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Directions: In the following question, one or more dots are placed in the Question figure marked as A. This figure is followed by four alternatives marked as a, b, c and d. One of these four options contains region(s) common to circle, square, triangle, similar to that marked by the dot in question figure.

Identify the missing part of the given figure and select it from given answer figures.

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Refer to the caselet given below to answer the questions that follow.

Madame Curie, a European investor, recently acquired a famous company Radioactive Decay Limited (RDL). She was browsing through the past record of RDL when she noticed that the sales of RDL have shown a steady increase (every year) of 10% over its value in 1986. The expenses of RDL have shown a steady decrease (every year) of 2% over its value in 1986. The Employee Strength of RDL has shown a steady increase (every year) of 1% over its value in 1986. The Asset Base of RDL has shown a steady increase (every year) of 3% over its value in 1986. The Exports of RDL have shown a steady increase (every year) of 10% over its value in 1986.

The exports (Rs crores) of RDL in 1986 were 20 which were 5% of its asset base for the same year and the sales were Rs 100 crores more than its asset base. The expenses were exactly half of its sales and number of employees was 200.

Note: That all the increase/decrease mentioned are with respect to base year 1986 and there is no compounded increase/decrease mentioned.

Refer to the caselet given below to answer the questions that follow.

Madame Curie, a European investor, recently acquired a famous company Radioactive Decay Limited (RDL). She was browsing through the past record of RDL when she noticed that the sales of RDL have shown a steady increase (every year) of 10% over its value in 1986. The expenses of RDL have shown a steady decrease (every year) of 2% over its value in 1986. The Employee Strength of RDL has shown a steady increase (every year) of 1% over its value in 1986. The Asset Base of RDL has shown a steady increase (every year) of 3% over its value in 1986. The Exports of RDL have shown a steady increase (every year) of 10% over its value in 1986.

The exports (Rs crores) of RDL in 1986 were 20 which were 5% of its asset base for the same year and the sales were Rs 100 crores more than its asset base. The expenses were exactly half of its sales and number of employees was 200.

Note: That all the increase/decrease mentioned are with respect to base year 1986 and there is no compounded increase/decrease mentioned.

Refer to the caselet given below to answer the questions that follow.

Madame Curie, a European investor, recently acquired a famous company Radioactive Decay Limited (RDL). She was browsing through the past record of RDL when she noticed that the sales of RDL have shown a steady increase (every year) of 10% over its value in 1986. The expenses of RDL have shown a steady decrease (every year) of 2% over its value in 1986. The Employee Strength of RDL has shown a steady increase (every year) of 1% over its value in 1986. The Asset Base of RDL has shown a steady increase (every year) of 3% over its value in 1986. The Exports of RDL have shown a steady increase (every year) of 10% over its value in 1986.

The exports (Rs crores) of RDL in 1986 were 20 which were 5% of its asset base for the same year and the sales were Rs 100 crores more than its asset base. The expenses were exactly half of its sales and number of employees was 200.

Note: That all the increase/decrease mentioned are with respect to base year 1986 and there is no compounded increase/decrease mentioned.

Refer to the caselet given below to answer the questions that follow.

Madame Curie, a European investor, recently acquired a famous company Radioactive Decay Limited (RDL). She was browsing through the past record of RDL when she noticed that the sales of RDL have shown a steady increase (every year) of 10% over its value in 1986. The expenses of RDL have shown a steady decrease (every year) of 2% over its value in 1986. The Employee Strength of RDL has shown a steady increase (every year) of 1% over its value in 1986. The Asset Base of RDL has shown a steady increase (every year) of 3% over its value in 1986. The Exports of RDL have shown a steady increase (every year) of 10% over its value in 1986.

The exports (Rs crores) of RDL in 1986 were 20 which were 5% of its asset base for the same year and the sales were Rs 100 crores more than its asset base. The expenses were exactly half of its sales and number of employees was 200.

Note: That all the increase/decrease mentioned are with respect to base year 1986 and there is no compounded increase/decrease mentioned.

