Read the following passage and answer the question that follows. \textit{Passage:} The lovely thing about the unsayable is that it is unsaid. As soon as it is said, it is sayable and loses all its mystery and ambiguity. Art exists so that the unsayable can be said without having to actually say it. We cloud it in secrecy and obfuscation. The mind is free to roam and all things can be imagined, under the cover of darkness. How nice that is. The unsayable. How tired we are of having things explained to us. Having things said. How nice it is when people just shut ... up. Which of the following options can be BEST inferred from the passage?

You may laugh at a hat, but what you are making fun of, in this case, is not the piece of felt or straw, but the shape that men have given it, -- the human caprice whose mould it has assumed. It is strange that so important a fact, and such a simple one too, has not attracted to a greater degree the attention of philosophers. Several have de ned man as "an animal which laughs." They might equally well have de ned him as an animal which is laughed at; for if any other animal, or some lifeless object, produces the same effect, it is always because of some resemblance to man, of the stamp he gives it or the use he puts it to.
Here I would point out, as a symptom equally worthy of notice, the ABSENCE OF FEELING which usually accompanies laughter. It seems as though the comic could not produce its disturbing effect unless it fell, so to say, on the surface of a soul that is thoroughly calm and unru ed. Indifference is its natural environment, for laughter has no greater foe than emotion. I do not mean that we could not laugh at a person who inspires us with pity, for instance, or evenwith affection, but in such a case we must, for the moment, put our affection out of court and impose silence upon our pity. In a society composed of pure intelligences there would probably be no more tears, though perhaps there would still be laughter; whereas highly emotional souls, in tune and unison with life, in whom every event would be sentimentally prolonged and re-echoed, would neither know nor understand laughter. Try, for a moment, to become interested in everything that is being said and done; act, in imagination, with those who act, and feel with those who feel; in a word, give your sympathy its widest expansion: as though at the touch of a fairy wand you will see the imsiest of objects assume importance, and a gloomy hue spread over everything. Now step aside, look upon life as a disinterested spectator: many a drama will turn into a comedy. It is enough for us to stop our ears to the sound of music, in a room where dancing is going on, for the dancers at once to appear ridiculous. How many human actions would stand a similar test? Should we not see many of them suddenly pass from grave to gay, on isolating them from the accompanying music of sentiment? To produce the whole of its effect, then, the comic demands something like a momentary anesthesia of the heart. Its appeal is to intelligence, pure and simple

Work, for many on the career track, is greedy. The individual who puts in overtime, weekend time, or evening time will earn a lot more—so much more that, even on an hourly basis, the person is earning more.…The greediness of work means that couples with children or other care responsibilities would gain by doing a bit of specialization. This specialization doesn’t mean catapulting back to the world of Leave It to Beaver. Women will still pursue demanding careers. But one member of the couple will be on call at home, ready to leave the o ce or workplace at a moment’s notice. That person will have a position with considerable exibility and will ordinarily not be expected to answer an e-mail or a call at ten p.m. That parent will not have to cancel an appearance at soccer practice for an M \& A. The other parent, however, will be on call at work and do just the opposite. The potential impact on promotion, advancement, and earnings is obvious. The work of professionals and managers has always been greedy. Lawyers have always burned the midnight oil. Academics have always been judged for their cerebral output and are expected not to turn their brains off in the evenings. Most doctors and veterinarians were once on call 24/7. The value of greedy jobs has greatly increased with rising income inequality, which has soared since the early 1980s. Earnings at the very upper end of the income distribution have ballooned. The worker who jumps the highest gets an ever-bigger reward. The jobs with the greatest demands for long hours and the least exibility have paid disproportionately more, while earnings in other employments have stagnated. Thus, positions that have been more di cult for women to enter in the rst place, such as those in nance, are precisely the ones that have seen the greatest increases in income in the last several decades. The private equity associate who sees the deal through from beginning to end, who did the di cult modeling, and who went to every meeting and late-night dinner, will have maximum chance for a big bonus and the sought-after promotion. Rising inequality in earnings may be one important reason why the gender pay gap among college graduates has remained at in the last several decades, despite improvements in women’s credentials and positions. It may be the reason why the gender earnings gap for college graduates became larger than that between men and women in the entire population in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Women have been swimming upstream, holding their own but going against a strong current of endemic income inequality. Greedy work also means that couple equity has been, and will continue to be, jettisoned for increased family income. And when couple equity is thrown out the window, gender equality generally goes with it, except among same-sex unions. Gender norms that we have inherited get reinforced in a host of ways to allot more of the childcare responsibility to mothers, and more of the family care to grown daughters. 68. Which of the following statements CANNOT be inferred from the passage?

