CUET English: Verbal AbilityPassage. Free, no login required.

This Venice, which was a haughty, invincible, magnificent Republic for nearly fourteen hundred years; whose armies compelled the world's applause whenever and wherever they battled; whose navies well-nigh held dominion of the seas, and whose merchant fleets whitened the remotest oceans with their sails and loaded these piers with the products of every clime, is fallen a prey to poverty, neglect and melancholy decay. Six hundred years ago, Venice was the Autocrat of Commerce; her mart was the great commercial centre, the distributing-house from whence the enormous trade of the Orient was spread abroad over the Western world. Today, her piers are deserted, her warehouses are empty, her merchant fleets are vanished, her armies and her navies are but memories. Her glory is departed, and with her crumbling grandeur of wharves and palaces about her, she sits among her stagnant lagoons, forlorn and beggared, forgotten by the world. She that in her palmy days commanded the commerce of the hemisphere and made the weal or woe of nations with the beck of her discussant finger, has become the humblest among the peoples of the earth,--a peddler of glass beads for women, and trifling toys and trinkets for school-girls and children.

The venerable Mother of the Republics is scarce a fit subject for flippant speech or the idle gossiping of tourists. It seems a sort of sacrilege to disturb the glamour of old romance that pictures her to us softly from afar off as through a tinted mist, and curtains her ruin and her desolation from our view. One ought, indeed, to turn away from her rags, her poverty and her humiliation, and think of her only as she was when she sunk the fleets of Charlemagne; when she humbled Frederick Barbarossa or waved her victorious banners above the battlements of Constantinople.

This Venice, which was a haughty, invincible, magnificent Republic for nearly fourteen hundred years; whose armies compelled the world's applause whenever and wherever they battled; whose navies well-nigh held dominion of the seas, and whose merchant fleets whitened the remotest oceans with their sails and loaded these piers with the products of every clime, is fallen a prey to poverty, neglect and melancholy decay. Six hundred years ago, Venice was the Autocrat of Commerce; her mart was the great commercial centre, the distributing-house from whence the enormous trade of the Orient was spread abroad over the Western world. Today, her piers are deserted, her warehouses are empty, her merchant fleets are vanished, her armies and her navies are but memories. Her glory is departed, and with her crumbling grandeur of wharves and palaces about her, she sits among her stagnant lagoons, forlorn and beggared, forgotten by the world. She that in her palmy days commanded the commerce of the hemisphere and made the weal or woe of nations with the beck of her discussant finger, has become the humblest among the peoples of the earth,--a peddler of glass beads for women, and trifling toys and trinkets for school-girls and children.

The venerable Mother of the Republics is scarce a fit subject for flippant speech or the idle gossiping of tourists. It seems a sort of sacrilege to disturb the glamour of old romance that pictures her to us softly from afar off as through a tinted mist, and curtains her ruin and her desolation from our view. One ought, indeed, to turn away from her rags, her poverty and her humiliation, and think of her only as she was when she sunk the fleets of Charlemagne; when she humbled Frederick Barbarossa or waved her victorious banners above the battlements of Constantinople.

Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet's fancy a proper direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr. Elton's being a remarkably handsome man, with the most agreeable manners; and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his admiration, by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating as much liking on Harriet's side, as there could be any occasion for. She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton's being in the fairest way of falling in love, if not in love already. She had no scruple with regard to him. He talked of Harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could not suppose anything wanting which a little time would not add. His perception of the striking improvement of Harriet's manner, since her introduction at Hartfield, was not one of the least agreeable proofs of his growing attachment.

'You have given Miss Smith all that she required,' said he; 'you have made her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she came to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are infinitely superior to what she received from nature.'

'I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet only wanted to draw out, and receiving a few, very few hints. She had all the natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. I have done very little.'

'If it were admissible to contradict a lady,' said the gallant Mr. Elton -- 'I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, have taught her to think on points which had not fallen in her way before.'

Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet's fancy a proper direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr. Elton's being a remarkably handsome man, with the most agreeable manners; and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his admiration, by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating as much liking on Harriet's side, as there could be any occasion for. She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton's being in the fairest way of falling in love, if not in love already. She had no scruple with regard to him. He talked of Harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could not suppose anything wanting which a little time would not add. His perception of the striking improvement of Harriet's manner, since her introduction at Hartfield, was not one of the least agreeable proofs of his growing attachment.

'You have given Miss Smith all that she required,' said he; 'you have made her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she came to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are infinitely superior to what she received from nature.'

'I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet only wanted to draw out, and receiving a few, very few hints. She had all the natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. I have done very little.'

'If it were admissible to contradict a lady,' said the gallant Mr. Elton -- 'I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, have taught her to think on points which had not fallen in her way before.'

Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet's fancy a proper direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr. Elton's being a remarkably handsome man, with the most agreeable manners; and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his admiration, by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating as much liking on Harriet's side, as there could be any occasion for. She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton's being in the fairest way of falling in love, if not in love already. She had no scruple with regard to him. He talked of Harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could not suppose anything wanting which a little time would not add. His perception of the striking improvement of Harriet's manner, since her introduction at Hartfield, was not one of the least agreeable proofs of his growing attachment.