Refer to the caselet given below to answer the questions that follow.

Madame Curie, a European investor, recently acquired a famous company Radioactive Decay Limited (RDL). She was browsing through the past record of RDL when she noticed that the sales of RDL have shown a steady increase (every year) of 10% over its value in 1986. The expenses of RDL have shown a steady decrease (every year) of 2% over its value in 1986. The Employee Strength of RDL has shown a steady increase (every year) of 1% over its value in 1986. The Asset Base of RDL has shown a steady increase (every year) of 3% over its value in 1986. The Exports of RDL have shown a steady increase (every year) of 10% over its value in 1986.

The exports (Rs crores) of RDL in 1986 were 20 which were 5% of its asset base for the same year and the sales were Rs 100 crores more than its asset base. The expenses were exactly half of its sales and number of employees was 200.

Note: That all the increase/decrease mentioned are with respect to base year 1986 and there is no compounded increase/decrease mentioned.

Study the following graph and table and answer accordingly:

The following table shows the FDI in India states during the year 1999-2000

The following graphs shows the investment in different sectors

Study the following graph and table and answer accordingly:

The following table shows the FDI in India states during the year 1999-2000

The following graphs shows the investment in different sectors

Study the following graph and table and answer accordingly:

The following table shows the FDI in India states during the year 1999-2000

The following graphs shows the investment in different sectors

Study the following graph and table and answer accordingly:

The following table shows the FDI in India states during the year 1999-2000

The following graphs shows the investment in different sectors

Study the following graph and table and answer accordingly:

The following table shows the FDI in India states during the year 1999-2000

The following graphs shows the investment in different sectors

Lately, I have become fascinated with the growth of a new kind of euphemistic language called "politically correct", or P.C. Since the words we use reveal how we see the world-and how we want others to see it—people who use P .C. language want us to see the world their way—and act accordingly. Just for instance, in everyday usage fat people may be called stout, stocky, overweight, heavy or even fat. But in P .C. language they are calorically disadvantaged, differently sized, or are size acceptance advocates. Going even further, P .C. language has created new oppressions: sizeism, the bias against the differently sized, that is practised by sizists; and lookism, the belief that some people are easier on the eyes than others. I call my two cats pets, but in P .C. language, they're animal companions, friends or protectors. Well, in some ways, cats are friends and companions, but they're still pets, and I don't treat them the same way I treat my friends (nor do my friends treat me the way my cats do). Thanks anyway, but I'd like to reserve "friend" and "companion" for the important human relationships in my life. In my youth I spent some time at Shrinivas Hospital for Crippled Children in Chickmagalur. Most of us in that hospital had had the same bad experience with polio. Sure, we were crippled in one way or another, and we knew we were, but the word crippled never bothered us. What bothered us were the people who treated us as if we were untouchables. It was the actions of others, not their words that hurt. Now, of course, thanks to P.C., we would be described as physically challenged uniquely abled, differently abled, orthopedically impaired, or as having differing abilities. Just as blind people have become differently sighted, visually impaired, print handicapped, or have reduced visual acuity, and people who stutter are speech impaired. (What's next: Will someone who's dead be called differently alive?) I have never been fond of the term senior citizen, but its meaning is certainly clearer than chronologically gifted. And I have no problem with retirement community; what is gained by calling it a senior aggregate living community? In my language, kids misbehave sometimes, but in P .C. they engage in negative attention-getting; and they don't just learn to read any more but to interact with print. Racial and ethnic groups have always been sensitive to the terms applied to them, and surely we should call them what they want to be called. But to avoid chaos they need to agree among themselves; and we need a consensus among all users of the language as to what words mean. In P.C., for instance, Indian and Native Indian have been replaced by Indigenous People, Bhartiya or Abo-Bhartiya, short for aboriginal Bhartiya. How many people really know what these terms mean? And are they really an improvement over the terms they are supposed to replace? To their credit, many people who insist on P .C. usage believe that changing our language can eventually change our thinking and thus our behaviour-thereby eliminating racism, sexism and all the other isms we deplore. I disagree. We can camouflage our problems, ranging from thoughtlessness to outright bigotry, with fancy "correct" words, but we can't cure them. Instead, we lull ourselves into the false sense that, in calling a rose by another name, we've changed it. I find much of P .C. language absurd and funny-so why do I care? I am concerned, as I said that its users want to force their view of the world, its people and its problems, on the rest of us. But I have another concern as well: P .C. language attempts to gloss over and distort truth-to prettify it. As George Orwell warned us, "If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought." Compassion must temper truth and reality at times, as when we call mentally retarded children exceptional children; but compassion and sensitivity must never be the reason for compromising truth and reality as we experience it. The damage we do to our words, to our minds and to our society may prove to be irreparable.

