Read the passage carefully and choose the best answer to each question out of the four alternatives.

Doing an internship at the University of Lille in France, I almost always found myself stuck whenever I had to speak to non-Indians about India or on anything 'Indian'. This was more because of the subtle differences in the way the French understood India in comparison to what I thought was 'Indian'. For instance, when I, or any Indian for that matter, say 'Hindi' is an Indian language, what it means is that it is one of the languages widely spoken in India. This need not be similar to the understanding that the French would have when they hear of 'Hindi' as an Indian language. Because for them Hindi then becomes the only language spoken in India. This is a natural inference that the French, Germans, Italians and many other European nationals would tend to make, because that is generally how it is in their own respective countries. The risk of such inappropriate generalisations made about 'Indian' is not restricted to language alone but also for India's landscape, cuisine, movies, music, climate, economic development and even political ideologies. The magnitude of diversity of one European country can be easily compared to that of one of the Indian State, isn't it? Can they imagine that India is one country whose diversity can be equated to that of the entire European continent? The onus is upon us to go ahead and clarify the nuances in 'Indianness' while we converse. But why should one do so? How does it even matter to clarify?

According to the writer the responsibility of explaining the facts about India to Europeans rests with?

Read the passage carefully and choose the best answer to each question out of the four alternatives.

Doing an internship at the University of Lille in France, I almost always found myself stuck whenever I had to speak to non-Indians about India or on anything 'Indian'. This was more because of the subtle differences in the way the French understood India in comparison to what I thought was 'Indian'. For instance, when I, or any Indian for that matter, say 'Hindi' is an Indian language, what it means is that it is one of the languages widely spoken in India. This need not be similar to the understanding that the French would have when they hear of 'Hindi' as an Indian language. Because for them Hindi then becomes the only language spoken in India. This is a natural inference that the French, Germans, Italians and many other European nationals would tend to make, because that is generally how it is in their own respective countries. The risk of such inappropriate generalisations made about 'Indian' is not restricted to language alone but also for India's landscape, cuisine, movies, music, climate, economic development and even political ideologies. The magnitude of diversity of one European country can be easily compared to that of one of the Indian State, isn't it? Can they imagine that India is one country whose diversity can be equated to that of the entire European continent? The onus is upon us to go ahead and clarify the nuances in 'Indianness' while we converse. But why should one do so? How does it even matter to clarify?

What wrong with respect to India are the Europeans responsible for?

Read the passage carefully and choose the best answer to each question out of the four alternatives.

Doing an internship at the University of Lille in France, I almost always found myself stuck whenever I had to speak to non-Indians about India or on anything 'Indian'. This was more because of the subtle differences in the way the French understood India in comparison to what I thought was 'Indian'. For instance, when I, or any Indian for that matter, say 'Hindi' is an Indian language, what it means is that it is one of the languages widely spoken in India. This need not be similar to the understanding that the French would have when they hear of 'Hindi' as an Indian language. Because for them Hindi then becomes the only language spoken in India. This is a natural inference that the French, Germans, Italians and many other European nationals would tend to make, because that is generally how it is in their own respective countries. The risk of such inappropriate generalisations made about 'Indian' is not restricted to language alone but also for India's landscape, cuisine, movies, music, climate, economic development and even political ideologies. The magnitude of diversity of one European country can be easily compared to that of one of the Indian State, isn't it? Can they imagine that India is one country whose diversity can be equated to that of the entire European continent? The onus is upon us to go ahead and clarify the nuances in 'Indianness' while we converse. But why should one do so? How does it even matter to clarify?

The writer was working at a university in which country?

Read the passage carefully and choose the best answer to each question out of the four alternatives.

Doing an internship at the University of Lille in France, I almost always found myself stuck whenever I had to speak to non-Indians about India or on anything 'Indian'. This was more because of the subtle differences in the way the French understood India in comparison to what I thought was 'Indian'. For instance, when I, or any Indian for that matter, say 'Hindi' is an Indian language, what it means is that it is one of the languages widely spoken in India. This need not be similar to the understanding that the French would have when they hear of 'Hindi' as an Indian language. Because for them Hindi then becomes the only language spoken in India. This is a natural inference that the French, Germans, Italians and many other European nationals would tend to make, because that is generally how it is in their own respective countries. The risk of such inappropriate generalisations made about 'Indian' is not restricted to language alone but also for India's landscape, cuisine, movies, music, climate, economic development and even political ideologies. The magnitude of diversity of one European country can be easily compared to that of one of the Indian State, isn't it? Can they imagine that India is one country whose diversity can be equated to that of the entire European continent? The onus is upon us to go ahead and clarify the nuances in 'Indianness' while we converse. But why should one do so? How does it even matter to clarify?

Why do some French people think that Hindi is the only Indian language?

A passage is given with five questions following it. Read the passage carefully and select the best answer to each question out of the given four alternatives.

The saddest part of life lies not in the act of dying, but in failing to truly live while we are alive. Too many of us play small with our lives, never letting the fullness of our humanity see the light of day. I’ve learned that what really counts in life, in the end, is not how many toys we have collected or how much money we’ve accumulated, but how many of our talents we have liberated and used for a purpose that adds value to this world. What truly matters most are the lives we have touched and the legacy that we have left. Tolstoy put it so well when he wrote: “We live for ourselves only when we live for others.” It took me forty years to discover this simple point of wisdom.

Forty long years to discover that success cannot really be pursued. Success ensues and flows into your life as the unintended yet inevitable byproduct of a life spent enriching the lives of other people. When you shift your daily focus from a compulsion to survive towards a lifelong commitment to serve, your existence cannot help but explode into success. I still can’t believe that I had to wait until the “half-time” of my life to figure out that true fulfillment as a human being comes not from achieving those grand gestures that put us on the front pages of the newspapers and business magazines, but instead from those basic and incremental acts of decency that each one of us has the privilege to practice each and every day if we simply make the choice to do so.