'You have given Miss Smith all that she required,' said he; 'you have made her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she came to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are infinitely superior to what she received from nature.'

'I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet only wanted to draw out, and receiving a few, very few hints. She had all the natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. I have done very little.'

'If it were admissible to contradict a lady,' said the gallant Mr. Elton -- 'I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, have taught her to think on points which had not fallen in her way before.'

Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet's fancy a proper direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr. Elton's being a remarkably handsome man, with the most agreeable manners; and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his admiration, by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating as much liking on Harriet's side, as there could be any occasion for. She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton's being in the fairest way of falling in love, if not in love already. She had no scruple with regard to him. He talked of Harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could not suppose anything wanting which a little time would not add. His perception of the striking improvement of Harriet's manner, since her introduction at Hartfield, was not one of the least agreeable proofs of his growing attachment.

'You have given Miss Smith all that she required,' said he; 'you have made her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she came to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are infinitely superior to what she received from nature.'

'I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet only wanted to draw out, and receiving a few, very few hints. She had all the natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. I have done very little.'

'If it were admissible to contradict a lady,' said the gallant Mr. Elton -- 'I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, have taught her to think on points which had not fallen in her way before.'

Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet's fancy a proper direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr. Elton's being a remarkably handsome man, with the most agreeable manners; and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his admiration, by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating as much liking on Harriet's side, as there could be any occasion for. She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton's being in the fairest way of falling in love, if not in love already. She had no scruple with regard to him. He talked of Harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could not suppose anything wanting which a little time would not add. His perception of the striking improvement of Harriet's manner, since her introduction at Hartfield, was not one of the least agreeable proofs of his growing attachment.

'You have given Miss Smith all that she required,' said he; 'you have made her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she came to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are infinitely superior to what she received from nature.'

'I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet only wanted to draw out, and receiving a few, very few hints. She had all the natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. I have done very little.'

'If it were admissible to contradict a lady,' said the gallant Mr. Elton -- 'I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, have taught her to think on points which had not fallen in her way before.'

In the ancient city of Varanasi, Arjun found his world transformed one monsoon afternoon. Born into a family of hardworking labourers, he was expected to follow in his father's footsteps, yet, Arjun harboured an unspoken passion for art that no one knew about. As dark clouds gathered and the first raindrops fell, he wandered through the narrow lanes of the old city, seeking solace from the predictable rhythm of life.

That day, as he took refuge under a vibrant awning in a bustling market, Arjun encountered an old painter named Raghav. With paint splattered hands and eyes that shimmered with decades of experience, Raghav noticed a spark in Arjun's eyes. He invited Arjun into his humble studio where canvases whispered stories of love, loss and hope. Inspired by Raghav's gentle mentorship, Arjun discovered his own unique style, blending tradition with innovation.

Over the time, his artwork became a mirror reflecting the emotions of the city and his reputation grew. Arjun's journey from a reluctant son to an emerging artist was not without hardship. Yet every challenge became a brushstroke in the masterpiece of his life. Eventually, his creations graced galleries beyond Varanasi, uniting cultures and hearts. In every piece, Arjun celebrated the resilience of the human spirit, provng that passion and perseverance can transform even the most ordinary life into a vibrant work of art.

His journey filled with unexpected lessons and creative breakthroughs taught him that every struggle offered a chance to begin anew, inspiring his art with hope and transformation.

In the ancient city of Varanasi, Arjun found his world transformed one monsoon afternoon. Born into a family of hardworking labourers, he was expected to follow in his father's footsteps, yet, Arjun harboured an unspoken passion for art that no one knew about. As dark clouds gathered and the first raindrops fell, he wandered through the narrow lanes of the old city, seeking solace from the predictable rhythm of life.

That day, as he took refuge under a vibrant awning in a bustling market, Arjun encountered an old painter named Raghav. With paint splattered hands and eyes that shimmered with decades of experience, Raghav noticed a spark in Arjun's eyes. He invited Arjun into his humble studio where canvases whispered stories of love, loss and hope. Inspired by Raghav's gentle mentorship, Arjun discovered his own unique style, blending tradition with innovation.

Over the time, his artwork became a mirror reflecting the emotions of the city and his reputation grew. Arjun's journey from a reluctant son to an emerging artist was not without hardship. Yet every challenge became a brushstroke in the masterpiece of his life. Eventually, his creations graced galleries beyond Varanasi, uniting cultures and hearts. In every piece, Arjun celebrated the resilience of the human spirit, provng that passion and perseverance can transform even the most ordinary life into a vibrant work of art.

His journey filled with unexpected lessons and creative breakthroughs taught him that every struggle offered a chance to begin anew, inspiring his art with hope and transformation.

