IIFT 2012

Directions 01 to 05: Analyse the following chart showing the exports and imports of Sono Ltd. and answer the questions based on this chart:

Approximately by what percentage are the total Exports greater/ smaller than the total imports for the given period?

Directions 01 to 05: Analyse the following chart showing the exports and imports of Sono Ltd. and answer the questions based on this chart:

If the absolute difference between imports and exports are ranked in ascending order, which year gets 4th rank?

Directions 01 to 05: Analyse the following chart showing the exports and imports of Sono Ltd. and answer the questions based on this chart:

In which year was the fifth largest annual percentage increase in exports recorded?

Directions 01 to 05: Analyse the following chart showing the exports and imports of Sono Ltd. and answer the questions based on this chart:

Which year saw the second largest annual percentage increase in imports?

Directions 01 to 05: Analyse the following chart showing the exports and imports of Sono Ltd. and answer the questions based on this chart:

What is the approximate percentage point difference in the maximum annual percentage increase in export and the minimum annual percentage decrease in Imports?

Directions for Q.6 to Q.11: Answer the questions on the basis of the table given below Table: Production of Major Minerals and Metals (Million Tonnes)

Which mineral/metal witnessed highest growth rate in production from 2005 to 2011?

Directions for Q.6 to Q.11: Answer the questions on the basis of the table given below Table: Production of Major Minerals and Metals (Million Tonnes)

Which year has witnessed highest absolute increase in total production of minerals and metals?

Directions for Q.6 to Q.11: Answer the questions on the basis of the table given below Table: Production of Major Minerals and Metals (Million Tonnes)

Highest annual growth rate in production is recorded in

Directions for Q.6 to Q.11: Answer the questions on the basis of the table given below Table: Production of Major Minerals and Metals (Million Tonnes)

If annual average growth rate in production exhibited during 2006 to 2011 continues for next 4 years, then what will be the approximate production of aluminium in the year 2015?

Directions for Q.6 to Q.11: Answer the questions on the basis of the table given below Table: Production of Major Minerals and Metals (Million Tonnes)

In which year is the proportion of copper production in the total mineral and metal production the highest?

Directions for Q.6 to Q.11: Answer the questions on the basis of the table given below Table: Production of Major Minerals and Metals (Million Tonnes)

Which mineral/metal witnessed the minimum growth rate in production from 2006 to 2010?

Directions for Q.12 to Q.14: Answer the questions on the basis of the following table.
Table : Region Wise Origin of Foreign Tourists Arriving Into India

Which region witnessed the highest compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of tourists arriving into India?

Directions for Q.12 to Q.14: Answer the questions on the basis of the following table.
Table : Region Wise Origin of Foreign Tourists Arriving Into India

Tourists arriving into India from how many regions experienced CAGR of more than 10%?

Directions for Q.12 to Q.14: Answer the questions on the basis of the following table.
Table : Region Wise Origin of Foreign Tourists Arriving Into India

The highest annual growth rate recorded in tourists arriving from any region in any year is

Directions for Q.15 to Q.17: Read the information given below, analyse the following chart of Domestic sales and production of a country and answer the questions
Following charts present data about the domestic sales and production of LCD, LED and Plasma TVs produced and sold in a country (in number of units). Differences in production and sales will be bridged through external trade (i.e. exports and imports) of the TV category during a given year.

What year has registered the highest external trade in total number of TV units?

Directions for Q.15 to Q.17: Read the information given below, analyse the following chart of Domestic sales and production of a country and answer the questions
Following charts present data about the domestic sales and production of LCD, LED and Plasma TVs produced and sold in a country (in number of units). Differences in production and sales will be bridged through external trade (i.e. exports and imports) of the TV category during a given year.

In which year are the net exports (exports - imports) of all the categories taken together the highest?

Directions for Q.15 to Q.17: Read the information given below, analyse the following chart of Domestic sales and production of a country and answer the questions
Following charts present data about the domestic sales and production of LCD, LED and Plasma TVs produced and sold in a country (in number of units). Differences in production and sales will be bridged through external trade (i.e. exports and imports) of the TV category during a given year.

Examine the following statements
I. LCD TVs were always exported
II. Net exports of all the categories of TVs for all the years is 1275
III. In only one year the production of plasma TVs fell short of sales Select the best option

Directions for Q.18 and Q.19 :  Study the following pie charts regarding to sales of 5 models of cars for the years 2010 and 2011, and answer the question.

If the 2010 sales for all car models is 80,000 and these have grown by 25% in 2011, then what is the approximate increase in the number of Figo cars sold in 2011 over 2010?

Directions for Q.18 and Q.19 :  Study the following pie charts regarding to sales of 5 models of cars for the years 2010 and 2011, and answer the question.

If the 2010 sales for all car models is 80,000 and these have grown by 25% in 2011, then how many models have grown more than the average growth rate for all the models taken together?

If k is an integer and 0.0010101 × 10^k is greater than 1000, what is the least possible value of k?

Ashish is studying late into the night and is hungry. He opens his mother’s snack cupboard without switching on the lights, knowing that his mother has kept 10 packets of chips and biscuits in the cupboard. He pulls out 3 packets from the cupboard, and all of them turn out to be chips. What is the probability that the snack cupboard contains 1 packet of biscuits and 9 packets of chips?

The equation 7^x−1 + 11^x−1 = 170 has

The annual production in cement industry is subject to business cycles. The production increases for two consecutive years consistently by 18% and decreases by 12% in the third year. Again in the next two years, it increases by 18% each year and decreases by 12% in the third year. Talking 2008 as the base year, what will be the approximate effect on cement production in 2012?

If log 3, log(3^x − 2) and log(3^x + 4) are in arithmetic progression, then x is equal to

A student is required to answer 6 out of 10 questions in an examination. The questions are divided into two groups, each containing 5 questions. She is not allowed to attempt more than 4 questions from each group. The number of different ways in which the student can choose the 6 questions is

The answer sheets of 5 engineering students can be checked by any one of 9 professors. What is the probability that all the 5 answer sheets are checked by exactly 2 professors?

Mr. Mishra invested Rs.25,000 in two fixed deposits X and Y offering compound interest @ 6% per annum and 8% per annum respectively. If the total amount of interest accrued in two years through both fixed deposits is Rs.3518, the amount invested in Scheme X is

The probability that in a household LPG will last 60 days or more is 0.8 and that it will last at most 90 days is 0.6. The probability that the LPG will last 60 to 90 days is

In 2011, Plasma - a pharmaceutical company - allocated for Research and Development. In 2012, the company allocated Rs.60,000,000 for Research and Development. If each year the funds are evenly divided among departments, how much more will each department receive this year than it did last year?

In a circular field, there is a rectangular tank of length 130 m and breadth 110 m. If the area of the land portion of the field is 20350 m sq. then the radius of the field is

A hemispherical bowl is filled with hot water to the brim. The contents of the bowl are transferred into a cylindrical vessel whose radius is 50% more than its height. If diameter of the bowl is the same as that of the vessel, the volume of the hot water in the cylindrical vessel is

There are two buildings, one on each bank of a river, opposite to each other. From the top of one building - 60 m high, the angles of depression of the top and the foot of the other building are 30° and 60° respectively. What is the height of the other building?

It takes 15 seconds for a train travelling at 60 km/hour to cross entirely another train half its length and travelling in opposite direction at 48 km/hour. It also passes a bridge in 51 seconds. The length of the bridge is

12 men can complete a work in ten days. 20 women can complete the same work in twelve days. 8 men and 4 women started working and after nine days 10 more women joined them. How many days will they now take to complete the remaining work?

The Howrah-Puri express can move at 45 km/hour without its rake, and the speed is diminished by a constant that varies as the square root of the number of wagons attached. If it is known that with 9 wagons, the speed is 30 km/hour, what is the greatest number of wagons with which the train can just move?

At a reputed Engineering College in India, total expenses of a trimester are partly fixed and partly varying linearly with the number of students. The average expense per student is Rs.400 when there are 20 students and Rs.300 when there are 40 students. When there are 80 students, what is the average expense per student?

Rohit bought 20 soaps and 12 toothpastes. He marked-up the soaps by 15% on the cost price of each, and the toothpastes by Rs.20 on the cost price each. He sold 75% of the soaps and 8 toothpastes and made a profit of Rs.385. If the cost of a toothpaste is 60% the cost of a soap and he got no return on unsold items, what was his overall profit or loss?

The unit digit in the product of (8267)¹⁵³ × (341)⁷² is

Z is the product of first 31 natural numbers. If X = Z + 1, then the numbers of primes among X + 1, X + 2, ..., X + 29, X + 30 is

A 10 litre cylinder contains a mixture of water and sugar, the volume of sugar being 15% of total volume. A few litres of the mixture is released and an equal amount of water is added. Then the same amount of the mixture as before is released and replaced with water for a second time. As a result, the sugar content becomes 10% of total volume. What is the approximate quantity of mixture released each time?

Eight points lie on the circumference of a circle. The difference between the number of triangles and the number of quadrilaterals that can be formed by connecting these points is

The perimeter of a right-angled triangle measures 234 m and the hypotenuse measures 97 m. Then the other two sides of the triangle are measured as

A sum of Rs.1400 is divided amongst A, B, C and D such that A’s share : B’s share = B’s share : C’s share = C’s share = D’s share = 3/4 how much is C’s share?

