growling and fighting with each other for the chapattis we threw to them.
She hobbled about the house in spotless white with one hand resting on her waist to balance her stoop and the other telling the beads of her rosary. For some time she continued to wake me up and get me ready for school. When we had both finished.
There were no dogs in the streets and she took to feeding sparrows in the courtyard of our city house. She said her morning prayer in a monotonous sing-song while she bathed and dressed me in the hope that I would listen and get to know it by heart. While the children sat in rows on either side of the verandah singing the alphabet or the prayer in a chorus.
That was a turning-point in our friendship. I listened because I loved her voice but never bothered to learn it. As the years rolled by we saw less of each other. My grandmother and I were good friends.
When I went up to University. But my grandmother could.
She collected the women of the neighbourhood. But that was not so. She still had no time for words. Even on the first day of my arrival. My grandmother accepted her seclusion with resignation. Some even sat on her head. She did not pray. Only in the afternoon she relaxed for a while to feed the sparrows. I was given a room of my own. Her fingers were busy telling the beads of her rosary.
She could not help me with my lessons. The common link of friendship was snapped. To her music had lewd associations. She rarely left her spinning-wheel to talk to anyone. After five years I came back home and was met by her at the station. She said nothing but her silence meant disapproval. She did not believe in the things they taught at the English school and was distressed that there was no teaching about God and the scriptures. While she sat in the verandah breaking the bread into little bits.
It used to be the happiest halfhour of the day for her.
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She was very disturbed. Silently she kissed my forehead. For several hours she thumped the sagging. One day I announced that we were being given music lessons. Her lips moved in prayer. She smiled but never shooed them away.
From sunrise to sunset she sat by her wheel spinning and reciting prayers. She rarely talked to me after that. I would be away for five years. This made her unhappy. I was sure my grandmother would be upset. When I decided to go abroad for further studies. She did not look a day older. She was not even sentimental.
She came to leave me at the railway station but did not talk or show any emotion. Some came and perched on her legs. I would tell her English words and little things of western science and learning. It was the monopoly of harlots and beggars and not meant for gentlefolk. In the evening a change came over her. A peaceful pallor spread on her face and we knew that she was dead. We had to persuade her to stop to avoid overstraining. In the evening we went to her room with a crude stretcher to take her to be cremated.
We lifted her off the bed and. All over the verandah and in her room right up to where she lay dead and stiff wrapped in the red shroud.
English Text book “HORNBILL” ebook for class 11, CBSE, NCERT.
She told us that her end was near. It was a mild fever and the doctor told us that it would go. There was no chirruping. Even before we could suspect. She said that. We protested. The next morning she was taken ill. But my grandmother thought differently.
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After a few hours of mourning we left her alone to make arrangements for her funeral. We felt sorry for the birds and my mother fetched some bread for them. We stopped half-way in the courtyard. She broke it into little crumbs. Secondary Punjab Sr. Related posts: It is also a very good platform for teachers who want to share their valuable knowledge. Mostafizur Rahaman says: April 30, at 7: May 2, at Jahangir Alam says: March 15, at 5: April 17, at 7: Amalendu Mitra says: September 1, at 9: Anonymous says: November 21, at 7: May 22, at Ash says: July 8, at Elon Musk says: March 6, at 6: Anupam kumar says: June 14, at 2: March 6, at Nishita Roy says: