SN Academy

  Courage Courage isn’t a brilliant dash, A daring deed in a moment’s flash; It isn’t an instantaneous thing Born of despair with a sudden spring It isn’t a creature of flickered hope Or the final tug at a slipping rope; But it’s something deep in the soul of man That is working always to serve some plan. Courage isn’t the last resort In the work of life or the game of sport; It isn’t a thing that a man can call At some future time when he’s apt to fall; If he hasn’t it now, he will have it not When the strain is great and the pace is hot. For who would strive for a distant goal Must always have courage within his soul. Courage isn’t a dazzling light That flashes and passes away from sight; It’s a slow, unwavering, ingrained trait With the patience to work and the strength to wait. It’s part of a man when his skies are blue, It’s part of him when he has work to do. The brave man never is freed of it. He has it when there i...

  A Story of Self Sacrifice and Bravery Prose Pan Am Flight 73 It was the morning of September 5, 1986. The aircraft, Pan Am Flight 73 with 360 passengers on board, had just arrived from Mumbai and was ready to depart from Jinnah International Airport in Karachi for its destination — the United States. Unfortunately, the flight was hijacked by four heavily armed terrorists while it was parked at Karachi airport. The passengers on the plane hailed from different countries — there were Indians, Germans, Americans, and Pakistanis, among others. The terrorists were more intent on targeting the Americans. When Neerja was told to collect the passports of the passengers, Neerja managed to hide their passports and discard them down the rubbish chute. With her help at least 39 American passengers were saved out of 41. The hijackers wanted to fl y to Israel and crash the plane against a building. On being confronted with this unexpected calamity , Neerja immediately sprang into actio...

  Sindbad – My First Voyage Sinbad the Sailor is a fictional mariner and the hero of a story-cycle of Middle Eastern origin. He is described as a man from Baghdad during the early Abbasid Caliphate (8th and 9th centuries CE). In the course of seven voyages throughout the seas east of Africa and south of Asia, he has fantastic adventures in magical realms, encountering monsters and witnessing supernatural  phenomena . In this extract, the rich Sindbad describes his first voyage to the poor Sindbad (porter). My father was a rich merchant. When he died, I was still young. He left behind a big wealth. However, I was an inexperienced thoughtless youth and spent all his wealth foolishly. I returned to my senses only after the loss of all the wealth. I decided to sail for the Persian Gulf with some goods. Our group sailed from one country to another, selling the goods. One day, when we were on board, we saw a beautiful small green island. Just to have some fun, we all g...

  Sea Fever   I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by; And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking, And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking. I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;   And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds fl ying, And the fl ung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.                              ...

    Section I Journey by Train   This extract is taken from the classic adventure novel, Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne. An Englishman, Mr. Phileas Fogg, along with his French attendant, Passepartout, attempts to go round the world in eighty days on a wager of $20,000 (roughly $1.6 million today) set by his friends at the Reform Club. Read this extract, where Phileas Fogg travels through some parts of India at a time when the railways were being built in the country. Some places are spelt differently as the book was written over a century ago. The train had started punctually. Among the passengers were a number of officers, Government offi cials and merchants. Passepart out rode in the same carriage with Mr.Fogg, and a third passenger occupied a seat opposite to them. This was Sir Francis Cromarty, one of the friends Mr. Fogg made on the ship Mongolia that brought him to Bombay. An hour after leaving Bombay the train had passed the bridges and the I...

  Naya - The Home of Chitrakaars Supplementary   Naya is a quaint little village in West Bengal’s Midnapore district. However, it is not an ordinary village. Around 250 patuas or chitrakaars or artists live there. These folk artistes are painters, lyricists, singers and performers all rolled into one. They practise an ancient folk art called Pata Chitra. This is a type of storytelling using painted scrolls. The scrolls have stories painted on them and the artists sing the story as they unroll the scroll. This art has been practised since the 13th century. Traditionally, such story tellers took their painted scrolls from village to village. In every village they unrolled the scrolls frame by frame. and sang pater gaan or the story songs. In return for their performance, the villagers gave them rice, vegetables and money. Their stories included mythological stories and tribal folklore. Nowadays the artists sing of social messages and contemporary events as well. Over tim...

  Wandering Singers   Where the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet, Through echoing forest and echoing street, With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam, All men are our kindred, the world is our home.   Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed, The laughter and beauty of women long dead; The sword of old battles, the crown of old kings, And happy and simple and sorrowful things.   What hope shall we gather, what dreams shall we sow? Where the wind calls our wandering footsteps we go. No love bids us tarry, no joy bids us wait: The voice of the wind is the voice of our fate.                                                            ...