Directions for Q.45 and Q.46: A number of sentences are given below, which when properly sequenced, form a coherent paragraph. Choose the most logical order of sentences from the choice given to construct a coherent paragraph.

I. Have you ever gone through a book that was so good you kept hugging yourself mentally as you read?
II. Now, notice the examples I have used
III. Have you ever seen a play or motion picture that was so charming that you felt sheer delight as you watched?
IV. I have not spoken of books that grip you emotionally, of plays and movies that keep you on the edge of your seat in surprise, or of food that satisfies a ravenous hunger.
V. Or perhaps you have had a portion of pumpkin pie, light and airy and mildly flavoured, and with a flaky, delicious crust, that was the last word in gustatory enjoyment?

Directions for Q.45 and Q.46: A number of sentences are given below, which when properly sequenced, form a coherent paragraph. Choose the most logical order of sentences from the choice given to construct a coherent paragraph.

I. All these help hasten download and optimize the farmer’s usage of the internet within the available bandwidth.
II. ITC has learnt invaluable lessons from finding creative local solutions on the ground, to some of these apparently intractable problems.
III. Solutions include the use of RNS kits in the telephone exchanges or, setting up VSAT to tide over connectivity problems, and using solar power as the back-up source of electricity.
IV. It has also adopted special imaging techniques.
V. It has applied the template approach to manage content.

Directions for Q.47 and Q.48: In each question, a sentence is written in four different ways. Choose the option which gives the most effective and grammatically correct sentence. Pay attention to grammar, word choice and sentence construction.

Directions for Q.47 and Q.48: In each question, a sentence is written in four different ways. Choose the option which gives the most effective and grammatically correct sentence. Pay attention to grammar, word choice and sentence construction.

Directions for Q.49 and Q.50: Choose the option which gives the correct meaning in the same order as the words.

Directions for Q.49 and Q.50: Choose the option which gives the correct meaning in the same order as the words.

Directions for Q.51 to Q.52: Each question has five sentences. Identify the sentence which is grammatically correct.

Directions for Q.51 to Q.52: Each question has five sentences. Identify the sentence which is grammatically correct.

Which of the following is a metaphor?

Which of the following is an oxymoron?

Directions for Q.55 and Q.56: Pick the correct antonym for the word given:

PUERILE

Directions for Q.55 and Q.56: Pick the correct antonym for the word given:

PROSAIC

Directions for Q.57 and Q.58: Pick the word with the correct spelling

Directions for Q.57 and Q.58: Pick the word with the correct spelling

Directions for Q.59 and Q.60 : Pick the odd word out:

Directions for Q.59 and Q.60 : Pick the odd word out:

Directions for Q.61 to Q.64: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.
The first thing I learned at school was that some people are idiots; the second thing I learned was that some are even worse. I was still too young to grasp that people of breeding were meant to affect innocence of this fundamental distinction. and that the same courtesy applied to any disparity that might rise out of religious. racial, sexual class, financial and (latterly) cultural difference. So in my innocence I would raise my hand every time the teacher asked a question, just to make it clear I knew the answer.

After some months of this, the teacher and my classmates must have been vaguely aware I was a good student, but still I felt the compulsion to raise my hand. By now the teacher seldom called on me, preferring to give other children a chance to speak, too. Still my hand shot up without my even willing it, whether or not l knew the answer. If I was putting on airs, like someone who even in ordinary clothes, adds a gaudy piece of jewellery, it’s also true that I admired my teacher and was desperate to cooperate.

Another thing I was happy to discover at school was the teacher’s ‘authority’. At home, in the crowded and disordered Pamuk Apartments, things were never so clear; at our crowded table, everyone talked at the same time. Our domestic routines, our love for one another, our conversations, meals and radio hours; these 'were never debated — they just happened. My father held little obvious authority at home, and he was often absent. He never scolded my brother or me, never even raised his eyebrows in disapproval. In later years, he would introduce us to his friends as ‘my two younger brothers’, and we felt he had earned the right to say so. My mother was the only authority I recognised at home. But she was hardly a distant or alien tyrant: her power came from my desire to be loved by her. And so - I was fascinated by the power my teacher wielded over her twenty-five pupils.

Perhaps I identified my teacher with my mother, for I had an insatiable desire for her approval. ‘Join your arms together like this and sit down quietly,’ she would say, and I would press my arms against my chest and sit patiently all through the lesson. But gradually the novelty wore off; soon it was no longer exciting to have every answer or solve an arithmetic problem ahead of everyone else or earn the highest mark; time began to flow with painful slowness, or stop flowing altogether.

Turning away from the fat, half-witted girl who was writing on the blackboard, who gave everyone — teachers, school caretakers and her classmates — the same vapid, trusting smile, my eyes would float to the window, to the upper branches of the chestnut tree that I could just see rising up between the apartment buildings. A crow would land on a branch. Because I was viewing it from below, I could see the little cloud floating behind it — as it moved, it kept changing shape: first a fox’s nose, then a head, then a dog. I didn’t want it to stop looking like a dog, but as it It was exciting, though sometimes painful, to get to know my classmates as individuals, and to find out how different they were from me. There was that sad boy who, whenever he was asked to read out loud in Turkish class, would skip every other line; the poor boy’s mistake was as involuntary as the laughter it would elicit from the class. In first grade, there was a girl who kept her red hair in a ponytail, who sat next to me for a time. Although her bag was a slovenly jumble of half-eaten apples, simits, sesame seeds, pencils and hair bands, it always smelled of dried lavender around her, and that attracted me; I was also drawn to her for speaking so openly about the little taboos of daily life, and if I didn’t see her at the weekend, I missed her, though there was another girl so tiny and delicate that I was utterly entranced by her as well. Why did that boy keep on telling lies even knowing no one was going to believe him‘? How could that girl be so indiscreet about the goings-on in her house? And could this other girl be shedding real tears as she read that poem about Ataturk?'

Just as I was in the habit of looking at the fronts of cars and seeing noses, so too did I like to scrutinise my classmates, looking for the creatures they resembled. The boy with the pointed nose was a fox and the big one next to him was, as everyone said, a bear, and the one with the thick hair was a hedgehog... I remember a Jewish girl called Mari telling us all about Passover — there were days when no one in her grandmother’s house was allowed to touch the light switches. Another girl reported that one evening, when she was in her room, she turned around so fast she glimpsed the shadow of an angel — a fearsome story that stayed with me. There was a girl with very long legs who wore very long socks and always looked as if she was about to cry; her father was a government minister and when he died in a plane crash from which Prime Minister Menederes emerged without a scratch, I was sure she’d been crying because she had known in advance what was going to happen. Lots of children had problems with their teeth; a few wore braces. On the top floor of the building that housed the lycée dormitory and the sports hall, just next to the infirmary, there was rumoured to be a dentist, and when teachers got angry they would often threaten to send naughty children there. For lesser infractions pupils were made to stand in the corner between the blackboard and the door with their backs to the class, sometimes one leg, but because we were all so curious to see how long someone could stand on one leg, the lessons suffered, so this particular punishment was rare.

The synonym for the term ‘vapid’ is

Directions for Q.61 to Q.64: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.
The first thing I learned at school was that some people are idiots; the second thing I learned was that some are even worse. I was still too young to grasp that people of breeding were meant to affect innocence of this fundamental distinction. and that the same courtesy applied to any disparity that might rise out of religious. racial, sexual class, financial and (latterly) cultural difference. So in my innocence I would raise my hand every time the teacher asked a question, just to make it clear I knew the answer.

After some months of this, the teacher and my classmates must have been vaguely aware I was a good student, but still I felt the compulsion to raise my hand. By now the teacher seldom called on me, preferring to give other children a chance to speak, too. Still my hand shot up without my even willing it, whether or not l knew the answer. If I was putting on airs, like someone who even in ordinary clothes, adds a gaudy piece of jewellery, it’s also true that I admired my teacher and was desperate to cooperate.

Another thing I was happy to discover at school was the teacher’s ‘authority’. At home, in the crowded and disordered Pamuk Apartments, things were never so clear; at our crowded table, everyone talked at the same time. Our domestic routines, our love for one another, our conversations, meals and radio hours; these 'were never debated — they just happened. My father held little obvious authority at home, and he was often absent. He never scolded my brother or me, never even raised his eyebrows in disapproval. In later years, he would introduce us to his friends as ‘my two younger brothers’, and we felt he had earned the right to say so. My mother was the only authority I recognised at home. But she was hardly a distant or alien tyrant: her power came from my desire to be loved by her. And so - I was fascinated by the power my teacher wielded over her twenty-five pupils.

Perhaps I identified my teacher with my mother, for I had an insatiable desire for her approval. ‘Join your arms together like this and sit down quietly,’ she would say, and I would press my arms against my chest and sit patiently all through the lesson. But gradually the novelty wore off; soon it was no longer exciting to have every answer or solve an arithmetic problem ahead of everyone else or earn the highest mark; time began to flow with painful slowness, or stop flowing altogether.