In the ancient city of Varanasi, Arjun found his world transformed one monsoon afternoon. Born into a family of hardworking labourers, he was expected to follow in his father's footsteps, yet, Arjun harboured an unspoken passion for art that no one knew about. As dark clouds gathered and the first raindrops fell, he wandered through the narrow lanes of the old city, seeking solace from the predictable rhythm of life.

That day, as he took refuge under a vibrant awning in a bustling market, Arjun encountered an old painter named Raghav. With paint splattered hands and eyes that shimmered with decades of experience, Raghav noticed a spark in Arjun's eyes. He invited Arjun into his humble studio where canvases whispered stories of love, loss and hope. Inspired by Raghav's gentle mentorship, Arjun discovered his own unique style, blending tradition with innovation.

Over the time, his artwork became a mirror reflecting the emotions of the city and his reputation grew. Arjun's journey from a reluctant son to an emerging artist was not without hardship. Yet every challenge became a brushstroke in the masterpiece of his life. Eventually, his creations graced galleries beyond Varanasi, uniting cultures and hearts. In every piece, Arjun celebrated the resilience of the human spirit, provng that passion and perseverance can transform even the most ordinary life into a vibrant work of art.

His journey filled with unexpected lessons and creative breakthroughs taught him that every struggle offered a chance to begin anew, inspiring his art with hope and transformation.

In the ancient city of Varanasi, Arjun found his world transformed one monsoon afternoon. Born into a family of hardworking labourers, he was expected to follow in his father's footsteps, yet, Arjun harboured an unspoken passion for art that no one knew about. As dark clouds gathered and the first raindrops fell, he wandered through the narrow lanes of the old city, seeking solace from the predictable rhythm of life.

That day, as he took refuge under a vibrant awning in a bustling market, Arjun encountered an old painter named Raghav. With paint splattered hands and eyes that shimmered with decades of experience, Raghav noticed a spark in Arjun's eyes. He invited Arjun into his humble studio where canvases whispered stories of love, loss and hope. Inspired by Raghav's gentle mentorship, Arjun discovered his own unique style, blending tradition with innovation.

Over the time, his artwork became a mirror reflecting the emotions of the city and his reputation grew. Arjun's journey from a reluctant son to an emerging artist was not without hardship. Yet every challenge became a brushstroke in the masterpiece of his life. Eventually, his creations graced galleries beyond Varanasi, uniting cultures and hearts. In every piece, Arjun celebrated the resilience of the human spirit, provng that passion and perseverance can transform even the most ordinary life into a vibrant work of art.

His journey filled with unexpected lessons and creative breakthroughs taught him that every struggle offered a chance to begin anew, inspiring his art with hope and transformation.

In the ancient city of Varanasi, Arjun found his world transformed one monsoon afternoon. Born into a family of hardworking labourers, he was expected to follow in his father's footsteps, yet, Arjun harboured an unspoken passion for art that no one knew about. As dark clouds gathered and the first raindrops fell, he wandered through the narrow lanes of the old city, seeking solace from the predictable rhythm of life.

That day, as he took refuge under a vibrant awning in a bustling market, Arjun encountered an old painter named Raghav. With paint splattered hands and eyes that shimmered with decades of experience, Raghav noticed a spark in Arjun's eyes. He invited Arjun into his humble studio where canvases whispered stories of love, loss and hope. Inspired by Raghav's gentle mentorship, Arjun discovered his own unique style, blending tradition with innovation.

Over the time, his artwork became a mirror reflecting the emotions of the city and his reputation grew. Arjun's journey from a reluctant son to an emerging artist was not without hardship. Yet every challenge became a brushstroke in the masterpiece of his life. Eventually, his creations graced galleries beyond Varanasi, uniting cultures and hearts. In every piece, Arjun celebrated the resilience of the human spirit, provng that passion and perseverance can transform even the most ordinary life into a vibrant work of art.

His journey filled with unexpected lessons and creative breakthroughs taught him that every struggle offered a chance to begin anew, inspiring his art with hope and transformation.

I wept like a child. It was not because I was overcome at having survived my ordeal, though I was. Nor was it the presence of my brothers and sisters, though that too was very moving. I was weeping because Richard Parker had left me so unceremoniously. What a terrible thing it is to botch a farewell. I am a person who believes in form, in the harmony of order. Where we can, we must give a meaningful shape. For example--I wonder--could you tell my jumbled story in exactly one hundred chapters, not one more, not one less? I'll tell you, that's one thing I hate about my nickname, the way that number runs on forever. It's important in life to conclude things properly. Only then you can let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse. That bungled goodbye hurts me to this day. I wish so much that I'd had one last look at him in the lifeboat, that I'd provoked him a little, so that I was on his mind. I wish I had said to him then-- yes, I know, to a tiger, but still-- I wish I had said, "Richard Parker, it's over. We have survived. Can you believe it? I owe you more gratitude than I can express. I couldn't have done it without you. I would like to say it formally: Richard Parker, thank you. Thank you for saving my life. And now go where you must. You have known the confined freedom of a zoo most of your life; now you will know the free confinement of a jungle. I wish you all the best with it. Watch out for Man. He is not your friend. But I hope you remember me as a friend."

