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

It was a bittersweet moment for me when I found out that I had been selected for the Sakura Science Exchange programme, a Robotics and IoT workshop in Japan. A fully-funded opportunity of a lifetime. Fly off to Saitama without a care on the world, and all I had to do was put into practice what I love to do – computer science. The bitter part of the episode – that I would lose two weeks of IB education, an almost literal mountain to cover when I got back – was quickly forgotten when I envisioned myself programming robots in the country that gave us Anime and sushi! It was with the eagerness to have an extended vacation in an un-visited land, and the opportunity to learn more about a subject that I am passionate about, that I headed to the Kempegowda International Airport outside Bengaluru. Little did I know this would be the experience of a lifetime, more for the endearing values of the Japanese culture that made their mark on me than anything else. The first feature of Japanese society that called out to me was the Discipline. Walking into the Narita International Airport, used as I was to the noisy crowds back in India, I quite literally lost my breath to the sight that awaited me. Be it the security check or baggage claim, somehow there was a silence that felt right. Everyone went about their activities without any confusion. And, contrary to the bharatiya custom of lazy pot-bellied officials, every guard and all counter personnel did what they were supposed to do to ensure this flow was maintained.

What aspect of Japanese culture left a mark on the writer?

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

It was a bittersweet moment for me when I found out that I had been selected for the Sakura Science Exchange programme, a Robotics and IoT workshop in Japan. A fully-funded opportunity of a lifetime. Fly off to Saitama without a care on the world, and all I had to do was put into practice what I love to do – computer science. The bitter part of the episode – that I would lose two weeks of IB education, an almost literal mountain to cover when I got back – was quickly forgotten when I envisioned myself programming robots in the country that gave us Anime and sushi! It was with the eagerness to have an extended vacation in an un-visited land, and the opportunity to learn more about a subject that I am passionate about, that I headed to the Kempegowda International Airport outside Bengaluru. Little did I know this would be the experience of a lifetime, more for the endearing values of the Japanese culture that made their mark on me than anything else. The first feature of Japanese society that called out to me was the Discipline. Walking into the Narita International Airport, used as I was to the noisy crowds back in India, I quite literally lost my breath to the sight that awaited me. Be it the security check or baggage claim, somehow there was a silence that felt right. Everyone went about their activities without any confusion. And, contrary to the bharatiya custom of lazy pot-bellied officials, every guard and all counter personnel did what they were supposed to do to ensure this flow was maintained.

Why was the writer travelling to Japan?

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

It was a bittersweet moment for me when I found out that I had been selected for the Sakura Science Exchange programme, a Robotics and IoT workshop in Japan. A fully-funded opportunity of a lifetime. Fly off to Saitama without a care on the world, and all I had to do was put into practice what I love to do – computer science. The bitter part of the episode – that I would lose two weeks of IB education, an almost literal mountain to cover when I got back – was quickly forgotten when I envisioned myself programming robots in the country that gave us Anime and sushi! It was with the eagerness to have an extended vacation in an un-visited land, and the opportunity to learn more about a subject that I am passionate about, that I headed to the Kempegowda International Airport outside Bengaluru. Little did I know this would be the experience of a lifetime, more for the endearing values of the Japanese culture that made their mark on me than anything else. The first feature of Japanese society that called out to me was the Discipline. Walking into the Narita International Airport, used as I was to the noisy crowds back in India, I quite literally lost my breath to the sight that awaited me. Be it the security check or baggage claim, somehow there was a silence that felt right. Everyone went about their activities without any confusion. And, contrary to the bharatiya custom of lazy pot-bellied officials, every guard and all counter personnel did what they were supposed to do to ensure this flow was maintained.

What did the writer notice when he arrived at Narita International Airport?

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

It was a bittersweet moment for me when I found out that I had been selected for the Sakura Science Exchange programme, a Robotics and IoT workshop in Japan. A fully-funded opportunity of a lifetime. Fly off to Saitama without a care on the world, and all I had to do was put into practice what I love to do – computer science. The bitter part of the episode – that I would lose two weeks of IB education, an almost literal mountain to cover when I got back – was quickly forgotten when I envisioned myself programming robots in the country that gave us Anime and sushi! It was with the eagerness to have an extended vacation in an un-visited land, and the opportunity to learn more about a subject that I am passionate about, that I headed to the Kempegowda International Airport outside Bengaluru. Little did I know this would be the experience of a lifetime, more for the endearing values of the Japanese culture that made their mark on me than anything else. The first feature of Japanese society that called out to me was the Discipline. Walking into the Narita International Airport, used as I was to the noisy crowds back in India, I quite literally lost my breath to the sight that awaited me. Be it the security check or baggage claim, somehow there was a silence that felt right. Everyone went about their activities without any confusion. And, contrary to the bharatiya custom of lazy pot-bellied officials, every guard and all counter personnel did what they were supposed to do to ensure this flow was maintained.

What was it that the writer did not like about his trip to Japan?

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?