Turning away from the fat, half-witted girl who was writing on the blackboard, who gave everyone — teachers, school caretakers and her classmates — the same vapid, trusting smile, my eyes would float to the window, to the upper branches of the chestnut tree that I could just see rising up between the apartment buildings. A crow would land on a branch. Because I was viewing it from below, I could see the little cloud floating behind it — as it moved, it kept changing shape: first a fox’s nose, then a head, then a dog. I didn’t want it to stop looking like a dog, but as it It was exciting, though sometimes painful, to get to know my classmates as individuals, and to find out how different they were from me. There was that sad boy who, whenever he was asked to read out loud in Turkish class, would skip every other line; the poor boy’s mistake was as involuntary as the laughter it would elicit from the class. In first grade, there was a girl who kept her red hair in a ponytail, who sat next to me for a time. Although her bag was a slovenly jumble of half-eaten apples, simits, sesame seeds, pencils and hair bands, it always smelled of dried lavender around her, and that attracted me; I was also drawn to her for speaking so openly about the little taboos of daily life, and if I didn’t see her at the weekend, I missed her, though there was another girl so tiny and delicate that I was utterly entranced by her as well. Why did that boy keep on telling lies even knowing no one was going to believe him‘? How could that girl be so indiscreet about the goings-on in her house? And could this other girl be shedding real tears as she read that poem about Ataturk?'

Just as I was in the habit of looking at the fronts of cars and seeing noses, so too did I like to scrutinise my classmates, looking for the creatures they resembled. The boy with the pointed nose was a fox and the big one next to him was, as everyone said, a bear, and the one with the thick hair was a hedgehog... I remember a Jewish girl called Mari telling us all about Passover — there were days when no one in her grandmother’s house was allowed to touch the light switches. Another girl reported that one evening, when she was in her room, she turned around so fast she glimpsed the shadow of an angel — a fearsome story that stayed with me. There was a girl with very long legs who wore very long socks and always looked as if she was about to cry; her father was a government minister and when he died in a plane crash from which Prime Minister Menederes emerged without a scratch, I was sure she’d been crying because she had known in advance what was going to happen. Lots of children had problems with their teeth; a few wore braces. On the top floor of the building that housed the lycée dormitory and the sports hall, just next to the infirmary, there was rumoured to be a dentist, and when teachers got angry they would often threaten to send naughty children there. For lesser infractions pupils were made to stand in the corner between the blackboard and the door with their backs to the class, sometimes one leg, but because we were all so curious to see how long someone could stand on one leg, the lessons suffered, so this particular punishment was rare.

Who is the least talked about character in this passage?

Directions for Q.61 to Q.64: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.
The first thing I learned at school was that some people are idiots; the second thing I learned was that some are even worse. I was still too young to grasp that people of breeding were meant to affect innocence of this fundamental distinction. and that the same courtesy applied to any disparity that might rise out of religious. racial, sexual class, financial and (latterly) cultural difference. So in my innocence I would raise my hand every time the teacher asked a question, just to make it clear I knew the answer.

After some months of this, the teacher and my classmates must have been vaguely aware I was a good student, but still I felt the compulsion to raise my hand. By now the teacher seldom called on me, preferring to give other children a chance to speak, too. Still my hand shot up without my even willing it, whether or not l knew the answer. If I was putting on airs, like someone who even in ordinary clothes, adds a gaudy piece of jewellery, it’s also true that I admired my teacher and was desperate to cooperate.

Another thing I was happy to discover at school was the teacher’s ‘authority’. At home, in the crowded and disordered Pamuk Apartments, things were never so clear; at our crowded table, everyone talked at the same time. Our domestic routines, our love for one another, our conversations, meals and radio hours; these 'were never debated — they just happened. My father held little obvious authority at home, and he was often absent. He never scolded my brother or me, never even raised his eyebrows in disapproval. In later years, he would introduce us to his friends as ‘my two younger brothers’, and we felt he had earned the right to say so. My mother was the only authority I recognised at home. But she was hardly a distant or alien tyrant: her power came from my desire to be loved by her. And so - I was fascinated by the power my teacher wielded over her twenty-five pupils.

Perhaps I identified my teacher with my mother, for I had an insatiable desire for her approval. ‘Join your arms together like this and sit down quietly,’ she would say, and I would press my arms against my chest and sit patiently all through the lesson. But gradually the novelty wore off; soon it was no longer exciting to have every answer or solve an arithmetic problem ahead of everyone else or earn the highest mark; time began to flow with painful slowness, or stop flowing altogether.

Turning away from the fat, half-witted girl who was writing on the blackboard, who gave everyone — teachers, school caretakers and her classmates — the same vapid, trusting smile, my eyes would float to the window, to the upper branches of the chestnut tree that I could just see rising up between the apartment buildings. A crow would land on a branch. Because I was viewing it from below, I could see the little cloud floating behind it — as it moved, it kept changing shape: first a fox’s nose, then a head, then a dog. I didn’t want it to stop looking like a dog, but as it It was exciting, though sometimes painful, to get to know my classmates as individuals, and to find out how different they were from me. There was that sad boy who, whenever he was asked to read out loud in Turkish class, would skip every other line; the poor boy’s mistake was as involuntary as the laughter it would elicit from the class. In first grade, there was a girl who kept her red hair in a ponytail, who sat next to me for a time. Although her bag was a slovenly jumble of half-eaten apples, simits, sesame seeds, pencils and hair bands, it always smelled of dried lavender around her, and that attracted me; I was also drawn to her for speaking so openly about the little taboos of daily life, and if I didn’t see her at the weekend, I missed her, though there was another girl so tiny and delicate that I was utterly entranced by her as well. Why did that boy keep on telling lies even knowing no one was going to believe him‘? How could that girl be so indiscreet about the goings-on in her house? And could this other girl be shedding real tears as she read that poem about Ataturk?'

Just as I was in the habit of looking at the fronts of cars and seeing noses, so too did I like to scrutinise my classmates, looking for the creatures they resembled. The boy with the pointed nose was a fox and the big one next to him was, as everyone said, a bear, and the one with the thick hair was a hedgehog... I remember a Jewish girl called Mari telling us all about Passover — there were days when no one in her grandmother’s house was allowed to touch the light switches. Another girl reported that one evening, when she was in her room, she turned around so fast she glimpsed the shadow of an angel — a fearsome story that stayed with me. There was a girl with very long legs who wore very long socks and always looked as if she was about to cry; her father was a government minister and when he died in a plane crash from which Prime Minister Menederes emerged without a scratch, I was sure she’d been crying because she had known in advance what was going to happen. Lots of children had problems with their teeth; a few wore braces. On the top floor of the building that housed the lycée dormitory and the sports hall, just next to the infirmary, there was rumoured to be a dentist, and when teachers got angry they would often threaten to send naughty children there. For lesser infractions pupils were made to stand in the corner between the blackboard and the door with their backs to the class, sometimes one leg, but because we were all so curious to see how long someone could stand on one leg, the lessons suffered, so this particular punishment was rare.

Which among the following cannot be concluded from this passage?

Directions for Q.61 to Q.64: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.
The first thing I learned at school was that some people are idiots; the second thing I learned was that some are even worse. I was still too young to grasp that people of breeding were meant to affect innocence of this fundamental distinction. and that the same courtesy applied to any disparity that might rise out of religious. racial, sexual class, financial and (latterly) cultural difference. So in my innocence I would raise my hand every time the teacher asked a question, just to make it clear I knew the answer.

After some months of this, the teacher and my classmates must have been vaguely aware I was a good student, but still I felt the compulsion to raise my hand. By now the teacher seldom called on me, preferring to give other children a chance to speak, too. Still my hand shot up without my even willing it, whether or not l knew the answer. If I was putting on airs, like someone who even in ordinary clothes, adds a gaudy piece of jewellery, it’s also true that I admired my teacher and was desperate to cooperate.

Another thing I was happy to discover at school was the teacher’s ‘authority’. At home, in the crowded and disordered Pamuk Apartments, things were never so clear; at our crowded table, everyone talked at the same time. Our domestic routines, our love for one another, our conversations, meals and radio hours; these 'were never debated — they just happened. My father held little obvious authority at home, and he was often absent. He never scolded my brother or me, never even raised his eyebrows in disapproval. In later years, he would introduce us to his friends as ‘my two younger brothers’, and we felt he had earned the right to say so. My mother was the only authority I recognised at home. But she was hardly a distant or alien tyrant: her power came from my desire to be loved by her. And so - I was fascinated by the power my teacher wielded over her twenty-five pupils.

Perhaps I identified my teacher with my mother, for I had an insatiable desire for her approval. ‘Join your arms together like this and sit down quietly,’ she would say, and I would press my arms against my chest and sit patiently all through the lesson. But gradually the novelty wore off; soon it was no longer exciting to have every answer or solve an arithmetic problem ahead of everyone else or earn the highest mark; time began to flow with painful slowness, or stop flowing altogether.

Turning away from the fat, half-witted girl who was writing on the blackboard, who gave everyone — teachers, school caretakers and her classmates — the same vapid, trusting smile, my eyes would float to the window, to the upper branches of the chestnut tree that I could just see rising up between the apartment buildings. A crow would land on a branch. Because I was viewing it from below, I could see the little cloud floating behind it — as it moved, it kept changing shape: first a fox’s nose, then a head, then a dog. I didn’t want it to stop looking like a dog, but as it It was exciting, though sometimes painful, to get to know my classmates as individuals, and to find out how different they were from me. There was that sad boy who, whenever he was asked to read out loud in Turkish class, would skip every other line; the poor boy’s mistake was as involuntary as the laughter it would elicit from the class. In first grade, there was a girl who kept her red hair in a ponytail, who sat next to me for a time. Although her bag was a slovenly jumble of half-eaten apples, simits, sesame seeds, pencils and hair bands, it always smelled of dried lavender around her, and that attracted me; I was also drawn to her for speaking so openly about the little taboos of daily life, and if I didn’t see her at the weekend, I missed her, though there was another girl so tiny and delicate that I was utterly entranced by her as well. Why did that boy keep on telling lies even knowing no one was going to believe him‘? How could that girl be so indiscreet about the goings-on in her house? And could this other girl be shedding real tears as she read that poem about Ataturk?'