(An excerpt from 'Life of Pi')

I wept like a child. It was not because I was overcome at having survived my ordeal, though I was. Nor was it the presence of my brothers and sisters, though that too was very moving. I was weeping because Richard Parker had left me so unceremoniously. What a terrible thing it is to botch a farewell. I am a person who believes in form, in the harmony of order. Where we can, we must give a meaningful shape. For example--I wonder--could you tell my jumbled story in exactly one hundred chapters, not one more, not one less? I'll tell you, that's one thing I hate about my nickname, the way that number runs on forever. It's important in life to conclude things properly. Only then you can let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse. That bungled goodbye hurts me to this day. I wish so much that I'd had one last look at him in the lifeboat, that I'd provoked him a little, so that I was on his mind. I wish I had said to him then-- yes, I know, to a tiger, but still-- I wish I had said, "Richard Parker, it's over. We have survived. Can you believe it? I owe you more gratitude than I can express. I couldn't have done it without you. I would like to say it formally: Richard Parker, thank you. Thank you for saving my life. And now go where you must. You have known the confined freedom of a zoo most of your life; now you will know the free confinement of a jungle. I wish you all the best with it. Watch out for Man. He is not your friend. But I hope you remember me as a friend."

(An excerpt from 'Life of Pi')

I wept like a child. It was not because I was overcome at having survived my ordeal, though I was. Nor was it the presence of my brothers and sisters, though that too was very moving. I was weeping because Richard Parker had left me so unceremoniously. What a terrible thing it is to botch a farewell. I am a person who believes in form, in the harmony of order. Where we can, we must give a meaningful shape. For example--I wonder--could you tell my jumbled story in exactly one hundred chapters, not one more, not one less? I'll tell you, that's one thing I hate about my nickname, the way that number runs on forever. It's important in life to conclude things properly. Only then you can let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse. That bungled goodbye hurts me to this day. I wish so much that I'd had one last look at him in the lifeboat, that I'd provoked him a little, so that I was on his mind. I wish I had said to him then-- yes, I know, to a tiger, but still-- I wish I had said, "Richard Parker, it's over. We have survived. Can you believe it? I owe you more gratitude than I can express. I couldn't have done it without you. I would like to say it formally: Richard Parker, thank you. Thank you for saving my life. And now go where you must. You have known the confined freedom of a zoo most of your life; now you will know the free confinement of a jungle. I wish you all the best with it. Watch out for Man. He is not your friend. But I hope you remember me as a friend."

(An excerpt from 'Life of Pi')

I wept like a child. It was not because I was overcome at having survived my ordeal, though I was. Nor was it the presence of my brothers and sisters, though that too was very moving. I was weeping because Richard Parker had left me so unceremoniously. What a terrible thing it is to botch a farewell. I am a person who believes in form, in the harmony of order. Where we can, we must give a meaningful shape. For example--I wonder--could you tell my jumbled story in exactly one hundred chapters, not one more, not one less? I'll tell you, that's one thing I hate about my nickname, the way that number runs on forever. It's important in life to conclude things properly. Only then you can let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse. That bungled goodbye hurts me to this day. I wish so much that I'd had one last look at him in the lifeboat, that I'd provoked him a little, so that I was on his mind. I wish I had said to him then-- yes, I know, to a tiger, but still-- I wish I had said, "Richard Parker, it's over. We have survived. Can you believe it? I owe you more gratitude than I can express. I couldn't have done it without you. I would like to say it formally: Richard Parker, thank you. Thank you for saving my life. And now go where you must. You have known the confined freedom of a zoo most of your life; now you will know the free confinement of a jungle. I wish you all the best with it. Watch out for Man. He is not your friend. But I hope you remember me as a friend."

(An excerpt from 'Life of Pi')

I wept like a child. It was not because I was overcome at having survived my ordeal, though I was. Nor was it the presence of my brothers and sisters, though that too was very moving. I was weeping because Richard Parker had left me so unceremoniously. What a terrible thing it is to botch a farewell. I am a person who believes in form, in the harmony of order. Where we can, we must give a meaningful shape. For example--I wonder--could you tell my jumbled story in exactly one hundred chapters, not one more, not one less? I'll tell you, that's one thing I hate about my nickname, the way that number runs on forever. It's important in life to conclude things properly. Only then you can let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse. That bungled goodbye hurts me to this day. I wish so much that I'd had one last look at him in the lifeboat, that I'd provoked him a little, so that I was on his mind. I wish I had said to him then-- yes, I know, to a tiger, but still-- I wish I had said, "Richard Parker, it's over. We have survived. Can you believe it? I owe you more gratitude than I can express. I couldn't have done it without you. I would like to say it formally: Richard Parker, thank you. Thank you for saving my life. And now go where you must. You have known the confined freedom of a zoo most of your life; now you will know the free confinement of a jungle. I wish you all the best with it. Watch out for Man. He is not your friend. But I hope you remember me as a friend."

