The first writer to use Urdu as the medium of poetic expression was -

1. The first writer to use Urdu as the medium of poetic expression was - -

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MCQ->The first writer to use Urdu as the medium of poetic expression was - -....

MCQ-> Read the following passage carefully and answer the questions given at the end.The tight calendar had calmed him, as did the constant exertion of his authority as a judge. How he relished his power over the classes that had kept his family pinned under their heels for centuries - like the stenographer, for example, who was a Brahmin. There he was, now crawling into a tiny tent to the side, and there was Jemubhai reclining like a king in a bed carved out of teak, hung with mosquito netting."Bed tea", the cook would shout "Baaad tee". He would sit up to drink.6:30: he'd bathe in water that had been heated over the fire so it was redolent with the smell of wood smoke and flecked with ash. With a dusting of powder he graced his newly washed face, with a daub of pomade, his hair. Crunched up toast like charcoal from having been toasted upon the flame, with marmalade over the burn.8:30: he rode into the fields with the local officials and everyone else in the village going along for fun. Followed by an orderly holding an umbrella over his head to shield him from the glare, he measured the fields and checked to make sure his yield estimate matched the headman's statement. Farms were growing less than ten maunds an acre of rice or wheat, and at two rupees a maund, every single man in a village, sometimes, was in debt to the bania. (Nobody knew that Jemubhai himself was noosed, of course, that long ago in the little town of Piphit in Gujarat, money-lenders had sniffed out in him a winning combination of ambition and poverty ... that they still sat waiting cross-legged on a soiled mat in the market, snapping their toes, cracking their knuckles in anticipation of repayment .... ) 2.00: after lunch, the judge sat at his desk under a tree to try cases, usually in a cross mood, for he disliked the informality, hated the splotch of leaf shadow on him imparting an untidy mongrel look. Also, there was a worse aspect of contamination and corruption: he heard cases in Hindi, but they were recorded in Urdu by the stenographer and translated by the judge into a second record in English, although his own command of Hindi and Urdu was tenuous; the witnesses who couldn't read at all put their thumbprints at the bottom of "Read Over and Acknowledged Correct", as instructed. Nobody could be sure how much of the truth had fallen between languages, between languages and illiteracy; the clarity that justice demanded was nonexistent. Still, despite the leaf shadow and language confusion, he acquired a fearsome reputation for his speech that seemed to belong to no language at all, and for his face like a mask that conveyed something beyond human fallibility. The expression and manner honed here would carry him, eventually, all the way to the high court in Lucknow where, annoyed by lawless pigeons shuttlecocking about those tall, shadowy halls, he would preside, white powdered wig over white powdered face, hammer in hand.His photograph, thus attired, thus annoyed, was still up on the wall, in a parade of history glorifying the progress of Indian law and order. 4:30: tea had to be perfect, drop scones made in the frying pan. He would embark on them with forehead wrinkled, as if angrily mulling over something important, and then, as it would into his retirement, the draw of the sweet took over, and his stern work face would hatch an expression of tranquillity.5:30: out he went into the countryside with his fishing rod or gun. The countryside was full of game; lariats of migratory birds lassoed the sky in October; quail and partridge with lines of babies strung out behind whirred by like nursery toys that emit sound with movement; pheasant - fat foolish creatures, made to be shot - went scurrying through the bushes. The thunder of gunshot roiled away, the leaves shivered, and he experienced the profound silence that could come only after violence. One thing was always missing, though, the proof of the pudding, the prize of the action. the manliness in manhood, the partridge for the pot. because he returned with - Nothing!He was a terrible shot.8:00: the cook saved his reputation, cooked a chicken, brought it forth, proclaimed it "roast bastard", just as in the Englishman's favourite joke book of natives using incorrect English. But sometimes, eating that roast bustard, the judge felt the joke might also be on him, and he called for another rum, took a big gulp, and kept eating feeling as if he were eating himself, since he, too, was (was he?) part of the fun ....9:00: sipping Ovaltine, he filled out the registers with the day's gleanings. The Petromax lantern would be lit - what a noise it made - insects fording the black to dive - bomb him with soft flowers (moths), with iridescence (beetles). Lines, columns, and squares. He realized truth was best looked at in tiny aggregates, for many baby truths could yet add up to one big size unsavory lie. Last, in his diary also to be submitted to his superiors, he recorded the random observations of a cultured man, someone who was observant, schooled in literature as well as economics; and he made up hunting triumphs: two partridge ... one deer with thirty- inch horns....11:00: he had a hot water bottle in winter, and, in all seasons, to the sound of the wind buffeting the trees and the cook's snoring, he fell asleep.Which of the following statements is incorrect?
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MCQ-> A passage is given with 5 questions following it. Read the passage carefully and choose the best answer to each question out of the four alternatives and click the button corresponding to it. Worry is a very common thing. Even children worry as much as grown up people. In his childhood, the writer used to fear that his parents would die suddenly at night. His fear and anxiety was just imaginary. When he was on the war front in Mesopotamia, the writer came to a certain conclusion on worrying. He was a subaltern officer. It was not his duty to plan future actions of war. He was there only to carry out what the superiors would decide. So it was useless to worry. When he took that stand he slept soundly without worry. Here, the writer had some real reason to worry. But he could get rid of it when he found it was useless to worry. He followed the same principle when he was a prisoner of war and he was in Asiatic Turkey. There, too, he banished his worries because nothing of his future depended on himself. The future of the prisoners of war would depend on the various governments. Thus he was able to live there without much worry though he was a prisoner. But his deliberate suppression of worry during the war and as a prisoner did not wholly eradicate his worries. The fear had gone to his subconscious mind and remained there buried. After the war the writer was at home. But whenever a member of his family was absent he feared all sorts of mishap happening to him or her. Moreover, he had a recurring nightmare that he had become a prisoner of war and the war was not going to end. The worries without any real cause here were the manifestations of the fears that he had banished deliberately earlier.Why was the writer able to live in jail without much worry?
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