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This passage is from Chetan Bhagat, One Indian Girl. ©2016 by Chetan Bhagat. The setting is New Delhi, India.
The story is about Radhika Mehta, a successful Indian woman, who is preparing her marriage
[1]
Some people are good at taking decisions. I am not one of them. Some people fall asleep quickly at night. I am
not one of them either. [5] It is in the morning. I have tossed and turned in bed for two hours. I am to get married in
fifteen hours. We have over 200 guests in the hotel, here to attend my grand destination wedding in Goa. I brought
them here. [10] Everyone is excited. After all, it is the first destination wedding in the Mehta family. I am the bride. I
should get my beauty sleep. I can’t. The last thing I care about right now is beauty. [15] The only thing I care about
is how to get out of this mess. Because, like it often happens to me, here I am in a situation where I don’t know
what the fuck is going on.
‘What do you mean, not enough rooms?’ I said to Arijit Banerjee, the lobby manager of the Goa Marriott.
[18]
‘See, what I am trying to explain is. . .’ Arijit began in his modulated, courteous voice when mom cut him off.
‘It’s my daughter’s wedding. Are you going to shame us?’ she said, her volume loud enough to startle the
rest of the reception staff.
[20]
‘No, ma’am. Just a shortage of twenty rooms. You booked a hundred. We had only promised eighty then.
We hoped to give more but the chief minister had a function and.. .’
‘What do we tell our guests who have come all the way from America?’ mom said.
‘If I may suggest, there is another hotel two kilometres away,’ Arijit said.
‘We have to be together. You are going to ruin my daughter’s wedding for some sarkaari function?’ my
mother said, bosom heaving, breath heavy—classic warning signs of an upcoming storm.
‘Mom, go sit with dad, please. I will sort this out,’ I said. Mom glared at me. How could I, the bride, do all
this in the first place? I should be worried about my facials, not room allocations.
[25]
‘The boy’s side arrives in less than three hours. I can’t believe this,’ she muttered, walking to the sofa at
the centre of the lobby. My father sat there along with Kamla bua, his elder sister. Other uncles and aunts occupied
the remaining couches in the lobby—a Mehta takeover of the Marriott. My mother looked at my father, a level-two
glare. It signified: ‘Will you ever take the initiative?’
[30]
My father shifted in his seat. I refocused on the lobby manager.
‘What can be done now, Arijit?’ I said. ‘My entire family is here.’
We had come on the morning flight from Delhi. The Gulatis, the boy’s side, would take off from Mumbai at 3
p.m. and land in Goa at 4. Twenty hired Innovas would bring them to the hotel by 5. [35] I checked the time—2.30 p.m.
‘See, ma’am, we have set up a special desk for the Mehta–Gulati wedding,’ Arijit said. ‘We are doing the
check-ins for your family now.’
He pointed to a makeshift counter at the far corner of the lobby where three female Marriott employees with
permanent smiles sat. They welcomed everyone with folded hands. [40] Each guest received a shell necklace, a set
of key cards for the room, a map of the Marriott Goa property and a ‘wedding information booklet’. The booklet
contained the entire programme for the week, including the time, venue and other details of the ceremonies.
‘My side will take fifty rooms. The Gulatis need fifty too,’ I said.
‘If you take fifty, ma’am, we will only have thirty left for them,’ Arijit said.
Where is Suraj?’ I said. Suraj was the owner of Moonshine Events, the event manager we had appointed for
the wedding. [45] ‘We will manage last minute’ is what he had told me.
‘At the airport,’ Arijit said.
My father ambled up to the reception desk. ‘Everything okay, beta?’
I explained the situation to him.
‘Thirty rooms! The Gulatis have 120 guests,’ my father said.
[50]
‘Exactly.’ I threw up my hands.
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Mom and Kamla bua came to the reception as well. ‘I told Sudarshan also, why all this Goa business? Delhi
has so many nice banquet halls and farmhouses. Seems like you have money to waste,’ Kamla bua said.
I wanted to retort but my mother gave me the Mother Look.
[55]
They are our guests, I reminded myself. I let out a huge breath.
‘How many from our side?’ my mother said.
‘Mehta family has 117 guests, ma’am,’ Arijit said, counting from his reservation sheets.
‘If we only have eighty, that is forty rooms for each side,’ I said. ‘Let’s reallocate. Stop the check-ins for the
Mehtas right now.’
[60]
Arijit signalled the smiling ladies at the counter. They stopped the smiles and the check-ins and put the
shell necklaces back in the drawer.
‘How can we reduce the rooms for the boy’s side?’ my mother said in a shocked voice.
‘What else to do?’ I said.
‘How many rooms are they expecting? ’she said.
[65]
‘Fifty,’ I said. ‘Call them now. They will readjust their allocations on the way here.’