This uidity and situational dependence is uniquely human. In other species, in-group/outgroup distinctions re ect degrees of biological relatedness, or what evolutionary biologists call “kin selection.” Rodents distinguish between a sibling, a cousin, and a stranger by smell—xed, genetically determined pheromonal signatures—and adapt their cooperation accordingly. Those murderous groups of chimps are largely made up of brothers or cousins who grew up together and predominantly harm outsiders. Humans are plenty capable of kin-selective violence themselves, yet human group mentality is often utterly independent of such instinctual familial bonds. Most modern human societies rely instead on cultural kin selection, a process allowing people to feel closely related to what are, in a biological sense, total strangers. Often, this requires a highly active process of inculcation, with its attendant rituals and vocabularies. Consider military drills producing “bands of brothers,” unrelated college freshmen becoming sorority “sisters,” or the bygone value of welcoming immigrants into “the American family.” This malleable, rather than genetically xed, path of identity formation also drives people to adopt arbitrary markers that enable them to spot their cultural kin in an ocean of strangers—hence the importance various communities attach to ags, dress, or facial hair. The hipster beard, the turban, and the “Make America Great Again” hat all fulfill this role by sending strong signals of tribal belonging. Moreover, these cultural communities are arbitrary when compared to the relatively axed logic of biological kin selection. Few things show this arbitrariness better than the experience of immigrant families, where the randomness of a visa lottery can radically reshu e a child’s education, career opportunities, and cultural predilections. Had my grandparents and father missed the train out of Moscow that they instead barely made, maybe I’d be a chain smoking Russian academic rather than a Birkenstock-wearing American one, moved to tears by the heroism during the Battle of Stalingrad rather than that at Pearl Harbor. Scaled up from the level of individual family histories, our big-picture group identities—the national identities and cultural principles that structure our lives— are just as arbitrary and subject to the vagaries of history.

Recently, a team of social scientists launched an experiment to test that hypothesis. They recruited 1,500 entrepreneurs in West Africa—a mix of women and men in their 30s, 40s, and 50s—who were running small startups in manufacturing, service, and commerce. They randomly assigned the founders to one of three groups. One was a control group: they went about their business as usual. The other two were training groups: they spent a week learning new concepts, analyzing them in case studies of other entrepreneurs, and applying them to their own startups through role-play and re section exercises. What differed was whether the training focused on cognitive skills or character skills. In cognitive skills training, the founders took an accredited business course created by the International Finance Corporation. They studied nance, accounting, HR, marketing, and pricing, and practiced using what they learned to solve challenges and seize opportunities. In character skills training, the founders attended a class designed by psychologists to teach personal initiative. They studied proactivity, discipline, and determination, and practiced putting those qualities into action. Character skills training had a dramatic impact. After founders had spent merely ve days working on these skills, their rms’ pro ts grew by an average of 30 percent over the next two years. That was nearly triple the bene t of training in cognitive skills. Finance and marketing knowledge might have equipped founders to capitalize on opportunities, but studying proactivity and discipline enabled them to generate opportunities. They learned to anticipate market changes rather than react to them. They developed more creative ideas and introduced more new products. When they encountered nancial obstacles, instead of giving up, they were more resilient and resourceful in seeking loans. Along with demonstrating that character skills can propel us to achieve greater things, this evidence reveals that it’s never too late to build them … Character doesn’t set like plaster—it retains its plasticity. Character is often confused with personality, but they’re not the same. Personality is your predisposition—your basic instincts for how to think, feel, and act. Character is your capacity to prioritize your values over your instincts. Knowing your principles doesn’t necessarily mean you know how to practice them, particularly under stress or pressure. It’s easy to be proactive and determined when things are going well. The true test of character is whether you manage to stand by those values when the deck is stacked against you. If personality is how you respond on a typical day, character is how you show up on a hard day. Personality is not your destiny—it’s your tendency. Character skills enable you to transcend that tendency to be true to your principles. It’s not about the traits you have—it’s what you decide to do with them. Wherever you are today, there’s no reason why you can’t grow your character skills starting now.

Look how you turned on
the ceiling fan—it’s too high,
see how it shakes and trembles.
You walk into this room
with your hot ideas
and the ceiling fan has to work harder
to cool down the room
for us. You walk into this room
with your crazy eyes
and the ceiling fan
wants to y loose. It dreams
of becoming a spider lily.

No one argues that the rich should be rich because they were born to wealthy parents. Critics of inequality may complain that those who would abolish inheritance taxes, say, are implicitly endorsing hereditary privilege. But no one defends hereditary privilege outright or disputes the principle that careers should be open to talents.
Most of our debates about access to jobs, education, and public o ce proceed from the premise of equal opportunity. Our disagreements are less about the principle itself than about what it requires. For example, critics of a rmative action in hiring and college admissions argue that such policies are inconsistent with equality of opportunity, because they judge applicants on factors other than merit. Defenders of a rmative action reply that such policies are necessary to make equality of opportunity a reality for members of groups that have suffered discrimination or disadvantage.
At the level of principle at least, and political rhetoric, meritocracy has won the day. In democracies throughout the world, politicians of the center-left and center-right claim that their policies are the ones that will enable all citizens, whatever their race or ethnicity, gender or class, to compete on equal terms and to rise as far as their efforts and talents will take them. When people complain about meritocracy, the complaint is usually not about the ideal but about our failure to live up to it: The wealthy and powerful have rigged the system to perpetuate their privilege; the professional classes have gured out how to pass their advantages on to their children, converting the meritocracy into a hereditary aristocracy; colleges that claim to select students on merit give an edge to the sons and daughters of the wealthy and the well-connected. According to this complaint, meritocracy is a myth, a distant promise yet to be redeemed.