(An excerpt from 'Life of Pi')

Prolixity is not alien to us in India. We are able to talk at some length. Krishna Menon's record of the longest speech ever delivered at the United Nations (nine hours non-stop), established half a century ago, has not been equalled by anyone from anywhere. Other peaks of loquaciousness have been scaled by other Indians. We do like to speak.

This is not a new habit. The ancient Sanskrit epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, which are frequently compared with the Iliad and the Odyssey, are colossally longer than the works that the modest Homer could manage. Indeed, the Mahabharata alone is about seven times as long as the Iliad and the Odyssey put together. The Ramayana and the Mahabharata are certainly great epics: I recall with much joy how my own life was vastly enriched when I encountered them first as a restless youngster looking for intellectual stimulation as well as sheer entertainment. But they proceed from story to story woven around their principal tales, and are engagingly full of dialogues, dilemmas, and alternative perspectives. And we encounter masses of arguments and counterarguments spread over incessant debates and disputations.

The arguments are also, often enough, quite substantive. For example, the famous Bhagavad Gita, which is one small section of the Mahabharata, presents a tussle between two contrary moral positions—Krishna's emphasis on doing one's duty, on one side, and Arjuna's focus on avoiding bad consequences, on the other. The debate occurs on the eve of the great war that is a central event in the Mahabharata. Watching the two armies readying for war, profound doubts about the correctness of what they are doing are raised by Arjuna, the peerless and invincible warrior in the army of the just and honorable royal family (the Pandavas), who are about to fight the unjust usurpers (the Kauravas).

Prolixity is not alien to us in India. We are able to talk at some length. Krishna Menon's record of the longest speech ever delivered at the United Nations (nine hours non-stop), established half a century ago, has not been equalled by anyone from anywhere. Other peaks of loquaciousness have been scaled by other Indians. We do like to speak.

This is not a new habit. The ancient Sanskrit epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, which are frequently compared with the Iliad and the Odyssey, are colossally longer than the works that the modest Homer could manage. Indeed, the Mahabharata alone is about seven times as long as the Iliad and the Odyssey put together. The Ramayana and the Mahabharata are certainly great epics: I recall with much joy how my own life was vastly enriched when I encountered them first as a restless youngster looking for intellectual stimulation as well as sheer entertainment. But they proceed from story to story woven around their principal tales, and are engagingly full of dialogues, dilemmas, and alternative perspectives. And we encounter masses of arguments and counterarguments spread over incessant debates and disputations.

The arguments are also, often enough, quite substantive. For example, the famous Bhagavad Gita, which is one small section of the Mahabharata, presents a tussle between two contrary moral positions—Krishna's emphasis on doing one's duty, on one side, and Arjuna's focus on avoiding bad consequences, on the other. The debate occurs on the eve of the great war that is a central event in the Mahabharata. Watching the two armies readying for war, profound doubts about the correctness of what they are doing are raised by Arjuna, the peerless and invincible warrior in the army of the just and honorable royal family (the Pandavas), who are about to fight the unjust usurpers (the Kauravas).

Prolixity is not alien to us in India. We are able to talk at some length. Krishna Menon's record of the longest speech ever delivered at the United Nations (nine hours non-stop), established half a century ago, has not been equalled by anyone from anywhere. Other peaks of loquaciousness have been scaled by other Indians. We do like to speak.

This is not a new habit. The ancient Sanskrit epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, which are frequently compared with the Iliad and the Odyssey, are colossally longer than the works that the modest Homer could manage. Indeed, the Mahabharata alone is about seven times as long as the Iliad and the Odyssey put together. The Ramayana and the Mahabharata are certainly great epics: I recall with much joy how my own life was vastly enriched when I encountered them first as a restless youngster looking for intellectual stimulation as well as sheer entertainment. But they proceed from story to story woven around their principal tales, and are engagingly full of dialogues, dilemmas, and alternative perspectives. And we encounter masses of arguments and counterarguments spread over incessant debates and disputations.

The arguments are also, often enough, quite substantive. For example, the famous Bhagavad Gita, which is one small section of the Mahabharata, presents a tussle between two contrary moral positions—Krishna's emphasis on doing one's duty, on one side, and Arjuna's focus on avoiding bad consequences, on the other. The debate occurs on the eve of the great war that is a central event in the Mahabharata. Watching the two armies readying for war, profound doubts about the correctness of what they are doing are raised by Arjuna, the peerless and invincible warrior in the army of the just and honorable royal family (the Pandavas), who are about to fight the unjust usurpers (the Kauravas).

Prolixity is not alien to us in India. We are able to talk at some length. Krishna Menon's record of the longest speech ever delivered at the United Nations (nine hours non-stop), established half a century ago, has not been equalled by anyone from anywhere. Other peaks of loquaciousness have been scaled by other Indians. We do like to speak.