Just as I was in the habit of looking at the fronts of cars and seeing noses, so too did I like to scrutinise my classmates, looking for the creatures they resembled. The boy with the pointed nose was a fox and the big one next to him was, as everyone said, a bear, and the one with the thick hair was a hedgehog... I remember a Jewish girl called Mari telling us all about Passover — there were days when no one in her grandmother’s house was allowed to touch the light switches. Another girl reported that one evening, when she was in her room, she turned around so fast she glimpsed the shadow of an angel — a fearsome story that stayed with me. There was a girl with very long legs who wore very long socks and always looked as if she was about to cry; her father was a government minister and when he died in a plane crash from which Prime Minister Menederes emerged without a scratch, I was sure she’d been crying because she had known in advance what was going to happen. Lots of children had problems with their teeth; a few wore braces. On the top floor of the building that housed the lycée dormitory and the sports hall, just next to the infirmary, there was rumoured to be a dentist, and when teachers got angry they would often threaten to send naughty children there. For lesser infractions pupils were made to stand in the corner between the blackboard and the door with their backs to the class, sometimes one leg, but because we were all so curious to see how long someone could stand on one leg, the lessons suffered, so this particular punishment was rare.

What did the teachers do when they get angry?

Directions for Q.65 to Q.98: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.
Not many people saw it coming. It had seemed that the time for Kaun Banega Crorepati had come and gone. This column argued as much a few years ago, when Shah Rukh Khan took over the reins of the show. He did well enough, but it still seemed that the time for the genteel game of knowledge had passed. There was too much blood in reality television, and KBC simply did not have enough platelets for it. It had no backbiting intrigue, it lacked a cast of almost-losers and missed the low-life loquaciousness of other reality shows, and nothing ever needed to be beeped out on it, a sure sign that it was out of touch with the times.

And yet, not only is KBC back, but it is back in a very real sense not just as a TV show that gets good ratings, but as an idea that connects with something deep and real in our lives. What makes this particularly interesting is that not very much has changed in the show. Its focus has shifted to smaller towns and an ‘aadmi’ more ‘aam’, and the prize money has gone up over the years, but these are minor adjustments, not major departures. The format is pretty much the same and the return of Amitabh Bachchan restores to the show both the gravitas and the empathy that has been its hallmark.

Perhaps KBC works because it reconciles many competing ideas for us. For a show that bestows undreamt of wealth on people who win, and does so with reasonable regularity, KBC manages somehow to rise above the money it throws around. By locating money squarely in the context of small dreams, family and community, KBC shows us a face of money that is ennobling. The money of KBC is treated not as a jackpot but as a 'vardaan', a gift from divinity that comes as a reward for one’s persistent effort, a prize for the penance called ordinary life. The images that surround the winners are not big cars and fancy brands, but houses made 'pukka' and IAS dreams pursued. The winners have been remarkable ambassadors for the show, focusing not what the money buys them but what it enables them to work at in the future. Money speaks in the language of responsibility, not indulgence and steeps a larger collective in its pleasing warmth.

The format of the show ensures that we see people as they are, rather than the usual sight of raw innocents gradually losing their transparent naivete in a haze of hair dye and exfoliation. On other reality shows, fame and money are insistent in transforming those that they favour and what they tell us is that success must put distance between destination and source, between who we are and what we must become. On KBC, it is the innocence that is spoken to and as an audience, it is this quality we respond to. When a Sushil Kumar describes his life and attributes his success to his wife, who in turn is quick to shyly shrug off the credit, we see, for once, something that smacks of the real on a reality show.

As the reality show evolved, it found reality too boring and vapid. It was so much for fun to manufacture it by making people act in unpleasant ways, and say unsavoury things to each other. Now, no reality show can really bring us reality; any act of representation and framing creates its own version of reality in many different ways-by aestheticizing it, emotionalising moments, dramatising revelations, withholding information selectively, or by imbuing some moments with significance while ignoring others and even KBC uses these techniques. The difference is that it uses these to drive us towards the central premise of the show rather than see those as individual ‘masala’ elements. In a world where television is racked by anxiety about itself, and where every new season is an exercise in renewed desperation, KBC stands apart by trusting itself and its viewers and by continuing to tell a human story about dreams and their fulfilment and doing so without trying too hard.

There is no question that KBC rests on the persona of Amitabh Bachchan for he reconciles for us the ideas of fame and humility, of achievement and empathy in the way he treats the participants. He has a special ability to look into the ordinary and find something special and the humility to be awed by it. He is simultaneously The Amitabh Bachchan, the wax God who we touch and squeal when we find out that it is real and a fellow sympathiser and co-traveller on the journey called life. As a carrier of life-altering destiny, he underplays his role to perfection, acknowledging the enormity of what winning means for the participant while revealing the wisdom that knows that it is only money. Under his steerage money is no longer cold with acquisitive urgency but warm with unfolding possibility.

KBC shows us, close-up and in slow motion, the act of a miracle colliding with a dream. In doing so, it tells us that money can change things for the better, when it finds the right home. By applying good fortune to good intention, it keeps the miracle alive, well after the moment of impact. As the winners no doubt find out, one can never have enough money, and that relative scale makes everyone a relative pauper. In the final analysis, Kaun Banega Crorepati reveals both the nobility and the eventual poverty of money, no matter if it comes in eight figures.

According to the author’s opinion a few years before writing this article, which of the following appeared to be in store for KBC?
i. The show’s time was over
ii. The show was too refined to compete with other reality shows
iii. Shah Rukh Khan as the show host would take it to new heights
iv. The show’s viciousness was leading it, to its end

Directions for Q.65 to Q.98: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.
Not many people saw it coming. It had seemed that the time for Kaun Banega Crorepati had come and gone. This column argued as much a few years ago, when Shah Rukh Khan took over the reins of the show. He did well enough, but it still seemed that the time for the genteel game of knowledge had passed. There was too much blood in reality television, and KBC simply did not have enough platelets for it. It had no backbiting intrigue, it lacked a cast of almost-losers and missed the low-life loquaciousness of other reality shows, and nothing ever needed to be beeped out on it, a sure sign that it was out of touch with the times.

And yet, not only is KBC back, but it is back in a very real sense not just as a TV show that gets good ratings, but as an idea that connects with something deep and real in our lives. What makes this particularly interesting is that not very much has changed in the show. Its focus has shifted to smaller towns and an ‘aadmi’ more ‘aam’, and the prize money has gone up over the years, but these are minor adjustments, not major departures. The format is pretty much the same and the return of Amitabh Bachchan restores to the show both the gravitas and the empathy that has been its hallmark.

Perhaps KBC works because it reconciles many competing ideas for us. For a show that bestows undreamt of wealth on people who win, and does so with reasonable regularity, KBC manages somehow to rise above the money it throws around. By locating money squarely in the context of small dreams, family and community, KBC shows us a face of money that is ennobling. The money of KBC is treated not as a jackpot but as a 'vardaan', a gift from divinity that comes as a reward for one’s persistent effort, a prize for the penance called ordinary life. The images that surround the winners are not big cars and fancy brands, but houses made 'pukka' and IAS dreams pursued. The winners have been remarkable ambassadors for the show, focusing not what the money buys them but what it enables them to work at in the future. Money speaks in the language of responsibility, not indulgence and steeps a larger collective in its pleasing warmth.

The format of the show ensures that we see people as they are, rather than the usual sight of raw innocents gradually losing their transparent naivete in a haze of hair dye and exfoliation. On other reality shows, fame and money are insistent in transforming those that they favour and what they tell us is that success must put distance between destination and source, between who we are and what we must become. On KBC, it is the innocence that is spoken to and as an audience, it is this quality we respond to. When a Sushil Kumar describes his life and attributes his success to his wife, who in turn is quick to shyly shrug off the credit, we see, for once, something that smacks of the real on a reality show.

As the reality show evolved, it found reality too boring and vapid. It was so much for fun to manufacture it by making people act in unpleasant ways, and say unsavoury things to each other. Now, no reality show can really bring us reality; any act of representation and framing creates its own version of reality in many different ways-by aestheticizing it, emotionalising moments, dramatising revelations, withholding information selectively, or by imbuing some moments with significance while ignoring others and even KBC uses these techniques. The difference is that it uses these to drive us towards the central premise of the show rather than see those as individual ‘masala’ elements. In a world where television is racked by anxiety about itself, and where every new season is an exercise in renewed desperation, KBC stands apart by trusting itself and its viewers and by continuing to tell a human story about dreams and their fulfilment and doing so without trying too hard.

There is no question that KBC rests on the persona of Amitabh Bachchan for he reconciles for us the ideas of fame and humility, of achievement and empathy in the way he treats the participants. He has a special ability to look into the ordinary and find something special and the humility to be awed by it. He is simultaneously The Amitabh Bachchan, the wax God who we touch and squeal when we find out that it is real and a fellow sympathiser and co-traveller on the journey called life. As a carrier of life-altering destiny, he underplays his role to perfection, acknowledging the enormity of what winning means for the participant while revealing the wisdom that knows that it is only money. Under his steerage money is no longer cold with acquisitive urgency but warm with unfolding possibility.