Read the following passage and answer the THREE questions that follow.
If we imagine the action of a vaccine not just in terms of how it affects a single body, but also in terms of how it affects the collective body of a community, it is fair to think of vaccination as a kind of banking of immunity. Contributions to this bank are donations to those who cannot or will not be protected by their own immunity. This is the principle of herd immunity, and it is through herd immunity that mass vaccination becomes far more effective than individual vaccination.
Any given vaccine can fail to produce immunity in an individual, and some vaccines, like the influenza vaccine, are less effective than others. But when enough people are vaccinated with even a relatively ineffective vaccine, viruses have trouble moving from host to host and cease to spread, sparing both the unvaccinated and those in whom vaccination has not produced immunity. This is why the chances of contracting measles can be higher for a vaccinated person living in a largely unvaccinated community than they are for an unvaccinated person living in a largely vaccinated community.
The unvaccinated person is protected by the bodies around her, bodies through which disease is not circulating. But a vaccinated person surrounded by bodies that host disease is left vulnerable to vaccine failure or fading immunity. We are protected not so much by our own skin, but by what is beyond it. The boundaries between our bodies begin to dissolve here. Donations of blood and organs move between us, exiting one body and entering another, and so too with immunity, which is a common trust as much as it is a private account. Those of us who draw on collective immunity owe our health to our neighbors.

Read the following passage and answer the THREE questions that follow.
Because it’s so easy to judge the idiocy of others, it may be sorely tempting to think this doesn’t apply to you. But the problem of unrecognized ignorance is one that visits us all. And over the years, I’ve become convinced of one key, overarching fact about the ignorant mind. One should not think of it as uninformed. Rather, one should think of it as misinformed.
An ignorant mind is precisely not a spotless, empty vessel, but one that’s filled with the clutter of irrelevant or misleading life experiences, theories, facts, intuitions, strategies, algorithms, heuristics, metaphors, and hunches that regrettably have the look and feel of useful and accurate knowledge. This clutter is an unfortunate by-product of one of our greatest strengths as a species. We are unbridled pattern recognizers and profligate theorizers. Often, our theories are good enough to get us through the day, or at least to an age when we can procreate. But our genius for creative storytelling, combined with our inability to detect our own ignorance, can sometimes lead to situations that are embarrassing, unfortunate, or downright dangerous—especially in a technologically advanced, complex democratic society that occasionally invests mistaken popular beliefs with immense destructive power. As the humorist Josh Billings once put it, “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” (Ironically, one thing many people “know” about this quote is that it was first uttered by Mark Twain or Will Rogers—which just ain’t so.) Because of the way we are built, and because of the way we learn from our environment, we are all engines of misbelief. And the better we understand how our wonderful yet kludge-ridden, Rube Goldberg engine works, the better we—as individuals and as a society—can harness it to navigate toward a more objective understanding of the truth.

Read the following passage and answer the THREE questions that follow.
What I call fast political thinking is driven by simplified moral frames. These moral frames give us the sense that those who agree with us have the right answer, while those who disagree are unreasonable, or worse.
Each moral frame sets up an axis of favorable and unfavorable. Progressives use the oppressoroppressed axis. Progressives view most favorably those groups that can be regarded as oppressed or standing with the oppressed, and they view most unfavorably those groups that can be regarded as oppressors. Conservatives use the civilization-barbarism axis. Conservatives view most favorably the institutions that they believe constrain and guide people toward civilized behavior, and they view most unfavorably those people who they see as trying to tear down such institutions. Libertarians use the liberty-coercion axis. Libertarians view most favorably those people who defer to decisions that are made on the basis of personal choice and voluntary agreement, and they view most unfavorably those people who favor government interventions that restrict personal choice.
If you have a dominant axis, I suggest that you try to learn the languages spoken by those who use the other axes. Don’t worry—learning other languages won’t make it easy for others to convert you to their point of view. By the same token, it will not make it easy to convert others to your point of view. However, you may become aware of assumptions your side makes that others might legitimately question.
What learning the other languages can do is enable you to understand how others think about political issues. Instead of resorting to the theory that people with other views are crazy or stupid or evil, you may concede that they have a coherent point of view. In fact, their point of view could be just as coherent as yours. The problem is that those people apply their point of view in circumstances where you are fairly sure that it is not really appropriate. Consider that there may be situations in which one frame describes the problem much better than the others. For example, I believe that the civil rights movement in the United States is best described using the progressive heuristic of the oppressed and the oppressor. In the 1950s and the early 1960s, the people who had the right model were the people who were fighting for black Americans to have true voting rights, equal access to housing, and an end to the Jim Crow laws. The civilization-barbarism axis and the liberty-coercion axis did not provide the best insight into the issue….