Lately, I have become fascinated with the growth of a new kind of euphemistic language called "politically correct", or P.C. Since the words we use reveal how we see the world-and how we want others to see it—people who use P .C. language want us to see the world their way—and act accordingly. Just for instance, in everyday usage fat people may be called stout, stocky, overweight, heavy or even fat. But in P .C. language they are calorically disadvantaged, differently sized, or are size acceptance advocates. Going even further, P .C. language has created new oppressions: sizeism, the bias against the differently sized, that is practised by sizists; and lookism, the belief that some people are easier on the eyes than others. I call my two cats pets, but in P .C. language, they're animal companions, friends or protectors. Well, in some ways, cats are friends and companions, but they're still pets, and I don't treat them the same way I treat my friends (nor do my friends treat me the way my cats do). Thanks anyway, but I'd like to reserve "friend" and "companion" for the important human relationships in my life. In my youth I spent some time at Shrinivas Hospital for Crippled Children in Chickmagalur. Most of us in that hospital had had the same bad experience with polio. Sure, we were crippled in one way or another, and we knew we were, but the word crippled never bothered us. What bothered us were the people who treated us as if we were untouchables. It was the actions of others, not their words that hurt. Now, of course, thanks to P.C., we would be described as physically challenged uniquely abled, differently abled, orthopedically impaired, or as having differing abilities. Just as blind people have become differently sighted, visually impaired, print handicapped, or have reduced visual acuity, and people who stutter are speech impaired. (What's next: Will someone who's dead be called differently alive?) I have never been fond of the term senior citizen, but its meaning is certainly clearer than chronologically gifted. And I have no problem with retirement community; what is gained by calling it a senior aggregate living community? In my language, kids misbehave sometimes, but in P .C. they engage in negative attention-getting; and they don't just learn to read any more but to interact with print. Racial and ethnic groups have always been sensitive to the terms applied to them, and surely we should call them what they want to be called. But to avoid chaos they need to agree among themselves; and we need a consensus among all users of the language as to what words mean. In P.C., for instance, Indian and Native Indian have been replaced by Indigenous People, Bhartiya or Abo-Bhartiya, short for aboriginal Bhartiya. How many people really know what these terms mean? And are they really an improvement over the terms they are supposed to replace? To their credit, many people who insist on P .C. usage believe that changing our language can eventually change our thinking and thus our behaviour-thereby eliminating racism, sexism and all the other isms we deplore. I disagree. We can camouflage our problems, ranging from thoughtlessness to outright bigotry, with fancy "correct" words, but we can't cure them. Instead, we lull ourselves into the false sense that, in calling a rose by another name, we've changed it. I find much of P .C. language absurd and funny-so why do I care? I am concerned, as I said that its users want to force their view of the world, its people and its problems, on the rest of us. But I have another concern as well: P .C. language attempts to gloss over and distort truth-to prettify it. As George Orwell warned us, "If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought." Compassion must temper truth and reality at times, as when we call mentally retarded children exceptional children; but compassion and sensitivity must never be the reason for compromising truth and reality as we experience it. The damage we do to our words, to our minds and to our society may prove to be irreparable.