Mother Teresa, a great leader of human hearts if ever there was one, said it best: “There are no great acts, only small acts done with great love.” I learned this the hard way in my life. Until recently, I had been so busy striving, I had missed out on living. I was so busy chasing life’s big pleasures that I had missed out on the little ones, those micro joys that weave themselves in and out of our lives on a daily basis but often go unnoticed. My days were overscheduled, my mind was overworked and my spirit was underfed.

According to the passage, what did Mother Teresa learned the hard way in her life?

A passage is given with five questions following it. Read the passage carefully and select the best answer to each question out of the given four alternatives.

The saddest part of life lies not in the act of dying, but in failing to truly live while we are alive. Too many of us play small with our lives, never letting the fullness of our humanity see the light of day. I’ve learned that what really counts in life, in the end, is not how many toys we have collected or how much money we’ve accumulated, but how many of our talents we have liberated and used for a purpose that adds value to this world. What truly matters most are the lives we have touched and the legacy that we have left. Tolstoy put it so well when he wrote: “We live for ourselves only when we live for others.” It took me forty years to discover this simple point of wisdom.

Forty long years to discover that success cannot really be pursued. Success ensues and flows into your life as the unintended yet inevitable byproduct of a life spent enriching the lives of other people. When you shift your daily focus from a compulsion to survive towards a lifelong commitment to serve, your existence cannot help but explode into success. I still can’t believe that I had to wait until the “half-time” of my life to figure out that true fulfillment as a human being comes not from achieving those grand gestures that put us on the front pages of the newspapers and business magazines, but instead from those basic and incremental acts of decency that each one of us has the privilege to practice each and every day if we simply make the choice to do so.

Mother Teresa, a great leader of human hearts if ever there was one, said it best: “There are no great acts, only small acts done with great love.” I learned this the hard way in my life. Until recently, I had been so busy striving, I had missed out on living. I was so busy chasing life’s big pleasures that I had missed out on the little ones, those micro joys that weave themselves in and out of our lives on a daily basis but often go unnoticed. My days were overscheduled, my mind was overworked and my spirit was underfed.

What according to the passage is success?

A passage is given with five questions following it. Read the passage carefully and select the best answer to each question out of the given four alternatives.

The saddest part of life lies not in the act of dying, but in failing to truly live while we are alive. Too many of us play small with our lives, never letting the fullness of our humanity see the light of day. I’ve learned that what really counts in life, in the end, is not how many toys we have collected or how much money we’ve accumulated, but how many of our talents we have liberated and used for a purpose that adds value to this world. What truly matters most are the lives we have touched and the legacy that we have left. Tolstoy put it so well when he wrote: “We live for ourselves only when we live for others.” It took me forty years to discover this simple point of wisdom.

Forty long years to discover that success cannot really be pursued. Success ensues and flows into your life as the unintended yet inevitable byproduct of a life spent enriching the lives of other people. When you shift your daily focus from a compulsion to survive towards a lifelong commitment to serve, your existence cannot help but explode into success. I still can’t believe that I had to wait until the “half-time” of my life to figure out that true fulfillment as a human being comes not from achieving those grand gestures that put us on the front pages of the newspapers and business magazines, but instead from those basic and incremental acts of decency that each one of us has the privilege to practice each and every day if we simply make the choice to do so.

Mother Teresa, a great leader of human hearts if ever there was one, said it best: “There are no great acts, only small acts done with great love.” I learned this the hard way in my life. Until recently, I had been so busy striving, I had missed out on living. I was so busy chasing life’s big pleasures that I had missed out on the little ones, those micro joys that weave themselves in and out of our lives on a daily basis but often go unnoticed. My days were overscheduled, my mind was overworked and my spirit was underfed.

According to the passage, what took Tolstoy forty years to discover?

A passage is given with five questions following it. Read the passage carefully and select the best answer to each question out of the given four alternatives.

The saddest part of life lies not in the act of dying, but in failing to truly live while we are alive. Too many of us play small with our lives, never letting the fullness of our humanity see the light of day. I’ve learned that what really counts in life, in the end, is not how many toys we have collected or how much money we’ve accumulated, but how many of our talents we have liberated and used for a purpose that adds value to this world. What truly matters most are the lives we have touched and the legacy that we have left. Tolstoy put it so well when he wrote: “We live for ourselves only when we live for others.” It took me forty years to discover this simple point of wisdom.

Forty long years to discover that success cannot really be pursued. Success ensues and flows into your life as the unintended yet inevitable byproduct of a life spent enriching the lives of other people. When you shift your daily focus from a compulsion to survive towards a lifelong commitment to serve, your existence cannot help but explode into success. I still can’t believe that I had to wait until the “half-time” of my life to figure out that true fulfillment as a human being comes not from achieving those grand gestures that put us on the front pages of the newspapers and business magazines, but instead from those basic and incremental acts of decency that each one of us has the privilege to practice each and every day if we simply make the choice to do so.

Mother Teresa, a great leader of human hearts if ever there was one, said it best: “There are no great acts, only small acts done with great love.” I learned this the hard way in my life. Until recently, I had been so busy striving, I had missed out on living. I was so busy chasing life’s big pleasures that I had missed out on the little ones, those micro joys that weave themselves in and out of our lives on a daily basis but often go unnoticed. My days were overscheduled, my mind was overworked and my spirit was underfed.

Suggest a suitable title for the passage?