Read the following passage and answer the TWO questions that follow.
Beauty has an aesthetic, but it is not the same as aesthetics, not when it can be embodied, controlled by powerful interests, and when it can be commodified. Beauty can be manners, also a socially contingent set of traits. Whatever power decides that beauty is, it must always be more than reducible to a single thing. Beauty is a wonderful form of capital in a world that organizes everything around gender and then requires a performance of gender that makes some of its members more equal than others.
Beauty would not be such a useful distinction were it not for the economic and political conditions. It is trite at this point to point out capitalism, which is precisely why it must be pointed out. Systems of exchange tend to generate the kind of ideas that work well as exchanges. Because it can be an idea and a good and a body, beauty serves many useful functions for our economic system. Even better, beauty can be political. It can exclude and include, one of the basic conditions of any politics. Beauty has it all. It can be political, economic, external, individualized, generalizing, exclusionary, and perhaps best of all a story that can be told. Our dominant story of beauty is that it is simultaneously a blessing, of genetics or gods, and a site of conversion. You can become beautiful if you accept the right prophets and their wisdoms with a side of products thrown in for good measure. Forget that these two ideas—unique blessing and earned reward—are antithetical to each other. That makes beauty all the more perfect for our (social and political) time, itself anchored in paradoxes like freedom and property, opportunity and equality

Read the following passage and answer the TWO questions that follow.
But as the behavioral economists like to remind us, we are already prone to all sorts of reductions as a species. It’s not just the scientists. We compress complex reality down into abbreviated heuristics that often work beautifully in everyday life for high-frequency, low-significance decisions. Because we are an unusually clever and self-reflective species, we long ago realized that we needed help overcoming those reductive instincts when it really matters. And so we invented a tool called storytelling. At first, some of our stories were even more reductive than the sciences would prove to be: allegories and parables and morality plays that compressed the flux of real life down to archetypal moral messages. But over time the stories grew more adept at describing the true complexity of lived experience, the whorls and the threadlike pressures. One of the crowning achievements of that growth is the realist novel. That, of course, is the latent implication of Prince Andrei’s question: “innumerable conditions made meaningful only in unpredictable moments” would fare well as a description of both War and Peace and Middlemarch, arguably the two totemic works in the realist canon. What gives the novel the grain of truth lies precisely in the way it doesn’t quite run along the expected grooves, the way it dramatizes all the forces and unpredictable variables that shape the choices humans confront at the most meaningful moments of their lives.
When we read those novels—or similarly rich biographies of historical figures—we are not just entertaining ourselves; we are also rehearsing for our own real-world experiences….

The view was magical. Sitting by the window, aboard EK S42, the scene below seemedsurreal. It was if the entire constellation of stars had descended down in flashy, shimmering grab, on their special night out. They were at their twinkling best, refusing to let the city sleep. But, why would anyone want to do that anyway?
After all, it was the season of the Dubai Shopping Festival...
With an inexplicable excitement surging within me, I could tell that this was what I had anticipated when I decided to treat myself to a vacation, away from the mundane chores of everyday life.
With a pulse rate that matched the diabolic speed of the aircraft, I turned away from the brilliance below only when we slid to a graceful halt. With anxious thoughts of what the Immigration and Customs formalities involved, I quickly collected my hand baggage from the overhead locker, and saw myself out of the aircraft. "Fly, Buy, Dubai", informed a banner, as I covered what seemed like miles and miles of distance. Did me good, in a way, slackened my stiff bones and cramped nerves.
I had heard about Dubai's unique formula of treating its visitors right, but was least prepared for all the fuss and attention, and the kind, enquiring glances. Why were they being so nice to me? Was it writ all over my face that I was first time visitor to their city, with my nerves in top gear? Did I look lost, in need of assistance? Pulling myself together, I returned the smile that told them that I really could manage, thank you! I followed the overhead signs, and sailed through the "Visit Visa" counter, up over the escalator, and into the customs and Immigration queue. Using the waiting time to look around, my heart did a little jig, yet again. Was this really the Airport Immigration hall or had I walked into a ship, and happening party room? There were colourful streamers, buntings, and banners everywhere. "Dubai Shopping Festival - One World, one Family, One Festival", they said. There was music floating in the air, happy faces all around, and festoons flying in gay abandon.
"This way, ma'am," said a deeply accented voice, close to me. Finally, it was judgment time. What if something was amiss with my papers? Would I be allowed entry or told to turn around? While the lady scrutinised the documents, I stole a glance at her. Elegantly turned out, I noticed her adjusting the black headscarf ever so often. She was not the fierce looking officer that I had imagined a few moments ago. And, she asked none of those awful questions that I had imagined. "Welcome to Dubai," she smiled. Phew... that was easy!
A few moments later, there I was skimming along the streets of Dubai with four whole days of pure exhilaration ahead of me...
Day 1
Deciding that I needed to get a feel of the place, I convinced my friends that I could take good care of myself. Equipped with a road map, ample local currency, and a good measure of adrenaline, I boarded the local bus to reach the Creek crossing. The simple wooden boat, the abra, was packed with people wanting to go to the other side of the city, the Diera side. The 10-minute trip, costing less than U.S. 20 cents, gave me a great feel of Dubai's coastline and skyline. My boatman, with whom I had struck a wonderfulrapport by then, pointed out to the wooden dhows that were commonly used for trade. "Can carry 250 tons of cargo," he said, adding, "A dhow takes months to build, and can last for over a century!"
My next stop was the Bastakiya area, an old heritage site from the early 1900s. The wind towers, of which I had heard so much about, caught my attention. These rectangular structures sit on top of traditional flat roofed buildings, catching the slightest breeze and grueling the wind down into the structure. The earliest form of air-conditioning, I told myself.A call home to say all was well with the wanderlust woman, and a good hour of siesta fortified me for the evening ahead and this time my friends made sure that they came along. None of them, however, prepared me for what was in store. Come evening, the whole city wore the look of a spectacular fairyland, with a million bulbs illuminating the streets and shopping areas. Streets were jammed with cars, malls were crowded with shoppers, and the wayside cafes were filled with people experimenting various cuisines. Was this the same city that was historically known to be inundated with sand dunes? Was this that part of the world that sceptics once said was unsafe for women, and lone travellers? I had never felt more secure, more pampered.
My first evening in Dubai was spend trying to figure out its reputation of being "the shopping capital of the Middle East". Our first stop was the famous gold souk, a must see for every first time visitor. The display of gold satiated my thirst of a lifetime, the incredible offers, and the variety of designs, in bright, and while gold, in muted and coppery gold. After all, could any woman resist the lure of gold, however old?
The nearby spice souk, and antique bazaar, with its bustling ambience and overpowering aroma, beckoned us from around the corner. Leaving the scents and traditional sights behind us, we drove on to imbibe the tax-free shopping experience at some of the well-known malls. Jewellery, high fashion, electronics, carpets, handicrafts, books, sporting equipment, you name your choice, and it was there all under one roof. Amazing selections, at unbelievable prices.
But this was, for real, and the Dubai Shopping Festival had made it all come true.
Day 2
Friday, the weekend holiday, was a day for togetherness. So, we headed towards the beach, for a morning of sunshine and sea spray. "Did you know that Dubai is one of the biggest adventure capitals in the world? "Oh really, prove it to me, I challenged.
I shouldn't have, because at the end of the morning, my limbs were beaten, and worn. But, I would do it all over again, if I had to.
I could hardly believe myself that i was actually going snorkelling, albeit with a guide. The children screamed with pleasure as they encountered sea creatures while floating over coral reefs. The spectacular UAE waters with breathtaking scenery offered an amazing avenue for water sports. Parasailing, diving, or just gliding over the ocean all add up to ensure an exhilarating experience.
Soaked to the skin with sunshine and moisture, our appetites lead us into an authenticLebanese restaurant, Replete with hummous (ground chickpeas), muttabel (mashed aubergines), fattayer (hot bread stuffed with mild cheese, onions, and spinach), and zater (bread sprinkled with aromatic herbs), the mixed fruit cocktail added the right punch to our afternoon.
The lush, green parks invited us to take a stroll on the evening of day 2. The fare offered by Mumzar Park, Al Safa Park, and the Creek Park provided the children with hours of endless pleasure. With cartoon characters coming alive, toy trains weaving around the greenery and crocodiles and dolphins vying with each other for attention, the entire gamut of entertainment had the children craving for more. Luring our brat pack away. with ice-lollies and candyfloss, we parked ourselves on al Diyafah Street. While the men savoured aromatic strawberry and apple flavours out of their "shisha" pipes, we were content watching the others participating in this huge shipping marvel.