Lately, I have become fascinated with the growth of a new kind of euphemistic language called "politically correct", or P.C. Since the words we use reveal how we see the world-and how we want others to see it—people who use P .C. language want us to see the world their way—and act accordingly. Just for instance, in everyday usage fat people may be called stout, stocky, overweight, heavy or even fat. But in P .C. language they are calorically disadvantaged, differently sized, or are size acceptance advocates. Going even further, P .C. language has created new oppressions: sizeism, the bias against the differently sized, that is practised by sizists; and lookism, the belief that some people are easier on the eyes than others. I call my two cats pets, but in P .C. language, they're animal companions, friends or protectors. Well, in some ways, cats are friends and companions, but they're still pets, and I don't treat them the same way I treat my friends (nor do my friends treat me the way my cats do). Thanks anyway, but I'd like to reserve "friend" and "companion" for the important human relationships in my life. In my youth I spent some time at Shrinivas Hospital for Crippled Children in Chickmagalur. Most of us in that hospital had had the same bad experience with polio. Sure, we were crippled in one way or another, and we knew we were, but the word crippled never bothered us. What bothered us were the people who treated us as if we were untouchables. It was the actions of others, not their words that hurt. Now, of course, thanks to P.C., we would be described as physically challenged uniquely abled, differently abled, orthopedically impaired, or as having differing abilities. Just as blind people have become differently sighted, visually impaired, print handicapped, or have reduced visual acuity, and people who stutter are speech impaired. (What's next: Will someone who's dead be called differently alive?) I have never been fond of the term senior citizen, but its meaning is certainly clearer than chronologically gifted. And I have no problem with retirement community; what is gained by calling it a senior aggregate living community? In my language, kids misbehave sometimes, but in P .C. they engage in negative attention-getting; and they don't just learn to read any more but to interact with print. Racial and ethnic groups have always been sensitive to the terms applied to them, and surely we should call them what they want to be called. But to avoid chaos they need to agree among themselves; and we need a consensus among all users of the language as to what words mean. In P.C., for instance, Indian and Native Indian have been replaced by Indigenous People, Bhartiya or Abo-Bhartiya, short for aboriginal Bhartiya. How many people really know what these terms mean? And are they really an improvement over the terms they are supposed to replace? To their credit, many people who insist on P .C. usage believe that changing our language can eventually change our thinking and thus our behaviour-thereby eliminating racism, sexism and all the other isms we deplore. I disagree. We can camouflage our problems, ranging from thoughtlessness to outright bigotry, with fancy "correct" words, but we can't cure them. Instead, we lull ourselves into the false sense that, in calling a rose by another name, we've changed it. I find much of P .C. language absurd and funny-so why do I care? I am concerned, as I said that its users want to force their view of the world, its people and its problems, on the rest of us. But I have another concern as well: P .C. language attempts to gloss over and distort truth-to prettify it. As George Orwell warned us, "If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought." Compassion must temper truth and reality at times, as when we call mentally retarded children exceptional children; but compassion and sensitivity must never be the reason for compromising truth and reality as we experience it. The damage we do to our words, to our minds and to our society may prove to be irreparable.