KBC shows us, close-up and in slow motion, the act of a miracle colliding with a dream. In doing so, it tells us that money can change things for the better, when it finds the right home. By applying good fortune to good intention, it keeps the miracle alive, well after the moment of impact. As the winners no doubt find out, one can never have enough money, and that relative scale makes everyone a relative pauper. In the final analysis, Kaun Banega Crorepati reveals both the nobility and the eventual poverty of money, no matter if it comes in eight figures.

Unlike most reality shows, KBC has gained viewership on television by

Directions for Q.65 to Q.98: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.
Not many people saw it coming. It had seemed that the time for Kaun Banega Crorepati had come and gone. This column argued as much a few years ago, when Shah Rukh Khan took over the reins of the show. He did well enough, but it still seemed that the time for the genteel game of knowledge had passed. There was too much blood in reality television, and KBC simply did not have enough platelets for it. It had no backbiting intrigue, it lacked a cast of almost-losers and missed the low-life loquaciousness of other reality shows, and nothing ever needed to be beeped out on it, a sure sign that it was out of touch with the times.

And yet, not only is KBC back, but it is back in a very real sense not just as a TV show that gets good ratings, but as an idea that connects with something deep and real in our lives. What makes this particularly interesting is that not very much has changed in the show. Its focus has shifted to smaller towns and an ‘aadmi’ more ‘aam’, and the prize money has gone up over the years, but these are minor adjustments, not major departures. The format is pretty much the same and the return of Amitabh Bachchan restores to the show both the gravitas and the empathy that has been its hallmark.

Perhaps KBC works because it reconciles many competing ideas for us. For a show that bestows undreamt of wealth on people who win, and does so with reasonable regularity, KBC manages somehow to rise above the money it throws around. By locating money squarely in the context of small dreams, family and community, KBC shows us a face of money that is ennobling. The money of KBC is treated not as a jackpot but as a 'vardaan', a gift from divinity that comes as a reward for one’s persistent effort, a prize for the penance called ordinary life. The images that surround the winners are not big cars and fancy brands, but houses made 'pukka' and IAS dreams pursued. The winners have been remarkable ambassadors for the show, focusing not what the money buys them but what it enables them to work at in the future. Money speaks in the language of responsibility, not indulgence and steeps a larger collective in its pleasing warmth.

The format of the show ensures that we see people as they are, rather than the usual sight of raw innocents gradually losing their transparent naivete in a haze of hair dye and exfoliation. On other reality shows, fame and money are insistent in transforming those that they favour and what they tell us is that success must put distance between destination and source, between who we are and what we must become. On KBC, it is the innocence that is spoken to and as an audience, it is this quality we respond to. When a Sushil Kumar describes his life and attributes his success to his wife, who in turn is quick to shyly shrug off the credit, we see, for once, something that smacks of the real on a reality show.

As the reality show evolved, it found reality too boring and vapid. It was so much for fun to manufacture it by making people act in unpleasant ways, and say unsavoury things to each other. Now, no reality show can really bring us reality; any act of representation and framing creates its own version of reality in many different ways-by aestheticizing it, emotionalising moments, dramatising revelations, withholding information selectively, or by imbuing some moments with significance while ignoring others and even KBC uses these techniques. The difference is that it uses these to drive us towards the central premise of the show rather than see those as individual ‘masala’ elements. In a world where television is racked by anxiety about itself, and where every new season is an exercise in renewed desperation, KBC stands apart by trusting itself and its viewers and by continuing to tell a human story about dreams and their fulfilment and doing so without trying too hard.

There is no question that KBC rests on the persona of Amitabh Bachchan for he reconciles for us the ideas of fame and humility, of achievement and empathy in the way he treats the participants. He has a special ability to look into the ordinary and find something special and the humility to be awed by it. He is simultaneously The Amitabh Bachchan, the wax God who we touch and squeal when we find out that it is real and a fellow sympathiser and co-traveller on the journey called life. As a carrier of life-altering destiny, he underplays his role to perfection, acknowledging the enormity of what winning means for the participant while revealing the wisdom that knows that it is only money. Under his steerage money is no longer cold with acquisitive urgency but warm with unfolding possibility.

KBC shows us, close-up and in slow motion, the act of a miracle colliding with a dream. In doing so, it tells us that money can change things for the better, when it finds the right home. By applying good fortune to good intention, it keeps the miracle alive, well after the moment of impact. As the winners no doubt find out, one can never have enough money, and that relative scale makes everyone a relative pauper. In the final analysis, Kaun Banega Crorepati reveals both the nobility and the eventual poverty of money, no matter if it comes in eight figures.

According to the author, KBC presents the prize money as

Directions for Q.65 to Q.98: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.
Not many people saw it coming. It had seemed that the time for Kaun Banega Crorepati had come and gone. This column argued as much a few years ago, when Shah Rukh Khan took over the reins of the show. He did well enough, but it still seemed that the time for the genteel game of knowledge had passed. There was too much blood in reality television, and KBC simply did not have enough platelets for it. It had no backbiting intrigue, it lacked a cast of almost-losers and missed the low-life loquaciousness of other reality shows, and nothing ever needed to be beeped out on it, a sure sign that it was out of touch with the times.

And yet, not only is KBC back, but it is back in a very real sense not just as a TV show that gets good ratings, but as an idea that connects with something deep and real in our lives. What makes this particularly interesting is that not very much has changed in the show. Its focus has shifted to smaller towns and an ‘aadmi’ more ‘aam’, and the prize money has gone up over the years, but these are minor adjustments, not major departures. The format is pretty much the same and the return of Amitabh Bachchan restores to the show both the gravitas and the empathy that has been its hallmark.

Perhaps KBC works because it reconciles many competing ideas for us. For a show that bestows undreamt of wealth on people who win, and does so with reasonable regularity, KBC manages somehow to rise above the money it throws around. By locating money squarely in the context of small dreams, family and community, KBC shows us a face of money that is ennobling. The money of KBC is treated not as a jackpot but as a 'vardaan', a gift from divinity that comes as a reward for one’s persistent effort, a prize for the penance called ordinary life. The images that surround the winners are not big cars and fancy brands, but houses made 'pukka' and IAS dreams pursued. The winners have been remarkable ambassadors for the show, focusing not what the money buys them but what it enables them to work at in the future. Money speaks in the language of responsibility, not indulgence and steeps a larger collective in its pleasing warmth.

The format of the show ensures that we see people as they are, rather than the usual sight of raw innocents gradually losing their transparent naivete in a haze of hair dye and exfoliation. On other reality shows, fame and money are insistent in transforming those that they favour and what they tell us is that success must put distance between destination and source, between who we are and what we must become. On KBC, it is the innocence that is spoken to and as an audience, it is this quality we respond to. When a Sushil Kumar describes his life and attributes his success to his wife, who in turn is quick to shyly shrug off the credit, we see, for once, something that smacks of the real on a reality show.

As the reality show evolved, it found reality too boring and vapid. It was so much for fun to manufacture it by making people act in unpleasant ways, and say unsavoury things to each other. Now, no reality show can really bring us reality; any act of representation and framing creates its own version of reality in many different ways-by aestheticizing it, emotionalising moments, dramatising revelations, withholding information selectively, or by imbuing some moments with significance while ignoring others and even KBC uses these techniques. The difference is that it uses these to drive us towards the central premise of the show rather than see those as individual ‘masala’ elements. In a world where television is racked by anxiety about itself, and where every new season is an exercise in renewed desperation, KBC stands apart by trusting itself and its viewers and by continuing to tell a human story about dreams and their fulfilment and doing so without trying too hard.

There is no question that KBC rests on the persona of Amitabh Bachchan for he reconciles for us the ideas of fame and humility, of achievement and empathy in the way he treats the participants. He has a special ability to look into the ordinary and find something special and the humility to be awed by it. He is simultaneously The Amitabh Bachchan, the wax God who we touch and squeal when we find out that it is real and a fellow sympathiser and co-traveller on the journey called life. As a carrier of life-altering destiny, he underplays his role to perfection, acknowledging the enormity of what winning means for the participant while revealing the wisdom that knows that it is only money. Under his steerage money is no longer cold with acquisitive urgency but warm with unfolding possibility.

KBC shows us, close-up and in slow motion, the act of a miracle colliding with a dream. In doing so, it tells us that money can change things for the better, when it finds the right home. By applying good fortune to good intention, it keeps the miracle alive, well after the moment of impact. As the winners no doubt find out, one can never have enough money, and that relative scale makes everyone a relative pauper. In the final analysis, Kaun Banega Crorepati reveals both the nobility and the eventual poverty of money, no matter if it comes in eight figures.

In what context does the author use the phrase “a relative pauper”?

Directions for Q.69 to Q.72: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.

Babur’s head was throbbing with the persistent ache that dogged him during the monsoon. The warm rain had been falling for three days now but the still, heavy air held no promise of relief. The rains would go on for weeks, even months. Lying back against silken bolsters in his bedchamber in the Agra fort, he tried to imagine the chill, thin rains of Ferghana blowing in over the jagged summit of Mount Beshtor and failed. The punkah above his head hardly disturbed the air. It was hard even to remember what it was like not to feel hot. There was little pleasure just now even in visiting his garden the sodden flowers, soggy ground and overflowing water channels only depressed him.