Day 3
A long, deep groan shook me out of my deep slumber. Was someone in pain? As I tried jumping out of my bed, I heard myself emit a similar sound: was I in pain too? A little into the morning saw all of us grimacing over our stiff bodies - the outcome of the previous day's water pursuits! A hot, tingling shower, and a hearty breakfast got us in shape again as we embarked on another shopping expedition. No guilt feelings here, not with such stupendous discounts, prizes, and give-aways! With attractions like Lexus cars, kilos of gold, and airline tickets being dangled before every dirham that was spent, I needed little goading to splurge. And, before I knew it, I was the proud possessor of a zillion raffle coupons! Enticing the children to fill them up for me. I decided to chill out with an iced lemonade.
By now, the local spirit had inspired me enough to don a baya, and a headscarf. Looking. every inch an Arab woman, I decided to step into the act completely. And the stage where I decided to play the part was at the Heritage and Diving Village. With a generous dose of "Salaam Vlaikum", and "Shukran", I became one of the many local women, imbibing their customs. Photographs edifying the country's past, showcases of Arabian horses, falconry, and vintage cars had me rooted to the venue.
And, just as my friends and I were about to leave for the Global village, there was a sudden deluge of brilliant colours, and all faces turned upwards to witness a spectacular fireworks display.
The Global Village. There was a surprise at every corner. Over 30 countries had their presence there, and within a few hours, I had travelled between Thailand, China, Sri Lanka, Egypt, and Morocco. While Pakistan beckoned us with its antique wooden chests, Turkey had me mesmerised with its flying dervishes. While my senses succumbed to the Indian fire-eaters, I raced to watch the rickshaws and road shows
The icing on the cake was the awe-inspiring "Aqua Fantasia" at the nearby Creek Park. There aren't enough words to describe the brilliant display of light and water, responding to the many moods of music. With the cool night air wafting through us, we witnessed the versatility of technological innovation in silent joy.
Come midnight, I stepped out of my Arabic role, and felt like Cinderella after the Ball.
Day 4
With a cup of warm suleimani (black tea), I sat overlooking the green lawns. Reflecting on the last few hours in Dubai, I felt that I couldn't have asked for a better getaway, with limitless avenues for leisure and pleasure. I spotted two tickets lying on the coffee table... the "Dubai World Cup", they said. Wasn't that the world's richest horse race held at Nad Al Sheba? Of course, I wouldn't be around to bet on a favourite filly, neither would I be able to watch the 'stars' come down during the Dubai Tennis Open, or catch Tiger Woods in action at the Dubai Desert Classic. Sigh! You can't possibly have it all. Indecisive as to where to head for lunch, we decided on a fusion restaurant to cater to everyone's tastes. We settled for combinations of Cajun, Japanese, and Tai flavoured dishes, blended with Mediterranean selections. The cuisine melded perfectly with our mood.
My last evening in dear Dubai ... Refusing to be bogged down by thoughts of leaving this fantasyland, I joined the gang on a desert safari. The drive over the bumpy, undulating terrain sparked a hysterical spasm in me, and I just couldn't stop giggling. I felt a sense of freedom I had never experienced before. Vistas of open land, glistening mirages far ahead, the sky and the sand did a panoramic dance. Sitting atop the gaudily dressed camel took me to the top of the world, I was the master of all I surveyed! The warmth from the barbecue coals enveloped the cold night, the swaying, slender belly dancer fired everyone's heart. I refused to part with the night.
As the next day dawned, it was time to check in not just a hoard of goodies, but a baggage full of happiness, and unchecked emotion. Promising to meet at the same time, same place next year, I walked towards the Customs counter.
"Dubai, the city that cares" assured a banner. I knew how true that was
"Hey, got to get the Millennium Millionaire raffle coupon," squealed a voice somewhere. I followed, headlong... the fun is never over, is it?
P.S: If you're tempted to go the way I did, just log on to www.mydsf.com, and find out all there is to know about the biggest, brightest, and longest festival this side of the globe.