Lately, I have become fascinated with the growth of a new kind of euphemistic language called "politically correct", or P.C. Since the words we use reveal how we see the world-and how we want others to see it—people who use P .C. language want us to see the world their way—and act accordingly. Just for instance, in everyday usage fat people may be called stout, stocky, overweight, heavy or even fat. But in P .C. language they are calorically disadvantaged, differently sized, or are size acceptance advocates. Going even further, P .C. language has created new oppressions: sizeism, the bias against the differently sized, that is practised by sizists; and lookism, the belief that some people are easier on the eyes than others. I call my two cats pets, but in P .C. language, they're animal companions, friends or protectors. Well, in some ways, cats are friends and companions, but they're still pets, and I don't treat them the same way I treat my friends (nor do my friends treat me the way my cats do). Thanks anyway, but I'd like to reserve "friend" and "companion" for the important human relationships in my life. In my youth I spent some time at Shrinivas Hospital for Crippled Children in Chickmagalur. Most of us in that hospital had had the same bad experience with polio. Sure, we were crippled in one way or another, and we knew we were, but the word crippled never bothered us. What bothered us were the people who treated us as if we were untouchables. It was the actions of others, not their words that hurt. Now, of course, thanks to P.C., we would be described as physically challenged uniquely abled, differently abled, orthopedically impaired, or as having differing abilities. Just as blind people have become differently sighted, visually impaired, print handicapped, or have reduced visual acuity, and people who stutter are speech impaired. (What's next: Will someone who's dead be called differently alive?) I have never been fond of the term senior citizen, but its meaning is certainly clearer than chronologically gifted. And I have no problem with retirement community; what is gained by calling it a senior aggregate living community? In my language, kids misbehave sometimes, but in P .C. they engage in negative attention-getting; and they don't just learn to read any more but to interact with print. Racial and ethnic groups have always been sensitive to the terms applied to them, and surely we should call them what they want to be called. But to avoid chaos they need to agree among themselves; and we need a consensus among all users of the language as to what words mean. In P.C., for instance, Indian and Native Indian have been replaced by Indigenous People, Bhartiya or Abo-Bhartiya, short for aboriginal Bhartiya. How many people really know what these terms mean? And are they really an improvement over the terms they are supposed to replace? To their credit, many people who insist on P .C. usage believe that changing our language can eventually change our thinking and thus our behaviour-thereby eliminating racism, sexism and all the other isms we deplore. I disagree. We can camouflage our problems, ranging from thoughtlessness to outright bigotry, with fancy "correct" words, but we can't cure them. Instead, we lull ourselves into the false sense that, in calling a rose by another name, we've changed it. I find much of P .C. language absurd and funny-so why do I care? I am concerned, as I said that its users want to force their view of the world, its people and its problems, on the rest of us. But I have another concern as well: P .C. language attempts to gloss over and distort truth-to prettify it. As George Orwell warned us, "If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought." Compassion must temper truth and reality at times, as when we call mentally retarded children exceptional children; but compassion and sensitivity must never be the reason for compromising truth and reality as we experience it. The damage we do to our words, to our minds and to our society may prove to be irreparable.

Lately, I have become fascinated with the growth of a new kind of euphemistic language called "politically correct", or P.C. Since the words we use reveal how we see the world-and how we want others to see it—people who use P .C. language want us to see the world their way—and act accordingly. Just for instance, in everyday usage fat people may be called stout, stocky, overweight, heavy or even fat. But in P .C. language they are calorically disadvantaged, differently sized, or are size acceptance advocates. Going even further, P .C. language has created new oppressions: sizeism, the bias against the differently sized, that is practised by sizists; and lookism, the belief that some people are easier on the eyes than others. I call my two cats pets, but in P .C. language, they're animal companions, friends or protectors. Well, in some ways, cats are friends and companions, but they're still pets, and I don't treat them the same way I treat my friends (nor do my friends treat me the way my cats do). Thanks anyway, but I'd like to reserve "friend" and "companion" for the important human relationships in my life. In my youth I spent some time at Shrinivas Hospital for Crippled Children in Chickmagalur. Most of us in that hospital had had the same bad experience with polio. Sure, we were crippled in one way or another, and we knew we were, but the word crippled never bothered us. What bothered us were the people who treated us as if we were untouchables. It was the actions of others, not their words that hurt. Now, of course, thanks to P.C., we would be described as physically challenged uniquely abled, differently abled, orthopedically impaired, or as having differing abilities. Just as blind people have become differently sighted, visually impaired, print handicapped, or have reduced visual acuity, and people who stutter are speech impaired. (What's next: Will someone who's dead be called differently alive?) I have never been fond of the term senior citizen, but its meaning is certainly clearer than chronologically gifted. And I have no problem with retirement community; what is gained by calling it a senior aggregate living community? In my language, kids misbehave sometimes, but in P .C. they engage in negative attention-getting; and they don't just learn to read any more but to interact with print. Racial and ethnic groups have always been sensitive to the terms applied to them, and surely we should call them what they want to be called. But to avoid chaos they need to agree among themselves; and we need a consensus among all users of the language as to what words mean. In P.C., for instance, Indian and Native Indian have been replaced by Indigenous People, Bhartiya or Abo-Bhartiya, short for aboriginal Bhartiya. How many people really know what these terms mean? And are they really an improvement over the terms they are supposed to replace? To their credit, many people who insist on P .C. usage believe that changing our language can eventually change our thinking and thus our behaviour-thereby eliminating racism, sexism and all the other isms we deplore. I disagree. We can camouflage our problems, ranging from thoughtlessness to outright bigotry, with fancy "correct" words, but we can't cure them. Instead, we lull ourselves into the false sense that, in calling a rose by another name, we've changed it. I find much of P .C. language absurd and funny-so why do I care? I am concerned, as I said that its users want to force their view of the world, its people and its problems, on the rest of us. But I have another concern as well: P .C. language attempts to gloss over and distort truth-to prettify it. As George Orwell warned us, "If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought." Compassion must temper truth and reality at times, as when we call mentally retarded children exceptional children; but compassion and sensitivity must never be the reason for compromising truth and reality as we experience it. The damage we do to our words, to our minds and to our society may prove to be irreparable.

