First Flight दीर्घ उत्तरीय प्रश्न (6 अंक): कल्पना और विस्तार वाले उत्तर कैसे लिखें — कक्षा 10 अंग्रेज़ी (RBSE 2026-27)

Tuesday, evening

What a strange day! My postman came in laughing with a letter addressed ‘To God’. I laughed too, until I read it. A farmer, ruined by hail, was asking God for a hundred pesos. I turned serious at once. ‘What faith!’ I thought. ‘I wish I had the faith of this man.’ I could not let that faith be shaken, so I decided to answer the letter. But goodwill, ink and paper were not enough. I asked my employees for money, gave part of my own salary, and asked a few friends to give something for charity. Even so, I could gather only a little more than half. I signed the letter with one word: God.

Both men show faith, but of different kinds. Lencho has faith in God. After the hailstorm he is sure that God will help, so he writes to God and asks for a hundred pesos. He shows no surprise at receiving the money, but he is angry to find only seventy pesos, because God cannot make a mistake. He simply blames the post-office employees. The postmaster, on the other hand, has faith in kindness and in the power of a good deed. He is moved by Lencho’s trust, and he works hard to collect the money so that this trust is not broken. In my view, Lencho’s faith is stronger in feeling, but the postmaster’s faith is stronger in action.

Pretoria, 10 May 1994

Dear Sipho,

You should have been here! Today I saw history in the sandstone amphitheatre of the Union Buildings, a place that was once the seat of white supremacy. Now it was full of people of every colour and leaders from many nations. Mr Mandela took the oath and promised that this beautiful land would never again know the oppression of one by another. Then jets and helicopters roared overhead, and generals who once would have arrested him saluted him. The two national anthems were sung, and each group sang the anthem it had once despised. My eyes filled with tears. I feel that a long night has ended.

Yours, Lerato

I agree with Mandela. He says that no one is born hating another person because of colour, background or religion. Hatred has to be learnt, and if people can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, because love comes more naturally to the human heart. In the grimmest times in prison, when he and his comrades were pushed to their limits, he saw a glimmer of humanity in one of the guards, and that was enough to keep him going. So he believes that man’s goodness is a flame that can be hidden but never extinguished. Young people can use this idea by refusing to judge classmates by religion, language or background, and by choosing friendship over prejudice.

Evening

Today I flew! This morning I was shaking on my ledge, looking at the sea far below. My brothers and sister had flown away, but I felt sure that my wings would never carry me. Father and Mother scolded me. Then Mother came across with a piece of fish and stopped in the air, just out of my reach. I was so hungry that I forgot my fear and dived at it. For a moment I screamed and fell, and my heart seemed to stand still. Then my wings spread out, the wind rushed against me, and I was flying! I was no longer afraid. My family praised me and gave me scraps of fish.

I think the mother’s method was clever, though a little hard. Words alone did not help. His parents scolded him and threatened to let him starve, but his fear kept him on the ledge. When his mother flew across with a piece of fish and stopped just out of his reach, hunger became stronger than fear, so he dived and found that his wings could carry him. The experience proved to him that he could fly. A gentler way, such as flying close to him and calling him step by step, might have reduced his terror. Like a baby learning to walk, a young bird needs both a push and patience. In this story, the push worked.

Dear family,

I am safe. Let me tell you about the strangest night of my life. I was flying my old Dakota over France when storm clouds blocked the sky. There was not enough fuel to go around them, so I flew straight in. Inside, everything went black, and my compass and radio stopped working. Then a black aeroplane appeared beside me with no lights on its wings. Its pilot waved, as if to say, ‘Follow me.’ I followed like an obedient child. After half an hour he led me to a runway and vanished. The woman at the control centre said that no other aeroplane had flown that night. Who was he? I do not know.

With love

The story gives no answer, so I can only give my own view. I think the black aeroplane was a kind of guardian, perhaps the spirit of a pilot who had once been lost in a storm. The narrator’s compass and radio were dead and his fuel was nearly finished, yet a plane with no lights appeared beside him in the black clouds. Its pilot waved and led him to the runway, and then the plane vanished. The woman at the control centre said that her radar had shown only his aeroplane. Another explanation is that a tired, frightened pilot imagined it. But the safe landing feels too real for a dream, so I prefer the first idea.