By A MOTHER'S STANDARDS, ANDREA De Cruz didn't need to lose weight. But show business imposes strict requirements on appearance, and when the dial on the Singaporean TV actress's bathroom scales spun to more than 48 kilos, de Cruz started taking a Chinese diet pill named Slim 10 that she purchased from a colleague. Two months later, de Cruz, 28, was near death unconscious in a hospital in Singapore. Doctors at first were baffled. But they came to suspect that an ingredient in the diet drug had ravaged her liver, which had all but shut down.
De Cruz's life was saved by an emergency transplant after her finance', actor Pierre Pug, donated half his own liver. She now takes immunosuppressant, which keep her bodyfrom rejecting the transplant but leave her weak and vulnerable to further illness. She's wary of planning her wedding to Prig, more than a year away, fearing she may not survive that long. "I feel I'm still living a nightmare," she says. She is, at any rate, still living. In June, fellow Singaporean Selvarani Raja, a 43-year-old logistics manger at Singapore Technologies, died from liver failure. She had started taking the same diet supplement, Slim 10, in April.
With body consciousness increasingly becoming an obsession, Asians are overgrazing the smorgasbord of weight-loss products and "miracle" diet aids, ranging from "fat reducing pressurized boots to expensive massage regimens. Nobody knows how many are buying untested products of dubious efficacy-certainly consumers number in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions. Some, however, are proving to be deadly. Over the past two years, seven women in Japan, Singapore and China have died due to the toxicity of the substances they ingested in the hope of shedding offending kilograms. From differing ethnicities and socioeconomic backgrounds and ranging in age from 16 to 60, the women had one thing in common: like De Cruz, they were all taking Chinese-made diet pills containing a variant of fenfluramine, an appetite suppressant that has been banned in the U.S. since 1997 for damaging heart valves. Doctors and health officials in Asia now believe the newer compound, called N-nitroso fenfluramine, can cause liver failure.
The deaths- as well as more than 600 illnesses linked in Japan to Chinese diet pills- have alerted health authorities to a hazard they have been almost powerless to stop. Similar drugs were implicated in deaths in China last year, with scores more falling ill in Korea and Hong Kong, Japan last month banned 24 types of Chinese diet drugs - many containing N-nitroso fenfluramine - and rushed through new laws placing the burden on importers to prove product safety or face a fine of up to $26,000. Just last week, health officials in China published a ban on 13 diet products, seven of which were found to contain fenfluramine.

Read the passages given below carefully and answer the question that follow:
PASSAGE
The Bush Administration may be unsure about Saddam Hussein, but it has already decided how to go after alleged evildoers in Big Business - with guns blazing. "If you're a CEO and you think you can fudge the books in order to make yourself look better, we're going to find you, we're going to arrest you and we're going to hold you to account, *President Bush sa id last week in Charleston, South Carolina
It didn't take long for the FBI to make good on that promise. A week after hauling in adelphia Communication's frail, white-haired founder, John Rigas, and two of his sons if they were armed and dangerous, FBI agents gave former WorldCom executives Scott Sullivan and David Myers the same star treatment, parading the handcuffed quarry in an early-morning prep walk and prompting Sullivan's lawyer to complain about "the unfair taint of the current political climate."
"We didn't have anything to do with it," a senior administration official says of the high-profile collars. "But of course they're a big help. It means the system is working, and that helps with [investor] confidence. "If so, that wasn't reflected in the stock market,which swooned on Thursday and Friday.
Arrests and indictments don't necessarily result in convictions- think back to the Wall Street scandals of the 1980s. But for now, with mid-term congressional elections looming and control of the House and Senate at issue, that's almost beside the point. Nor is the spectacle over. The House Energy and Commerce Committee in particular is contemplating more hearings later this year, with an invitation list that might include everyone from Global Crossing to Imclone, a committee source told TIME. And as Democratic opponents seize on the White House's cozy links to corporate America- and especially to Harken Energy and Halliburton - the Bust administration seems to believe that the best defense is a full-scale offensive.
Though by far the most visible, the World Com duo wasn't the only prey: telecom firm Qwest, already under investigation by the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) and the Department of Justice (DOJ), is close to restating the past three years of earnings by more than $1 billion; apparel maker Warnaco is now in the SEC's cross hairs; and prosecutors were driving a hard bargain in plea negotiations with Imclone's ex-CEO Samuel Waksal, insisting that he accept at least seven years in prison on insider - trading charges and declining to spare his family members from prosecution.