‘How can you ask the boy’s side to adjust?’ Kamla bua said. ‘Aparna, are you serious?’
My mother looked at Kamla bua and me.
[70
] ‘But how can we manage in only thirty rooms?’ I said and turned to my father. ‘Dad, call them.’
‘Sudarshan, don’t insult them before they even arrive,’ Kamla bua said. ‘We will manage in thirty rooms. It’s
okay. Some of us will sleep on the floor.’
[75]
‘Nobody needs to sleep on the floor, bua,’ I said. ‘I am sorry this screw-up happened. But if we have forty
rooms each, it is three to a room. With so many kids anyway, it should be fine.’
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This passage adapted from Indonesia’s Occupational Employment Outlook ©2020 by The World Bank and
Indonesia’s Ministry of National Development Planning (Bappenas)
[1]
Occupations Today Total demand—defined as the volume of workers today plus available vacancies—is an
important indicator for understanding which occupations have good employment prospects. Identifying these
occupations is relevant because slight changes in their demand will affect many workers. [3] Total current demand is
a stock, not a flow, indicator. While it does not provide information about how the occupation will be demanded in
the future, it constitutes the baseline for the occupational analysis and should be taken into consideration. [5] OEVS
is the first survey that attempts to estimate total demand at higher-digit occupational level.
[6]
Consistent with Indonesia’s workforce, the detailed occupational analysis shows that the majority of employment
is concentrated in low-skilled occupations in low-value-added services. It shows the top 15 occupations with the
highest volume of employment. [8] The bars are coloured, showing the distribution of employment according to
economic group (with the caveat that only selected subgroups are in the sample), and the label at the end of the bar
indicates the most common minimum level of education that employers demand for that occupation. Half of these
occupations are food-related activities. [10] More specifically, a large number of workers are cooks (KBJI 5120) and
street food salespersons (KBJI 5212). This is consistent with OEVS firms’ characteristics and levels of informality:
firms in the accommodation and food sectors are massively informal and hire almost 30 percent of all workers.
Most firms hiring these occupations do not require a minimum level of education.
[13]
Very few of the top 15 occupations are associated with high-value-added firms, confirming messages from other
reports that Indonesia still needs to industrialize and professionalize. In higher-productivity firms, the most
demanded occupations are security guards (KBJI 5414), hired at high- value-added services firms, and sewing
machine operators (KBJI 8153), hired at manufacturing firms. Both occupations require at least some level of
secondary education
[15]
Only three occupations are in the top 15 for both indicators of good short-term dynamics. Advertising and
marketing professionals (KBJI 2431), which is one of the largest occupations today, and graphic and multimedia
designers (KBJI 2166) experienced a large increase in employment in both absolute terms (30,797 and 4,219 new
jobs, respectively) and relative to the baseline (20.6 percent and 34.4 percent growth, respectively). [17] Low-value-
added services firms generate most of these jobs. Civil engineer technicians (KBJI 3112) also experienced a large
increase in both absolute and percentage change (3,306 jobs and 39.8 percent growth). [19] High-value-added firms
and, to a lesser extent, manufacturing firms create these types of jobs.
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This passage is adapted from Charlotte’s web by E. B White © 1952. The story takes place on a farm, concerns a pig
names Wilbur, Fern Arable is an eight-year-old girl who lives on a farm with her parents and older brother Avery.
[1]
Where's Papa going with that ax?" said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast.
"Out to the hog house," replied Mrs. Arable. "Some pigs were born last night."
[3]
"I don't see why he needs an ax," continued Fern, who was only eight.
"Well," said her mother, "one of the pigs is a runt. It's very small and weak, and it will never amount to anything.
So, your father has decided to do away with it."
[6]
"Do away with it?" shrieked Fern. "You mean kill it? Just because it's smaller than the others?"
Mrs. Arable put a pitcher of cream on the table. "Don't yell, Fern!" she said. "Your father is right. [10] The pig would
probably die anyway."
Fern pushed a chair out of the way and ran outdoors. The grass was wet and the earth smelled of springtime. [13]
Fern's sneakers were sopping by the time she caught up with her father.
"Please don't kill it!" she sobbed. "It's unfair”
Mr. Arable stopped walking.
[16]
"Fern," he said gently, "you will have to learn to control yourself."
"Control myself?" yelled Fern. "This is a matter of life and death, and you talk about controlling myself." [19] Tears
ran down her cheeks and she took hold of the ax and tried to pull it out of her father's hand.
"Fern," said Mr. Arable, "I know more about raising a litter of pigs than you do. [21] A weakling makes trouble.
Now run along!"
[23]
"But it's unfair," cried Fern. "The pig couldn't help being born small, could it? If I had been very small at birth,
would you have killed me?"