Friday evening

Today I lost and won at the same time. For weeks Anne Frank has talked through my maths lessons. I gave her an essay called ‘A Chatterbox’. She replied with a clever argument: talking is a student’s trait, and she had inherited the habit from her mother! Then came ‘An Incorrigible Chatterbox’. At the third lesson I had had enough, so I set her ‘Quack, Quack, Quack, Said Mistress Chatterbox’. Instead she handed in a poem, written with her friend Sanne, about a mother duck and a father swan with three ducklings. I could not stop laughing. I read it to the class and shall read it to other classes too. She has beaten me with her wit.

Anne had loving parents, a sister and about thirty friends, yet she felt that she had no true friend. With her friends she thought only of having a good time and could talk only about ordinary things. She longed for someone to whom she could confide her deepest thoughts. Since paper has more patience than people, she decided to make her diary her friend and called it Kitty. From this we learn that true friendship is not a matter of numbers or company. It rests on trust and understanding. A true friend listens patiently and keeps our secrets, and we should try to be such a friend to others.

Madikeri, Coorg

Dear Rohan,

I am having a wonderful time in Coorg, the smallest district of Karnataka, midway between Mysore and Mangalore. The best season is from September to March, so please come then. The hills are covered with evergreen rainforests, and the air smells of coffee from the estates. You can try river rafting and canoeing, or rappelling and rock climbing, or simply walk along the trails. A climb to the Brahmagiri hills gives a panoramic view of the misty land, and a rope bridge leads to the island of Nisargadhama. The Coorgi people are also very hospitable. I am sure you will love it.

Yours, Arjun

The three sections show that India is a land of many ways of life. In Goa, the pader’s morning visit and the bread served at weddings, engagements and Christmas show how bread is part of every celebration. Coorg shows a different India of hills, rainforests and coffee, with a proud martial community that has its own customs, dress and hospitality, and with rafting and trekking for visitors. In Assam, tea bushes spread as far as the eye can see, and the tea-pluckers with baskets show how one crop shapes the work and landscape of a region. Food, dress, work and scenery differ, yet each place has an identity of its own. Together they give one rich picture of India.

I am Mij, an otter from the marshes of Iraq, and today I flew in a flying machine! My master put me into a small box, and I hated it. I tore at its lining until I was tired, and when he saw me he was shocked. He put me back and held down the lid. Then came a noisy ride, and then the aeroplane. At my first chance I jumped out and dashed down the cabin. Somebody screamed, ‘A rat!’ My master dived after my tail, missed it and landed with his face in someone’s curry. At last I heard his voice, ran to his knee and nuzzled his face. I was safe.

Maxwell’s story shows both joy and difficulty. Mij gave him great pleasure: he played with marbles and a ball, and he even turned on the bath tap with his paws. But the journey was hard on the animal. Mij was so frightened in the box that he tore its lining and was spattered with blood, and he caused panic in the aeroplane. The pet-care box in the lesson says that owning a pet is a lifetime of commitment and needs proper care, exercise, affection and play. An otter also needs a great deal of water. So I think wild animals are better left in their own homes, unless the owner can give them all that they need.

Night

At last I rode the bus! For months I had watched it from my doorway. Today, while Mother was napping, I slipped out with the sixty paise I had saved. The conductor called me ‘madam’, and I told him I was no child, because I had paid my thirty paise like everyone else. I saw green fields, a canal, a train and the big, bright shops of the town. I laughed when a young cow ran in front of our bus. But on the way back I saw the same cow lying dead by the roadside. It looked so horrible. I could not stop thinking about it, and I did not want to look out of the window again.

Valli begins as a curious child who wants to see the world, and her journey fulfils that wish. She plans it all by herself: she saves sixty paise, slips out while her mother sleeps, pays her own fare and faces the conductor’s teasing without fear. She also learns that life has two faces. The same young cow that made her laugh is later seen lying dead, and her happy day is touched by sadness. When her mother says that there are many things we do not know or understand completely, Valli breathes ‘Oh, yes!’ and smiles to herself. She has understood something that the elders do not guess. In one afternoon she grows up a little.

Night, by the roadside

Tonight my grief has changed. This morning I carried my dead son from door to door and begged for medicine. A kind man sent me to the Buddha, who asked for a handful of mustard seed from a house where no one had lost a child, husband, parent or friend. I went joyfully from house to house, but every family had lost someone. They said that the living are few and the dead are many, and begged me not to remind them of their grief. Tired, I sat down and watched the city lights flicker and die. I understood that death is common to all, and I saw how selfish I had been in my sorrow.

The Buddha knew that a mother mad with grief would not accept a plain statement that death comes to all. If he had refused her request, she might have kept searching or ignored his words. So he gave her a task that sounded hopeful: bring a handful of mustard seed from a house untouched by death. As she went from door to door, she found for herself that every family had lost someone. Her sorrow turned into understanding, and she then accepted the truth. His method teaches us that a grieving person needs patience and gentle guidance. A truth discovered through one’s own experience is understood more deeply than advice given in words.

