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Passage-I

He walked several miles that day but could not get anything to eat or drink except some dry bread and some water, which he got from cottagers and farmers. As night fell, he slept under a haystack lying in a meadow. He felt frightened at first, for the wind blew awfully over the empty fields. He felt cold and hungry, and was feeling more lonely than he had ever felt before. He, however, soon fell asleep, being much tired with his long walk. When he got up next day, he was feeling terribly hungry so he purchased a loaf of bread with a few coins that he had.

Passage-II

I opened the bag and packed the boots in; and then, just as I was going to close it, a horrible idea occurred to me. Had I packed my toothbrush? I don't know how it is, but I never do know whether I've packed my toothbrush.

My toothbrush is a thing that haunts me when I'm travelling, and makes my life a misery. I dream that I haven't packed it, and wake up in a cold perspiration, and get out of bed and hunt for it. And, in the morning, I pack it before I have used it, and it is always the last thing I turn out of the bag; and then I repack and forget it, and have to rush upstairs for it at the last moment and carry it to the railway station, wrapped up in my pocket-handkerchief.

For fourteen and a half months I lived in my little cell or room in the Dehradun jail, and I began to feel as if I was almost a part of it. I was familiar with every bit of it, I knew every mark and dent on the whitewashed walls and on the uneven floor and the ceiling with its moth-eaten rafters. In the little yard outside I greeted little tufts of grass and odd bits of stone as old friends. I was not alone in my cell, for several colonies of wasp and hornets lived there, and many lizards found a home behind the rafters, emerging in the evenings in search of prey.

We started pitching the highest camp that has ever been made. Everything took five times as long as it would have taken in a place where there was enough air to breathe; but at last we got the tent up, and when we crawled in, it was not too bad. There was only a light wind, and inside it was not too cold for us to take off our gloves. At night most climbers take off their boots; but I prefer to keep them on. Hillary, on the other hand, took his off and laid them next to his sleeping bag.

A local man, staying on the top floor of an old wooden house, was awakened at midnight by a fire. Losing his way in a smoke-filled passage, he missed the stairway and went into another room. He picked up a bundle to protect his face from the fire and immediately fell through the floor below where he managed to escape through a clear doorway. The "bundle" proved to be the baby of the Mayer's wife. The "hero" was congratulated by all.

Seven-year-old Jim came home from the park without his new bicycle. “An old man and a little boy borrowed it,” he explained. “They are going to bring it back at four o’clock.” His parents were upset that he had given his expensive new bicycle, but were secretly proud of his kindness and faith. Came four o’clock, no bicycle. The parents were anxious. But at 4:30, the door bell rang, and there stood a happy man and a boy, with the bicycle and a box of chocolates. Jim suddenly disappeared into his bedroom, and then came running out. “All right,” he said, after examining the bicycle. “You can have your watch back !”

It was already late when we set out for the next town, which according to the map was about fifteen kilometres away on the other side of the hills. There we felt that we would find a bed for the night. Darkness fell soon after we left the village, but luckily we met no one as we drove swiftly along the narrow winding road that led to the hills. As we climbed higher, it became colder and rain began to fall, making it difficult at times to see the road. I asked John, my companion, to drive more slowly. After we had travelled for about twenty kilometres, there was still no sign of the town which was marked on the map. We were beginning to get worried. Then without warning, the car stopped and we found we had run out of petrol.

In front of us was walking a bare-headed old man in tattered clothes. He was driving his beasts. They were all laden with heavy loads of clay from the hills and looked tired. The man carried a long whip which perhaps he himself had made. As he walked down the road he stopped now and then to eat the wild berries that grew on bushes along the uneven road. When he threw away the seeds, the bold birds would fly to peck at them. Sometimes a stray dog watched the procession philosophically and then began to bark. When this happened, my two little sons would stand still holding my hands firmly. A dog can sometimes be dangerous indeed.

Cynthia was a shy girl. She believed that she was plain and untalented. One day her teacher ordered the entire class to show up for audition for the school play. Cynthia nearly died of fright when she was told that she would have to stand on stage in front of the entire class and deliver dialogues. The mere thought of it made her feel sick. But a remarkable transformation occurred during the audition. A thin, shy girl, her knees quaking, her stomach churning in terror, began to stun everyone with her excellent performance. Her bored classmates suddenly stopped their noisy chat to stare at her slender figure on the stage. At the end of her audition, the entire room erupted in thunderous applause.

There is more than a modicum of truth in the assertion that “a working knowledge of ancient history is necessary to the intelligent interpretation of current events”. But the sage who uttered these words of wisdom might well have added something on the benefits of studying particularly the famous battles of history for the lessons they contain for those of us who lead or aspire to leadership. Such a study will reveal certain qualities and attributes which enabled the winners to win—and certain deficiencies which caused the losers to lose. And the student will see that the same pattern recurs consistently, again and again, throughout the centuries.

Some people believe that leadership is a quality which you have at birth or not at all. This theory is false, for the art of leadership can be acquired and can indeed be taught. This discovery is made in time of war and the results achieved can surprise even the instructors. Faced with the alternatives of going left or right, every soldier soon grasps that a prompt decision either way is better than an endless discussion. A firm choice of direction has an even chance of being right while to do nothing will be almost certainly wrong.

Cattle from the nearby villages came to the common ground to graze, and there was still a cool freshness in the air. Hori took several deep breaths and thought of sitting down for a while, since he’d be dying of heat in the scorching ‘loo’ wind the rest of the day. A number of farmers were eager to lease this bit of land and had offered a good price, but Rai Sahib—God bless him—had plainly told them it was reserved for grazing and would not be relinquished for any price. If he’d been one of those selfish Zamindars, he’d have said the cattle could go to hell, that there was no reason for him to miss the chance to make a little money. But the Rai Sahib still held to the old values, feeling that any landlord who didn’t look after his tenants was less than human.