[25]
Mr. Arable smiled. "Certainly not," he said, looking down at his daughter with love. "But this is different. A
little girl is one thing, a little runty pig is another."
[29]
"I see no difference," replied Fern, still hanging on to the ax. "This is the most terrible case of injustice I ever
heard of."
A queer look came over John Arable's face. He seemed almost ready to cry himself.
[33]
"All right," he said. "You go back to the house and I will bring the runt when I come in. I'll let you start it on a
bottle, like a baby. Then you'll see what trouble a pig can be."
When Mr. Arable returned to the house half an hour later, he carried a carton under his arm. [36] Fern was upstairs
changing her sneakers. The kitchen table was set for breakfast, and the room smelled of coffee, bacon, damp
plaster, and wood smoke from the stove.
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"Put it on her chair!" said Mrs. Arable. Mr. Arable set the carton down at Fern's place. [40] Then he walked to the
sink and washed his hands and dried them on the roller towel.
Fern came slowly down the stairs. Her eyes were red from crying. As she approached her chair, the carton
wobbled, and there was a scratching noise. Fern looked at her father. [45] Then she lifted the lid of the carton. There,
inside, looking up at her, was the newborn pig. It was a white one. The morning light shone through its ears,
turning them pink.
"He's yours," said Mr. Arable. "Saved from an untimely death. [50] And may the good Lord forgive me for this
foolishness.
Fern couldn't take her eyes off the tiny pig. "Oh," she whispered. "Oh, look at him! He's absolutely perfect."
[54]
She closed the carton carefully. First, she kissed her father, then she kissed her mother. Then she opened the lid
again, lifted the pig out, and held it against her cheek. [57] At this moment her brother Avery came into the room.
Avery was ten.
He was heavily armed - an air rifle in one hand, a wooden dagger in the other.
[60]
"Wash up and eat your breakfast, Avery!" said his mother.
"The school bus will be along in half an hour."
"Can I have a pig, too, Pop?" asked Avery.
"No, I only distribute pigs to early risers," said Mr. Arable. "Fern was up at daylight, trying to rid the world of
injustice. [65] As a result, she now has a pig. A small one, to be sure, but nevertheless a pig. It just shows what can
happen if a person gets out of bed promptly. Let's eat!"
But Fern couldn't eat until her pig had had a drink of milk. "[70] Its name is Wilbur," she whispered to herself.
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This passage is adapted from USINDO Brief a publication of the United States-Indonesia Society “Habibie on
Democracy…..and Habibie” ©2008
[1]
In March of 1998 B.J. Habibie, a scientist educated in Germany with a distinguished career in his field and 20
years as a protégé with ministerial rank in President Suharto’s cabinets, was elected vice president of Indonesia by
the People’s Consultative Assembly (MPR). Two months later, as Indonesia’s economic crisis deepened and calls
for Suharto’s resignation mounted, the president precipitously resigned on May 21 .[3] Habibie was sworn in as
president. He served until October 20, 1999, when he declined to run for president in the 1999 elections after his
accountability speech to the Assembly was rejected by 51% of the vote.
[5]
During his short tenure, he dismantled the authoritarian regime set up by the two previous presidents. He
immediately freed political prisoners, removed restrictions on the press and made the state Bank Indonesia
independent of government. [7] Subsequently he set in motion the withdrawal of Indonesia from East Timor,
instituted the largest decentralization of government arguably in world history, and opened up the political system
to pave the way for the best elections – in 1999—since 1955.
[8]
All this was done in a way no one had anticipated. He might be called the “Accidental President,” since no one
believed that Suharto ever intended to be succeeded by Habibie. If Sukarno was the Father of Independence and
Suharto the Father of Development, Habibie might claim the title Father of Democracy.
[10]
Former President B.J. Habibie was in fine form as he addressed a USINDO audience in Washington DC on
Indonesian democracy and U.S.- Indonesian relations on January 29 – and added revealing remarks about his brief
time in history’s limelight. Those who knew him in the days when he was a minister in President Suharto’s cabinet
may have wondered if the years since he stepped down as president in 1999 have mellowed him, or whether he is
still his ebullient, irrepressible self.
[12]
He has mellowed indeed but he still presented a moving target as he glided around the speaker’s platform,
winding up eventually with a hand mike and a laser pointer as he turned alternately to a power point big-screen
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17. Over the course of the passage, the main focus shifts
from a
A. General discussion of the narrator’s points of
view to a portrayal of an influential accident
B. Depiction of the narrator’s point of view to an
examination of an important figure with whom
the narrator becomes enchanted
C. Symbolic representation of a skill the narrator
possesses to an example figure
D. Talk about the hardships of Indonesian figure’s
history to an analysis
E. Describe the passion that drives the action of
the narrator
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