Natalya: Good morning, Ivan Vassilevitch. Did you sleep well?

Lomov: Not at all! My heart jumped all night, and my foot is still asleep.

Natalya: That is what comes of shouting so much yesterday. And about the Oxen Meadows!

Lomov: Let us forget the Meadows, my dear.

Natalya: Gladly. They are ours, after all.

Lomov: Excuse me, they are mine!

Natalya: Mine! I shall never give them up!

Natalya: And Squeezer is a hundred times better than your Guess.

Lomov: Guess is better, I tell you!

Lomov: [clutching his heart] Palpitations! Water!

Chubukov: [entering] Again! What a beginning for a family! Champagne, quick, champagne!

I think their married life will be full of noise rather than peace. Both are proud and stubborn. Within minutes of meeting, they quarrel over the Oxen Meadows, and then over their dogs, Guess and Squeezer, and neither is ready to give way. Lomov is nervous and complains about his palpitations, while Natalya has a sharp tongue, and Chubukov joins their quarrels instead of ending them. Even at the moment of the engagement, when they have agreed to marry, they begin to argue about the dogs again, and Chubukov has to shout for champagne to stop them. They may care for each other, but unless they learn to control their tempers, the quarrels will go on.

Mandela says that he learnt the meaning of courage from his comrades. Again and again he saw men and women risk their lives for an idea, and he saw others face attack and torture without breaking. They were not men without fear; they were men who conquered it. The young seagull shows the same truth on a small scale. He is terrified of the sea far below and feels sure that his wings will fail him. Yet, when hunger drives him, he dives into the open space, and a moment of terror ends when his wings spread. In both lessons, courage is not a lack of fear. It is the act of moving forward in spite of fear.

Both Lencho and Kisa Gotami turn to a higher source after a disaster. Lencho’s corn is destroyed by hail, and he writes to God for a hundred pesos. Kisa Gotami’s only son dies, and she goes to the Buddha for medicine. Each hopes for a miracle. Their experiences differ. Lencho’s faith is never shaken: even when seventy pesos arrive, he blames the post office employees, not God. Kisa Gotami, on the other hand, is led by the Buddha’s task to see for herself that death comes to every house, and she changes. Lencho’s story shows firm faith; Kisa Gotami’s shows a hope that grows into understanding.

Valli and Kisa Gotami learn from what they see for themselves. Valli sets out to enjoy a bus ride and sees green fields, bright shops and a young cow that makes her laugh. On the return journey she sees the same cow lying dead by the roadside. She learns that joy and sorrow come together in life, and that there is much that even grown-ups cannot fully understand. Kisa Gotami goes from house to house to find mustard seed from a home where no one has died. She finds none and learns that death is common to all. Both lessons show that experience can teach what advice cannot.

Anne Frank has a loving family and about thirty friends, yet she has no one in whom she can confide. She finds her companion in her diary and calls it Kitty, because paper has more patience than people. Gavin Maxwell’s need is different. After his dog Jonnie dies, life without a pet is lonely, and he decides to keep an otter. In Mij he finds a lively friend who plays with balls and marbles and follows him without a lead. Anne’s companion is a silent page that listens to her thoughts. Maxwell’s companion is a living animal that shares his days. Both show how deeply human beings need someone to share life with.

Both lessons make us smile, but in different ways. In Anne Frank’s diary the humour comes from a clever girl and her teacher. Mr Keesing gives her essays on chatterboxes as punishment, and Anne answers the first essay with a witty argument and the last with a poem about a mother duck and a father swan with noisy ducklings. The teacher laughs and takes the joke the right way. In The Proposal, humour comes from foolish people who quarrel over small things. Lomov came to propose, but he quarrels with Natalya about the Oxen Meadows and about their dogs, and he even faints. Anne’s humour is gentle and ends in friendship; Chekhov’s humour makes fun of human pride and temper.

Both helpers act when someone is in trouble. The postmaster helps a poor farmer. He laughs at first, but he is moved by Lencho’s faith, and he asks his employees and friends for money and gives part of his own salary. His help is planned, and it is given openly through a letter signed ‘God’. The pilot of the black aeroplane helps a lost pilot whose compass and radio are dead and whose fuel is nearly finished. He appears out of the storm without lights, waves to him to follow, and leads him to a runway. Then he vanishes, and nobody knows who he was. The postmaster is a known, human helper; the black pilot is a mysterious one.