‘When were you in Morocco?’ a globetrotter friend excitedly asked me. ‘Never been there, I’m keen to visit it, though,’ I sallied. ‘This is Morocco,’ he said emphatically, pointing to an image on the monitor. ‘This is Punjab,’ I countered. ‘It’s the Grand Mosque of Marakesh,’ he stressed. ‘It’s the Moorish Mosque in Kapurthala,’ I smiled. Our rebuttal session got a tad extended leaving my friend utterly flummoxed and I thought of bailing him out. ‘You’ve been partially accurate all along. The mosque is a replica.’ He was astounded. So are a host of others initially when they see the images of Kapurthala, an erstwhile royal province defined by its architectural grandeur. Their surprise springs not from the verity that a facsimile structure exists, but from the knowledge that it stands in Punjab!
The feisty agrarian land of Punjab has always been shy in boasting about its built heritage, instead letting its overenthusiastic bhangra and scrumptious tandoori chicken do most of the talking. Nonetheless, it does have stunning edifices dotting its landscape and is quite an indulgence for the history-digger. Amongst them all, Kapurthala is definitely the crowning glory. Its lineage dates back to founder, Jassa Singh Ahluwalia, an astute warrior, who played a pivotal role in crushing numerous invasions to become the first leader who consolidated large parts of Punjab. In a way, Jassa Singh laid the path for Punjab’s most exceptional monarch, Maharaja Ranjit Singh, to establish an impregnable Sikh empire years later.
However, Kapurthala owes its structural legacy to Maharaja Jagatjit Singh. A widely-travelled royal, his voyages allowed him to see exceptional architecture and he chose the blueprint of some of the finest in the world to adorn his State with. That’s how Kapurthala got the Moorish Mosque. Recreated by the French architect, Manteaux, on the pattern of the Koutoubia or Grand Mosque of Marakesh, Morocco’s signature structure, it was erected in 1930 at a cost of ` 4 lakh. Far removed from the Indo-Islamic, marble-domed mosques found around the country, it has instead a brick-work facade, no dome, a flat roofed entrance and, uniquely, a single cuboidal minaret.
What appealed instantly were the joyous colors that reflected a Mediterranean ambience. I was gripped by a rose pink wall meeting a lemon one round the corner, mustard-colored arches, glazed dark turquoise ridged tiles capping a hexagonal dome or the touch of green in its minaret. The intricate, brick-filigreed minaret is further adorned with a spire which is three copper balls in reducing size, signifying the traditional style of the Almohads, a dynasty that originated in 1121 A.D. with Ibn Tumart, a Berber tribe member of the Atlas Mountains; and by 1149 A.D., it had established its control over Marakesh. The Grand Mosque was built between 1184 and 1199 A.D. Centuries later, the Moorish Mosque in Punjab stood as a splendid link in the six degrees of separation from a passage of history that played out in distant Africa.
Today’s Kapurthala has a reticent charm. In addition to this slice of Morocco, the town is dotted with other European replicas too. I observed a bit of France in the Jagatjit Palace, a close reproduction of the Palace of Versailles, that is now the Sainik School. A touch of Greece came across in the Jagatjit Club that’s designed on the lines of the Acropolis. A bevy of places that completed the impressive line-up were the IndoSaracenic Jhagar Singh War Memorial; Elysee Palace that’s now MGN Public School; the Islamic-patterned former Durbar Hall which at present serves as the District Court; and the Randhir College that was set up in 1856 and named after a former ruler.

Forty years after man first set foot on the moon, the United States has dispatched two unmanned lunar spacecraft to earth’s natural satellite to pave the way for humans to return there. The search for deposits of water is high on the agenda of the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter (LRO) and the Lunar Crater Observation and Sensing Satellite (LCROSS). India’s Chandrayaan-1 probe, too, may well join the quest. ‘Discovering water on the moon would be like finding a gold mine,’ said U.S. space agency NASA in a recent press document. It estimates that getting a bottle of water to the moon would run to about $50,000 at current launch costs. Therefore, the ability to extract water locally would be immensely useful if humans want to establish bases on the celestial body.
It is believed that water could have been brought to the moon by comets and meteorites that have crashed on its surface over billions of years. Likewise, hydrogen ions streaming out from the sun might have combined with oxygen from chemical compounds in the lunar soil and turned into water. The question is whether all this water has boiled off in the face of the moon’s scorching daytime temperatures and its low gravitational hold.
In a paper published in 1961, three scientists at the California Institute of Technology, put forward the idea that water ‘may well be present in appreciable quantities in shaded areas in the form of ice’. The paper appeared in the Journal of Geophysical Research around the same time President John F. Kennedy committed the U.S, to landing a man on the moon. Some thirty years later, two U.S. space probes that went to the moon, Clementine and Lunar Prospector, provided evidence that water might persist as patches of ice mixed with soil at the bottom of craters at the poles. Sunlight never reaches the bottom of some craters at the lunar poles, which therefore remain at temperatures far below the freezing point of water. So these would be ideal locations for trapping water ice on the moon. But the evidence has been disputed and scientists continue to argue vigorously about whether or not earth’s nearest neighbour holds any water.
The LRO and the LCROSS were launched from Cape Canaveral in Florid The two spacecraft, along with Chandrayaan-1, will undoubtedly throw a great deal of new light on the issue. Once the spacecraft is commissioned, a slew of instruments on it will look for signs of water ice and hydrogen in different ways.
The LCROSS and the spent upper stage of the Atlas rocket that launched the two spacecraft have swung past the moon for the first time. NASA plans to send the empty upper stage, weighing over 2,000 kg, hurtling into a crater near the lunar south pole at a speed of about 9,000 km per hour.