Babur got up and tried to concentrate on writing an entry in his diary but the words wouldn’t come and he pushed his jewel-studded inkwell impatiently aside. Maybe he would go to the women’s apartments. He would ask Maham to sing. Sometimes she accompanied herself on the round-bellied, slender- necked lute that had once belonged to Esan Dawlat. Maham lacked her grandmother’s gift but the lute still made a sweet sound in her hands.

Or he might play a game of chess with Humayun. His son had a shrewd, subtle mind — but so, he prided himself, did he and he could usually beat him. It amused him to see Humayun’s startled look as he claimed victory with the traditional cry shah mat — ‘check-mate’, ‘the king is at a loss’. Later, they would discuss Babur’s plans to launch a campaign when the rains eased against the rulers of Bengal. In their steamy jungles in the Ganges delta, they thought they could defy Moghul authority and deny Babur’s overlordship.

‘Send for my son Humayun and fetch my chessmen,’ Babur ordered a servant. Trying to shake off his lethargy he got up and went to a casement projecting over the riverbank to watch the swollen, muddy waters of the Jumna rushing by. A farmer was leading his bony bullocks along the oozing bank

Hearing footsteps Babur turned, expecting to see his son, but it was only the white-tunicked servant. ‘Majesty, your son begs your forgiveness but he is unwell and cannot leave his chamber.’
What is the matter with him?’
‘I do not know, Majesty.’
Humayun was never ill. Perhaps he, too, was suffering from the torpor that came with the monsoon, sapping the energy and spirit of even the most vigorous.
‘I will go to him.’ Babur wrapped a yellow silk robe around himself and thrust his feet into pointed kidskin slippers. Then he hurried from his apartments to Humayun’s on the opposite side of a galleried courtyard, where water was not shooting as it should, in sparkling arcs from the lotus-shaped marble basins of the fountains but pouring over the inundated rims.Hearing footsteps Babur turned, expecting to see his son, but it was only the white-tunicked servant. ‘Majesty, your son begs your forgiveness but he is unwell and cannot leave his chamber.’
What is the matter with him?’
‘I do not know, Majesty.’
Humayun was never ill. Perhaps he, too, was suffering from the torpor that came with the monsoon, sapping the energy and spirit of even the most vigorous.
‘I will go to him.’ Babur wrapped a yellow silk robe around himself and thrust his feet into pointed kidskin slippers. Then he hurried from his apartments to Humayun’s on the opposite side of a galleried courtyard, where water was not shooting as it should, in sparkling arcs from the lotus-shaped marble basins of the fountains but pouring over the inundated rims.

Humayun was lying on his bed, arms thrown back, eyes closed, forehead beaded with sweat, shivering. When he heard his father’s voice he opened his eyes but they were bloodshot, the pupils dilated. Babur could hear his heavy wheezing breathing. Every scratchy intake of air seemed an effort which hurt him.
‘When did this illness begin?’
‘Early this morning, Father.’
‘Why wasn’t I told?’ Babur looked angrily at his son’s attendants. ‘Send for my hakim immediately!’ Then he dipped his own silk handkerchief into some water and wiped Humayun’s brow. The sweat returned at once — in fact, it was almost running down his face and he seemed to be shivering even more violently now and his teeth had begun to chatter.
‘Majesty, the hakim is here.’
Abdul-Malik went immediately to Humayun’s bedside, laid a hand on his forehead, pulled back his eyelids and felt his pulse. Then, with increasing concern, he pulled open Humayun’s robe and, bending, turned his neatly turbaned head to listen to Humayun's heart.
‘What is wrong with him?’
Abdul-Malik paused. ‘It is hard to say, Majesty. I need to examine him further.’

Whatever you require you only have to say...’
‘I will send for my assistants. If I may be frank, it would be best if you were to leave the chamber, Majesty. I will report to you when l have examined the prince thoroughly - but it looks serious, perhaps even grave. His pulse and heartbeat are weak and rapid.’ Without waiting for Babur’s reply, Abdul-Malik turned back to his patient. Babur hesitated and, after a glance at his son’s waxen trembling face, left the room. As attendants closed the doors behind him he found that he, too, was trembling.
A chill closed round his heart. So many times he had feared for Humayun. At Panipat he could have fallen beneath the feet of one of Sultan Ibrahim’s war elephants. At Khanua he might have been felled by the slash of a Rajput sword. But he had never thought that Humayun — so healthy and strong — might succumb to sickness. How could he face life without his beloved eldest son? Hindustan and all its riches would be worthless if Humayun died. He would never have come to this sweltering, festering land with its endless hot rains and whining, bloodsucking mosquitoes if he had known this would be the price.

Babur was feeling depressed because...

Directions for Q.69 to Q.72: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.

Babur’s head was throbbing with the persistent ache that dogged him during the monsoon. The warm rain had been falling for three days now but the still, heavy air held no promise of relief. The rains would go on for weeks, even months. Lying back against silken bolsters in his bedchamber in the Agra fort, he tried to imagine the chill, thin rains of Ferghana blowing in over the jagged summit of Mount Beshtor and failed. The punkah above his head hardly disturbed the air. It was hard even to remember what it was like not to feel hot. There was little pleasure just now even in visiting his garden the sodden flowers, soggy ground and overflowing water channels only depressed him.

Babur got up and tried to concentrate on writing an entry in his diary but the words wouldn’t come and he pushed his jewel-studded inkwell impatiently aside. Maybe he would go to the women’s apartments. He would ask Maham to sing. Sometimes she accompanied herself on the round-bellied, slender- necked lute that had once belonged to Esan Dawlat. Maham lacked her grandmother’s gift but the lute still made a sweet sound in her hands.

Or he might play a game of chess with Humayun. His son had a shrewd, subtle mind — but so, he prided himself, did he and he could usually beat him. It amused him to see Humayun’s startled look as he claimed victory with the traditional cry shah mat — ‘check-mate’, ‘the king is at a loss’. Later, they would discuss Babur’s plans to launch a campaign when the rains eased against the rulers of Bengal. In their steamy jungles in the Ganges delta, they thought they could defy Moghul authority and deny Babur’s overlordship.

‘Send for my son Humayun and fetch my chessmen,’ Babur ordered a servant. Trying to shake off his lethargy he got up and went to a casement projecting over the riverbank to watch the swollen, muddy waters of the Jumna rushing by. A farmer was leading his bony bullocks along the oozing bank

Hearing footsteps Babur turned, expecting to see his son, but it was only the white-tunicked servant. ‘Majesty, your son begs your forgiveness but he is unwell and cannot leave his chamber.’
What is the matter with him?’
‘I do not know, Majesty.’
Humayun was never ill. Perhaps he, too, was suffering from the torpor that came with the monsoon, sapping the energy and spirit of even the most vigorous.
‘I will go to him.’ Babur wrapped a yellow silk robe around himself and thrust his feet into pointed kidskin slippers. Then he hurried from his apartments to Humayun’s on the opposite side of a galleried courtyard, where water was not shooting as it should, in sparkling arcs from the lotus-shaped marble basins of the fountains but pouring over the inundated rims.Hearing footsteps Babur turned, expecting to see his son, but it was only the white-tunicked servant. ‘Majesty, your son begs your forgiveness but he is unwell and cannot leave his chamber.’
What is the matter with him?’
‘I do not know, Majesty.’
Humayun was never ill. Perhaps he, too, was suffering from the torpor that came with the monsoon, sapping the energy and spirit of even the most vigorous.
‘I will go to him.’ Babur wrapped a yellow silk robe around himself and thrust his feet into pointed kidskin slippers. Then he hurried from his apartments to Humayun’s on the opposite side of a galleried courtyard, where water was not shooting as it should, in sparkling arcs from the lotus-shaped marble basins of the fountains but pouring over the inundated rims.

Humayun was lying on his bed, arms thrown back, eyes closed, forehead beaded with sweat, shivering. When he heard his father’s voice he opened his eyes but they were bloodshot, the pupils dilated. Babur could hear his heavy wheezing breathing. Every scratchy intake of air seemed an effort which hurt him.
‘When did this illness begin?’
‘Early this morning, Father.’
‘Why wasn’t I told?’ Babur looked angrily at his son’s attendants. ‘Send for my hakim immediately!’ Then he dipped his own silk handkerchief into some water and wiped Humayun’s brow. The sweat returned at once — in fact, it was almost running down his face and he seemed to be shivering even more violently now and his teeth had begun to chatter.
‘Majesty, the hakim is here.’
Abdul-Malik went immediately to Humayun’s bedside, laid a hand on his forehead, pulled back his eyelids and felt his pulse. Then, with increasing concern, he pulled open Humayun’s robe and, bending, turned his neatly turbaned head to listen to Humayun's heart.
‘What is wrong with him?’
Abdul-Malik paused. ‘It is hard to say, Majesty. I need to examine him further.’

Whatever you require you only have to say...’
‘I will send for my assistants. If I may be frank, it would be best if you were to leave the chamber, Majesty. I will report to you when l have examined the prince thoroughly - but it looks serious, perhaps even grave. His pulse and heartbeat are weak and rapid.’ Without waiting for Babur’s reply, Abdul-Malik turned back to his patient. Babur hesitated and, after a glance at his son’s waxen trembling face, left the room. As attendants closed the doors behind him he found that he, too, was trembling.
A chill closed round his heart. So many times he had feared for Humayun. At Panipat he could have fallen beneath the feet of one of Sultan Ibrahim’s war elephants. At Khanua he might have been felled by the slash of a Rajput sword. But he had never thought that Humayun — so healthy and strong — might succumb to sickness. How could he face life without his beloved eldest son? Hindustan and all its riches would be worthless if Humayun died. He would never have come to this sweltering, festering land with its endless hot rains and whining, bloodsucking mosquitoes if he had known this would be the price.