This is not a new habit. The ancient Sanskrit epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, which are frequently compared with the Iliad and the Odyssey, are colossally longer than the works that the modest Homer could manage. Indeed, the Mahabharata alone is about seven times as long as the Iliad and the Odyssey put together. The Ramayana and the Mahabharata are certainly great epics: I recall with much joy how my own life was vastly enriched when I encountered them first as a restless youngster looking for intellectual stimulation as well as sheer entertainment. But they proceed from story to story woven around their principal tales, and are engagingly full of dialogues, dilemmas, and alternative perspectives. And we encounter masses of arguments and counterarguments spread over incessant debates and disputations.

The arguments are also, often enough, quite substantive. For example, the famous Bhagavad Gita, which is one small section of the Mahabharata, presents a tussle between two contrary moral positions—Krishna's emphasis on doing one's duty, on one side, and Arjuna's focus on avoiding bad consequences, on the other. The debate occurs on the eve of the great war that is a central event in the Mahabharata. Watching the two armies readying for war, profound doubts about the correctness of what they are doing are raised by Arjuna, the peerless and invincible warrior in the army of the just and honorable royal family (the Pandavas), who are about to fight the unjust usurpers (the Kauravas).

Prolixity is not alien to us in India. We are able to talk at some length. Krishna Menon's record of the longest speech ever delivered at the United Nations (nine hours non-stop), established half a century ago, has not been equalled by anyone from anywhere. Other peaks of loquaciousness have been scaled by other Indians. We do like to speak.

This is not a new habit. The ancient Sanskrit epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, which are frequently compared with the Iliad and the Odyssey, are colossally longer than the works that the modest Homer could manage. Indeed, the Mahabharata alone is about seven times as long as the Iliad and the Odyssey put together. The Ramayana and the Mahabharata are certainly great epics: I recall with much joy how my own life was vastly enriched when I encountered them first as a restless youngster looking for intellectual stimulation as well as sheer entertainment. But they proceed from story to story woven around their principal tales, and are engagingly full of dialogues, dilemmas, and alternative perspectives. And we encounter masses of arguments and counterarguments spread over incessant debates and disputations.

The arguments are also, often enough, quite substantive. For example, the famous Bhagavad Gita, which is one small section of the Mahabharata, presents a tussle between two contrary moral positions—Krishna's emphasis on doing one's duty, on one side, and Arjuna's focus on avoiding bad consequences, on the other. The debate occurs on the eve of the great war that is a central event in the Mahabharata. Watching the two armies readying for war, profound doubts about the correctness of what they are doing are raised by Arjuna, the peerless and invincible warrior in the army of the just and honorable royal family (the Pandavas), who are about to fight the unjust usurpers (the Kauravas).

Everything we associate with the rejuvenation of life is intertwined with the seasons. Think of holidays and harvests, festivals of tunes and tinsel, altered ocean currents heaving with young fish. Remember the skies suddenly agleam with vibrant visitor-birds or beaches hosting turtles born and birthing there. All beings on Earth are shaped by the seasons—which makes unnatural changes in these crucial cycles concerning. Consider how summer in western countries now stretches to half the year while winter has shrunk, withdrawing its draperies of snow. Spring has lengthened, bringing in more pollen and invasive species, while in the east, the monsoon is more erratic, spewing rains of wild velocity. Summers have grown unbelievably hot—and we all know that choking 'smog season', months of dense air pollution covering us like a filthy blanket.

Natural seasons come from Earth orbiting the sun—the closer we get, the warmer we feel, the farther we go, life gets colder. However, these changing climes—unending summers, chopped-up winters, howling typhoons—are courtesy of us. The Anthropocene is the era of human impacts reshaping Earth, with one main cause: the more we burn fossil fuels, the more greenhouse gases—carbon, sulfur, methane—are emitted. These block our planet's natural processes of releasing heat into space, trapping it within. As the planet heats—we are now 1.5 degrees hotter than preindustrial times—it collapses.

Thus, melting Arctic ice has reached a record low alongside massive glacial retreat in Antarctica. As the oceans swell, water is absorbed by winds unleashing this as 'unseasonal' rain. This wonky water cycle also spurs droughts—dry months burst into wildfires, reducing Amazon forest and Hollywood studio equally to smoke and dust. In the relentless logic of the Anthropocene, nothing is wasted—hence, that smoke and dust return somewhere as a 'season of smog'. Yet, there are solutions.

Everything we associate with the rejuvenation of life is intertwined with the seasons. Think of holidays and harvests, festivals of tunes and tinsel, altered ocean currents heaving with young fish. Remember the skies suddenly agleam with vibrant visitor-birds or beaches hosting turtles born and birthing there. All beings on Earth are shaped by the seasons—which makes unnatural changes in these crucial cycles concerning. Consider how summer in western countries now stretches to half the year while winter has shrunk, withdrawing its draperies of snow. Spring has lengthened, bringing in more pollen and invasive species, while in the east, the monsoon is more erratic, spewing rains of wild velocity. Summers have grown unbelievably hot—and we all know that choking 'smog season', months of dense air pollution covering us like a filthy blanket.