‘Human life has meaning only to that degree and as long as it is lived in the service of humanity’.
So said Wole Soyinka, the Nigerian Nobel Laureate, in his book of prison notes titled, The Man Died. Soyinka has lived a meaningful life. As a poet, dramatist, novelist, essayist and literary critic, his contribution to literature has been immense. Soyinka is more than a writer. An outspoken social critic, political activist and tireless crusader against tyranny, he is the conscience of Afric
Born in a Yoruba family in Abeokuta, Soyinka is the inheritor of the best of two worlds. His family was Christian. In the book, Ake: The Years of Childhood, he recalls the influences of his Christian home. His father was a schoolmaster. In his well-stocked library, where young Wole spent hours, the foundation of a literary career was laid. But it was his grandfather who initiated young Soyinka into the rituals and religious beliefs of his people.
Soyinka’s creative art is anchored in his culture. With all his pride in the culture of his people, Soyinka was no blind worshipper of Africa’s past. This was startlingly proved by his play, A Dance of the Forests, written for the Independence celebrations of Nigeria in 1960. As sadistic and megalomaniac dictators emerged in independent African nations, Soyinka’s moral fervour deepened. Soyinka has been severe also in his criticism of his countrymen. His hilarious comedies and brilliant political satires like Opera Wonyosi have brought to light evils and signs of decadence in Nigerian society. In the midst of the violence and chaos that marked the history of independent Nigeria, Soyinka kept his sanity. His deep moral outrage, however, drove him to take enormous personal risks. Soyinka was arrested and held in solitary confinement for more than two years. Soyinka produced some of his best works in prison. After he was being released, he chose to go on voluntary exile for a long period. The bedrock of Soyinka’s unwavering social commitment is his deep love for Afric When he received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1986, Soyinka held out the Prize in the direction of the African continent. This touching gesture was an acknowledgment of his belief that the Prize was an affirmation of African culture, literature and art that had long been trampled by the colonial powers.
In his Nobel Prize acceptance speech, Soyinka eloquently affirmed the African values. He called for the political will to dismantle all structures of racism and human inequality. The speech echoed his statement in The Man Died, ‘For me justice is the prime condition of humanity.’ It was in recognition of this passionate commitment that in 1994, UNESCO made Soyinka its Goodwill Ambassador for the promotion of African culture and human rights.

There are millions of children in India, who cannot, for a variety of reasons, be protected by their parents and adult family. They maybe dead, or alcoholic, or violent and abusive, or in jail, or lost, or have abandoned their child. The parents may also be themselves destitute, homeless, gravely ill or disabled, and therefore unable to care for their children without support. The child, who has no home or settled place or abode and any ostensible means of subsistence maybe at risk in other ways as well: due to riots, natural disasters, war and militant conflict; disabilities and incurable terminal ailments, with no one who can support or look after the child; when a child is grossly abused or tortured; is inducted into drug abuse or trafficking; child marriage and child labor. In all such situations, it is the State, which is both morally and legally responsible to protect, nurture and raise each child.
However, at present, the State in India invests miniscule resources in child protection. India today is a youthful nation: 19 percent of the children in the world live within its boundaries, and more than one-third of the population is below 18 years. Accounting for the largest number of children in work, and the second largest number of children affected by HIV, India arguably has the highest number of children facing exploitation and neglect in the world. But the investment on child protection was a shocking 0.034 per cent of the budget.
Traditionally, public authorities have tried to accomplish their duty of protecting children who are at risk mainly by locking away large numbers of these children in State-run, closed institutions for many years until the child grows to adulthood, and soon after the child comes of age by abruptly discharging the child without any further support into the larger society. Private and religious charities also sometimes run orphanages for such children, but they are usually run on similar custodial principles of raising the child in confined and overly disciplined environments. For children who conflict with the law, there are statutory ‘special homes’ to which they are usually confined in conditions similar to jails. For many years, these children also shared adult jails, and many illegally continue to do so.
It is both absurd and heartless for children to be locked up only because they have no one to protect them. It is argued that this is done for the sake of the child: if the child was free in the community, the State would be unable to protect the child from abuse, and therefore she is locked up for her own good. This is quite illogical. The State must find ways to protect the child who is in need of care in ways that respect the child’s right to a happy and free childhood, while at the same time ensuring her protection, and her rights to food, education, health care, recreation, love and security.

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