Which among the following things did Babur not consider doing to relieve himself of depression?

Directions for Q.69 to Q.72: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.

Babur’s head was throbbing with the persistent ache that dogged him during the monsoon. The warm rain had been falling for three days now but the still, heavy air held no promise of relief. The rains would go on for weeks, even months. Lying back against silken bolsters in his bedchamber in the Agra fort, he tried to imagine the chill, thin rains of Ferghana blowing in over the jagged summit of Mount Beshtor and failed. The punkah above his head hardly disturbed the air. It was hard even to remember what it was like not to feel hot. There was little pleasure just now even in visiting his garden the sodden flowers, soggy ground and overflowing water channels only depressed him.

Babur got up and tried to concentrate on writing an entry in his diary but the words wouldn’t come and he pushed his jewel-studded inkwell impatiently aside. Maybe he would go to the women’s apartments. He would ask Maham to sing. Sometimes she accompanied herself on the round-bellied, slender- necked lute that had once belonged to Esan Dawlat. Maham lacked her grandmother’s gift but the lute still made a sweet sound in her hands.

Or he might play a game of chess with Humayun. His son had a shrewd, subtle mind — but so, he prided himself, did he and he could usually beat him. It amused him to see Humayun’s startled look as he claimed victory with the traditional cry shah mat — ‘check-mate’, ‘the king is at a loss’. Later, they would discuss Babur’s plans to launch a campaign when the rains eased against the rulers of Bengal. In their steamy jungles in the Ganges delta, they thought they could defy Moghul authority and deny Babur’s overlordship.

‘Send for my son Humayun and fetch my chessmen,’ Babur ordered a servant. Trying to shake off his lethargy he got up and went to a casement projecting over the riverbank to watch the swollen, muddy waters of the Jumna rushing by. A farmer was leading his bony bullocks along the oozing bank

Hearing footsteps Babur turned, expecting to see his son, but it was only the white-tunicked servant. ‘Majesty, your son begs your forgiveness but he is unwell and cannot leave his chamber.’
What is the matter with him?’
‘I do not know, Majesty.’
Humayun was never ill. Perhaps he, too, was suffering from the torpor that came with the monsoon, sapping the energy and spirit of even the most vigorous.
‘I will go to him.’ Babur wrapped a yellow silk robe around himself and thrust his feet into pointed kidskin slippers. Then he hurried from his apartments to Humayun’s on the opposite side of a galleried courtyard, where water was not shooting as it should, in sparkling arcs from the lotus-shaped marble basins of the fountains but pouring over the inundated rims.Hearing footsteps Babur turned, expecting to see his son, but it was only the white-tunicked servant. ‘Majesty, your son begs your forgiveness but he is unwell and cannot leave his chamber.’
What is the matter with him?’
‘I do not know, Majesty.’
Humayun was never ill. Perhaps he, too, was suffering from the torpor that came with the monsoon, sapping the energy and spirit of even the most vigorous.
‘I will go to him.’ Babur wrapped a yellow silk robe around himself and thrust his feet into pointed kidskin slippers. Then he hurried from his apartments to Humayun’s on the opposite side of a galleried courtyard, where water was not shooting as it should, in sparkling arcs from the lotus-shaped marble basins of the fountains but pouring over the inundated rims.

Humayun was lying on his bed, arms thrown back, eyes closed, forehead beaded with sweat, shivering. When he heard his father’s voice he opened his eyes but they were bloodshot, the pupils dilated. Babur could hear his heavy wheezing breathing. Every scratchy intake of air seemed an effort which hurt him.
‘When did this illness begin?’
‘Early this morning, Father.’
‘Why wasn’t I told?’ Babur looked angrily at his son’s attendants. ‘Send for my hakim immediately!’ Then he dipped his own silk handkerchief into some water and wiped Humayun’s brow. The sweat returned at once — in fact, it was almost running down his face and he seemed to be shivering even more violently now and his teeth had begun to chatter.
‘Majesty, the hakim is here.’
Abdul-Malik went immediately to Humayun’s bedside, laid a hand on his forehead, pulled back his eyelids and felt his pulse. Then, with increasing concern, he pulled open Humayun’s robe and, bending, turned his neatly turbaned head to listen to Humayun's heart.
‘What is wrong with him?’
Abdul-Malik paused. ‘It is hard to say, Majesty. I need to examine him further.’

Whatever you require you only have to say...’
‘I will send for my assistants. If I may be frank, it would be best if you were to leave the chamber, Majesty. I will report to you when l have examined the prince thoroughly - but it looks serious, perhaps even grave. His pulse and heartbeat are weak and rapid.’ Without waiting for Babur’s reply, Abdul-Malik turned back to his patient. Babur hesitated and, after a glance at his son’s waxen trembling face, left the room. As attendants closed the doors behind him he found that he, too, was trembling.
A chill closed round his heart. So many times he had feared for Humayun. At Panipat he could have fallen beneath the feet of one of Sultan Ibrahim’s war elephants. At Khanua he might have been felled by the slash of a Rajput sword. But he had never thought that Humayun — so healthy and strong — might succumb to sickness. How could he face life without his beloved eldest son? Hindustan and all its riches would be worthless if Humayun died. He would never have come to this sweltering, festering land with its endless hot rains and whining, bloodsucking mosquitoes if he had known this would be the price.

What was it that Babur currently feared for Humayun?

Directions for Q.69 to Q.72: Read the following passages carefully and answer the questions at the end of each passage.

Babur’s head was throbbing with the persistent ache that dogged him during the monsoon. The warm rain had been falling for three days now but the still, heavy air held no promise of relief. The rains would go on for weeks, even months. Lying back against silken bolsters in his bedchamber in the Agra fort, he tried to imagine the chill, thin rains of Ferghana blowing in over the jagged summit of Mount Beshtor and failed. The punkah above his head hardly disturbed the air. It was hard even to remember what it was like not to feel hot. There was little pleasure just now even in visiting his garden the sodden flowers, soggy ground and overflowing water channels only depressed him.

Babur got up and tried to concentrate on writing an entry in his diary but the words wouldn’t come and he pushed his jewel-studded inkwell impatiently aside. Maybe he would go to the women’s apartments. He would ask Maham to sing. Sometimes she accompanied herself on the round-bellied, slender- necked lute that had once belonged to Esan Dawlat. Maham lacked her grandmother’s gift but the lute still made a sweet sound in her hands.

Or he might play a game of chess with Humayun. His son had a shrewd, subtle mind — but so, he prided himself, did he and he could usually beat him. It amused him to see Humayun’s startled look as he claimed victory with the traditional cry shah mat — ‘check-mate’, ‘the king is at a loss’. Later, they would discuss Babur’s plans to launch a campaign when the rains eased against the rulers of Bengal. In their steamy jungles in the Ganges delta, they thought they could defy Moghul authority and deny Babur’s overlordship.

‘Send for my son Humayun and fetch my chessmen,’ Babur ordered a servant. Trying to shake off his lethargy he got up and went to a casement projecting over the riverbank to watch the swollen, muddy waters of the Jumna rushing by. A farmer was leading his bony bullocks along the oozing bank

Hearing footsteps Babur turned, expecting to see his son, but it was only the white-tunicked servant. ‘Majesty, your son begs your forgiveness but he is unwell and cannot leave his chamber.’
What is the matter with him?’
‘I do not know, Majesty.’
Humayun was never ill. Perhaps he, too, was suffering from the torpor that came with the monsoon, sapping the energy and spirit of even the most vigorous.
‘I will go to him.’ Babur wrapped a yellow silk robe around himself and thrust his feet into pointed kidskin slippers. Then he hurried from his apartments to Humayun’s on the opposite side of a galleried courtyard, where water was not shooting as it should, in sparkling arcs from the lotus-shaped marble basins of the fountains but pouring over the inundated rims.Hearing footsteps Babur turned, expecting to see his son, but it was only the white-tunicked servant. ‘Majesty, your son begs your forgiveness but he is unwell and cannot leave his chamber.’
What is the matter with him?’
‘I do not know, Majesty.’
Humayun was never ill. Perhaps he, too, was suffering from the torpor that came with the monsoon, sapping the energy and spirit of even the most vigorous.
‘I will go to him.’ Babur wrapped a yellow silk robe around himself and thrust his feet into pointed kidskin slippers. Then he hurried from his apartments to Humayun’s on the opposite side of a galleried courtyard, where water was not shooting as it should, in sparkling arcs from the lotus-shaped marble basins of the fountains but pouring over the inundated rims.

Humayun was lying on his bed, arms thrown back, eyes closed, forehead beaded with sweat, shivering. When he heard his father’s voice he opened his eyes but they were bloodshot, the pupils dilated. Babur could hear his heavy wheezing breathing. Every scratchy intake of air seemed an effort which hurt him.
‘When did this illness begin?’
‘Early this morning, Father.’
‘Why wasn’t I told?’ Babur looked angrily at his son’s attendants. ‘Send for my hakim immediately!’ Then he dipped his own silk handkerchief into some water and wiped Humayun’s brow. The sweat returned at once — in fact, it was almost running down his face and he seemed to be shivering even more violently now and his teeth had begun to chatter.
‘Majesty, the hakim is here.’
Abdul-Malik went immediately to Humayun’s bedside, laid a hand on his forehead, pulled back his eyelids and felt his pulse. Then, with increasing concern, he pulled open Humayun’s robe and, bending, turned his neatly turbaned head to listen to Humayun's heart.
‘What is wrong with him?’
Abdul-Malik paused. ‘It is hard to say, Majesty. I need to examine him further.’