Natural seasons come from Earth orbiting the sun—the closer we get, the warmer we feel, the farther we go, life gets colder. However, these changing climes—unending summers, chopped-up winters, howling typhoons—are courtesy of us. The Anthropocene is the era of human impacts reshaping Earth, with one main cause: the more we burn fossil fuels, the more greenhouse gases—carbon, sulfur, methane—are emitted. These block our planet's natural processes of releasing heat into space, trapping it within. As the planet heats—we are now 1.5 degrees hotter than preindustrial times—it collapses.

Thus, melting Arctic ice has reached a record low alongside massive glacial retreat in Antarctica. As the oceans swell, water is absorbed by winds unleashing this as 'unseasonal' rain. This wonky water cycle also spurs droughts—dry months burst into wildfires, reducing Amazon forest and Hollywood studio equally to smoke and dust. In the relentless logic of the Anthropocene, nothing is wasted—hence, that smoke and dust return somewhere as a 'season of smog'. Yet, there are solutions.

Everything we associate with the rejuvenation of life is intertwined with the seasons. Think of holidays and harvests, festivals of tunes and tinsel, altered ocean currents heaving with young fish. Remember the skies suddenly agleam with vibrant visitor-birds or beaches hosting turtles born and birthing there. All beings on Earth are shaped by the seasons—which makes unnatural changes in these crucial cycles concerning. Consider how summer in western countries now stretches to half the year while winter has shrunk, withdrawing its draperies of snow. Spring has lengthened, bringing in more pollen and invasive species, while in the east, the monsoon is more erratic, spewing rains of wild velocity. Summers have grown unbelievably hot—and we all know that choking 'smog season', months of dense air pollution covering us like a filthy blanket.

Natural seasons come from Earth orbiting the sun—the closer we get, the warmer we feel, the farther we go, life gets colder. However, these changing climes—unending summers, chopped-up winters, howling typhoons—are courtesy of us. The Anthropocene is the era of human impacts reshaping Earth, with one main cause: the more we burn fossil fuels, the more greenhouse gases—carbon, sulfur, methane—are emitted. These block our planet's natural processes of releasing heat into space, trapping it within. As the planet heats—we are now 1.5 degrees hotter than preindustrial times—it collapses.

Thus, melting Arctic ice has reached a record low alongside massive glacial retreat in Antarctica. As the oceans swell, water is absorbed by winds unleashing this as 'unseasonal' rain. This wonky water cycle also spurs droughts—dry months burst into wildfires, reducing Amazon forest and Hollywood studio equally to smoke and dust. In the relentless logic of the Anthropocene, nothing is wasted—hence, that smoke and dust return somewhere as a 'season of smog'. Yet, there are solutions.

Everything we associate with the rejuvenation of life is intertwined with the seasons. Think of holidays and harvests, festivals of tunes and tinsel, altered ocean currents heaving with young fish. Remember the skies suddenly agleam with vibrant visitor-birds or beaches hosting turtles born and birthing there. All beings on Earth are shaped by the seasons—which makes unnatural changes in these crucial cycles concerning. Consider how summer in western countries now stretches to half the year while winter has shrunk, withdrawing its draperies of snow. Spring has lengthened, bringing in more pollen and invasive species, while in the east, the monsoon is more erratic, spewing rains of wild velocity. Summers have grown unbelievably hot—and we all know that choking 'smog season', months of dense air pollution covering us like a filthy blanket.

Natural seasons come from Earth orbiting the sun—the closer we get, the warmer we feel, the farther we go, life gets colder. However, these changing climes—unending summers, chopped-up winters, howling typhoons—are courtesy of us. The Anthropocene is the era of human impacts reshaping Earth, with one main cause: the more we burn fossil fuels, the more greenhouse gases—carbon, sulfur, methane—are emitted. These block our planet's natural processes of releasing heat into space, trapping it within. As the planet heats—we are now 1.5 degrees hotter than preindustrial times—it collapses.

Thus, melting Arctic ice has reached a record low alongside massive glacial retreat in Antarctica. As the oceans swell, water is absorbed by winds unleashing this as 'unseasonal' rain. This wonky water cycle also spurs droughts—dry months burst into wildfires, reducing Amazon forest and Hollywood studio equally to smoke and dust. In the relentless logic of the Anthropocene, nothing is wasted—hence, that smoke and dust return somewhere as a 'season of smog'. Yet, there are solutions.

Everything we associate with the rejuvenation of life is intertwined with the seasons. Think of holidays and harvests, festivals of tunes and tinsel, altered ocean currents heaving with young fish. Remember the skies suddenly agleam with vibrant visitor-birds or beaches hosting turtles born and birthing there. All beings on Earth are shaped by the seasons—which makes unnatural changes in these crucial cycles concerning. Consider how summer in western countries now stretches to half the year while winter has shrunk, withdrawing its draperies of snow. Spring has lengthened, bringing in more pollen and invasive species, while in the east, the monsoon is more erratic, spewing rains of wild velocity. Summers have grown unbelievably hot—and we all know that choking 'smog season', months of dense air pollution covering us like a filthy blanket.