Whatever you require you only have to say...’
‘I will send for my assistants. If I may be frank, it would be best if you were to leave the chamber, Majesty. I will report to you when l have examined the prince thoroughly - but it looks serious, perhaps even grave. His pulse and heartbeat are weak and rapid.’ Without waiting for Babur’s reply, Abdul-Malik turned back to his patient. Babur hesitated and, after a glance at his son’s waxen trembling face, left the room. As attendants closed the doors behind him he found that he, too, was trembling.
A chill closed round his heart. So many times he had feared for Humayun. At Panipat he could have fallen beneath the feet of one of Sultan Ibrahim’s war elephants. At Khanua he might have been felled by the slash of a Rajput sword. But he had never thought that Humayun — so healthy and strong — might succumb to sickness. How could he face life without his beloved eldest son? Hindustan and all its riches would be worthless if Humayun died. He would never have come to this sweltering, festering land with its endless hot rains and whining, bloodsucking mosquitoes if he had known this would be the price.

According to this passage, which of the following has not been used to describe Humayun?

What was the picture shown on the first stamp of independent India?

Which of the following venues has hosted the Summer Olympics Games the maximum number of times?

What is a good estimate for the length of the coastline of the mainland India?

Which treaty led to creation of the single European Currency “Euro”?

In ecology, what name is given to the measure of diversity that is often used to quantify the biodiversity of a habitat by taking into account the number of species present, as well as the abundance of each species?

Match the Memoir/Autobiography in Column 1: with the person on whom it is based in Column 2:

Which of the following is NOT TRUE about the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) of the United Nations (UN)?
1. There are 8 MDGs that 191 UN Members states have agreed to achieve
2. The year set for achieving the MDGs is 2020
3. Ensuring environmental sustainability is not one of the MDGs
4. Eradication of extreme poverty and hunger is one of the prime MDGs

Match the Country in Column 1 with its Capital city in Column 2 and its Currency in Column 3

Who is the Indian to be named as one of the six winners of the prestigious Magsaysay Award for 2012?

Match the name of the automobile company in Column 1 with the brand of cars owned by them in Column 2

Who, among the following, has not been a Vice President of India before becoming the President of India?

GAAR has been in news recently. What does GAAR stand for?

Match the description given in Column 1 with the name of film in Column 2

Which year is known as the year of the great divide in the demographic history

Match the position in Column 1 with the person who holds it (as on 31st August 2012) in Column 2:

The ‘God Particle’ is the name given to

Which among the following cities hosted the 4th BRICS Summit in 2012?

When it is 11:15 as per Greenwich Mean Time, what will be the time in Delhi

Mullaperiyar Dam is a matter of controversy between which of the following states?

Match the celebration day in Column 1 with the date in Column 2

Which country has won the Gold Medal for Men’s Football in 2012 Olympic Games?

What is the name given to the civil reformist movement for eradication of ragging in India?

Which of the following teams have been in at least one of the ten final matches of ICC Cricket World Cup played from 1975 through 2011, but have never been a winner

In a painting what is the vanishing point?

Match the Leader’s name in Column 1 to the Party headed by them in Column 2:

According to Greek Mythology, what is the name of the beautiful youth who was loved by Echo; and in punishment for not returning her love, was made to fall in love with his image reflected in a pool; and finally unable to possess the image, is believed to have pined away and turned into a flower?

Of which of the following trade groupings is Myanmar a member

Arrange the following Indian rivers from North to South

1. Narmada
2. Kaveri
3. Jhelum
4. Godavari

In the word HEIRARCHICAL, If the first and second, third and fourth, fifth and sixth letters are interchanged up to the last letter, which are the two position from the left on which R would appear and on which positions would C appear twice?

In the following series, what numbers should replace the question marks?
-1, 0, 1, 0, 2, 4, 1, 6, 9, 2, 12, 16, ? ? ?

Here are some words translated from an artificial language.
dionot means oak tree
blyonot means oak leaf
blycrin means maple leaf
Which word could mean “maple syrup”

Gita is older than her cousin Mita. Mita’s brother Bhanu is older than Gita. When Mita and Bhanu are visiting Gita, all three like to play a game of Monopoly. Mita wins more often than Gita does. Which of the following can be concluded from the above?

Priya is taller than Tiya and shorter than Siya.
Riya is shorter than Siya and taller than Priya.
Riya is taller than Diya, who is shorter than Tiya.
Arrange them in order of descending heights.

Statement 1: All chickens are birds.
Statement 2: Some chickens are hens.
Statement 3: Female birds lay eggs.
If the above statement are facts, then which of the following must also be a fact?
I. All birds lay eggs.
II. Hens are birds.
III. Some chickens are not hens.

Statement 1: Pictures can tell a story.
Statement 2: All storybooks have pictures.
Statement 3: Some storybooks have words.
If the above statement are facts, then which of the following must also be a fact?
I. Pictures can tell a story better than words can.
II. The stories in storybook are very simple
III. Some storybooks have both words and pictures.

If IQS : LNV, then JRM : ?

Directions for Q.109 and Q.110: Some information is provided in the paragraph below. Answer the questions based on this information.
A weekly television show routinely stars six actors, J, K, L, M, N and O. Since the show has been on the air for a long time, some of the actors are good friends and some do not get along at all. In an effort to keep peace, the director sees to it that friends work together and enemies do not. Also, as the actors have become more popular, some of them need time off to do other projects. To keep the schedule working, the director has a few things she must be aware of:
J will only work on episodes on which M is working
N will not work with K under any circumstances.
M can only work every other week, in order to be free to film a movie.
At least three of the actors must appear in every weekly episode.

In a show about L getting a job at the same company J already works for and K used to work for, all three actors will appear. Which of the following is true about the other actors who may appear?

Next week, the show involves N’s new car and O’s new refrigerator. Which of the following is true about the actors who may appear?

Directions for Q.111 and Q.112:

Some information is provided in the paragraph below. Answer the questions based on this information.
Era is in charge of seating the speakers at a table. In addition to the moderator, there will be a pilot, a writer, an attorney, and an explorer.
The speakers’ names are Gaj, Hema, Jaya, Kumar, and Lalit
The moderator must sit in the middle, in seat #3
The attorney cannot sit next to the explorer
Lalit is the pilot
The writer and the attorney sit on either side of the moderator
Hema, who is not the moderator, sits between Kumar and Jaya.
The moderator does not sit next to Jaya or Lalit
Gaj, who is attorney, sits in seat #4.

Who is the moderator?

Directions for Q.111 and Q.112:

Some information is provided in the paragraph below. Answer the questions based on this information.
Era is in charge of seating the speakers at a table. In addition to the moderator, there will be a pilot, a writer, an attorney, and an explorer.
The speakers’ names are Gaj, Hema, Jaya, Kumar, and Lalit
The moderator must sit in the middle, in seat #3
The attorney cannot sit next to the explorer
Lalit is the pilot
The writer and the attorney sit on either side of the moderator
Hema, who is not the moderator, sits between Kumar and Jaya.
The moderator does not sit next to Jaya or Lalit
Gaj, who is attorney, sits in seat #4.

Where does Jaya Sit?

Directions for Q.113 and Q.114: Some information is provided in the paragraph below. Answer the questions based on this information.

A number arrangement machine, when given a particular input, rearranges it using a particular rule. The following is the illustration and steps of the arrangement Arrangement at Step V is the last for the given input Arrangement at Step V is the last for the given input:

What should be the fourth step of the following input?
64 326 187 87 118 432 219 348

Directions for Q.113 and Q.114: Some information is provided in the paragraph below. Answer the questions based on this information.

A number arrangement machine, when given a particular input, rearranges it using a particular rule. The following is the illustration and steps of the arrangement Arrangement at Step V is the last for the given input Arrangement at Step V is the last for the given input:

How many steps will be required to get the final output from the following input?
319 318 746 123 15 320 78 426

P * Q implies that Q is 2 kms to the left of P
P @ Q implies that Q is 2 kms below P
P $ Q implies that Q is standing 2 kms above P
P ≠ Q implies that Q is standing 2 kms to the right of P
If F ≠ S $ B * V, in which direction is F with respect to V?

Immediately after leaving his house, Ratvik turned right and walked for 40m. Then he turned left and walked for 20mts. Then he again took a left turn and walked for 30mts. There he met a friend and turned right to go to the coffee shop 20 mts away. After having coffee, he walked back straight for 40mts in the direction he had come from. How far is he from his house?

Find the missing alphabet.

In a four-day period - Monday through Thursday - each of the following temporary office workers worked only one day, each a different day. Jai was scheduled to work on Monday, but he traded with Raj, who was originally scheduled to work on Wednesday. Farid traded with Kajal, who was originally scheduled to work on Thursday. Finally, Jai traded with Kajal. After all the switching was done, who worked on Tuesday?

Which four bits can be joined together to form two words that have opposite meanings?
ERT, UCE, DES, END, EXP, EAR, AND, SIP, RED, GOS
1      2      3       4      5      6      7        8    9      10

If a clock is kept on the table in such a way that at 3:10 pm the hour hand points south, after how much time will the minute hand point east?