Natural seasons come from Earth orbiting the sun—the closer we get, the warmer we feel, the farther we go, life gets colder. However, these changing climes—unending summers, chopped-up winters, howling typhoons—are courtesy of us. The Anthropocene is the era of human impacts reshaping Earth, with one main cause: the more we burn fossil fuels, the more greenhouse gases—carbon, sulfur, methane—are emitted. These block our planet's natural processes of releasing heat into space, trapping it within. As the planet heats—we are now 1.5 degrees hotter than preindustrial times—it collapses.

Thus, melting Arctic ice has reached a record low alongside massive glacial retreat in Antarctica. As the oceans swell, water is absorbed by winds unleashing this as 'unseasonal' rain. This wonky water cycle also spurs droughts—dry months burst into wildfires, reducing Amazon forest and Hollywood studio equally to smoke and dust. In the relentless logic of the Anthropocene, nothing is wasted—hence, that smoke and dust return somewhere as a 'season of smog'. Yet, there are solutions.

Immersing oneself in nature can profoundly impact physical health. Outdoor activities such as hiking, biking or walking in natural settings improve cardiovascular health, increase fitness levels and reduce stress. Breathing fresh air and soaking up sunlight also enhances vitamin D production, supporting bone health and boosting the immune system.

Nature is a powerful antidote to stress and anxiety, promoting mental and emotional well-being. Nature's sights, sounds, and smells calm the mind, reducing tension and enhancing mood. Studies have shown that spending time in natural environments decreases symptoms of depression and anxiety while increasing feelings of happiness and well-being. The beauty and tranquility of nature provide a much-needed escape from the pressures of daily life, allowing for reflection, mindfulness and relaxation.

Immersion in natural settings fosters a sense of awe, wonder and spirituality, encouraging contemplation and introspection. The rhythmic sounds of waves crashing on the shore, the rustling of leaves or the sight of a breathtaking sunset can evoke a sense of peace and serenity.

Engaging in gardening or spending time in green spaces has been recognised as "eco-therapy" or "green therapy." Working with plants, digging in the soil and tending to a garden have been shown to reduce symptoms of stress, anxiety and depression. Caring for living things and witnessing the growth and transformation of plants brings a sense of purpose and fulfillment. Furthermore, participation in nature conservation efforts allows individuals to contribute to the planet's well-being and fostering a sense of environmental stewardship.

Immersing oneself in nature can profoundly impact physical health. Outdoor activities such as hiking, biking or walking in natural settings improve cardiovascular health, increase fitness levels and reduce stress. Breathing fresh air and soaking up sunlight also enhances vitamin D production, supporting bone health and boosting the immune system.

Nature is a powerful antidote to stress and anxiety, promoting mental and emotional well-being. Nature's sights, sounds, and smells calm the mind, reducing tension and enhancing mood. Studies have shown that spending time in natural environments decreases symptoms of depression and anxiety while increasing feelings of happiness and well-being. The beauty and tranquility of nature provide a much-needed escape from the pressures of daily life, allowing for reflection, mindfulness and relaxation.

Immersion in natural settings fosters a sense of awe, wonder and spirituality, encouraging contemplation and introspection. The rhythmic sounds of waves crashing on the shore, the rustling of leaves or the sight of a breathtaking sunset can evoke a sense of peace and serenity.

Engaging in gardening or spending time in green spaces has been recognised as "eco-therapy" or "green therapy." Working with plants, digging in the soil and tending to a garden have been shown to reduce symptoms of stress, anxiety and depression. Caring for living things and witnessing the growth and transformation of plants brings a sense of purpose and fulfillment. Furthermore, participation in nature conservation efforts allows individuals to contribute to the planet's well-being and fostering a sense of environmental stewardship.

Immersing oneself in nature can profoundly impact physical health. Outdoor activities such as hiking, biking or walking in natural settings improve cardiovascular health, increase fitness levels and reduce stress. Breathing fresh air and soaking up sunlight also enhances vitamin D production, supporting bone health and boosting the immune system.

Nature is a powerful antidote to stress and anxiety, promoting mental and emotional well-being. Nature's sights, sounds, and smells calm the mind, reducing tension and enhancing mood. Studies have shown that spending time in natural environments decreases symptoms of depression and anxiety while increasing feelings of happiness and well-being. The beauty and tranquility of nature provide a much-needed escape from the pressures of daily life, allowing for reflection, mindfulness and relaxation.

Immersion in natural settings fosters a sense of awe, wonder and spirituality, encouraging contemplation and introspection. The rhythmic sounds of waves crashing on the shore, the rustling of leaves or the sight of a breathtaking sunset can evoke a sense of peace and serenity.

Engaging in gardening or spending time in green spaces has been recognised as "eco-therapy" or "green therapy." Working with plants, digging in the soil and tending to a garden have been shown to reduce symptoms of stress, anxiety and depression. Caring for living things and witnessing the growth and transformation of plants brings a sense of purpose and fulfillment. Furthermore, participation in nature conservation efforts allows individuals to contribute to the planet's well-being and fostering a sense of environmental stewardship.