Anger has become the national habit. You see it on the sullen faces of fashion models that have obviously been told that anger sells. It pours out of the radio all day. Mumbai journalism hams snarl and shout at each other on television. Generations exchange sneers on TV and printed page. Ordinary people abuse leaders, administrators and the politicians with shockingly personal insults. Rudeness is a justifiable way of showing you can no longer control the fury within. Vile speech, justified on the same ground, is inescapable. 

India is angry at New Delhi, angry at the press, angry at immigrants, angry at television, angry at traffic, angry at people who are well off and angry at people who are poor, angry at the conservative and angry at the modern. 

The old are angry at the young, young angry at the old. Suburbs are angry at cities, cities are angry at suburbs, and rustic India is angry at both whenever urban and suburban intruders threaten the peaceful rustic sense of having escaped from God's Angry Land. 

Enough: A complete catalogue of the varieties of bile spoiling the Indian day would fill a library. The question is why. Why has anger become a reflexive response to the inevitable vagaries of national life?

 Living perpetually at the boiling point seems to leave the country depressed and pessimistic. Study those scowling models wearing the latest clothes in the Sunday papers and glossy magazines. Those are faces that expect only the IJ-worst. What a pity to waste such lovely new ill clothes on people so incapable of happiness. 

The popularity of anger is doubly puzzling, not only because the Indian habit even in the worst of times has traditionally been one of mindless optimism, but also because there is relatively little nowadays for the nation to be angry about. 

The country happily elected Prime Minister Nehru in 1947 because it believed his campaign boast about giving it peace and prosperity. The "peace," of course, was life under the endless threat of poverty and inequality, as viewed under Fabien Socialism. 

By contrast, the country now, at last, really does enjoy peace, and if the prosperity is not so solid as it was in the 1950s, Indian resources is still the world's vastest. So, with real peace and prosperity, what's to be furious about? 

The explanation, I suspect, is that the country got itself addicted to anger and can't shake the habit. It was hooked long ago when there was very good reason for anger. 

Massive, irritating and even scary expressions of it were vital in shaking an obdurate government, contemptuous of public opinion, from its determination to pursue policies damaging to the Indian fabric of living.

Massive, irritating and even scary expressions of anger-from Indians of all communities were needed for the triumph of democracy and the people's rights movement. 

These were monumental victories. If the nation had been unwilling to get mad to shout, "We're not going to take it anymore!" -they might not have been won. 

But what monumental struggle confronts us now? Giving a young citizen a stake in India is our most pressing problem, but nobody shouts much about that. Most other problems are so unmonumental that we might think the time is ripe for greatness: an era of civility conducive to good feeling among neighbours of all races and persuasions, a golden age of progress in learning and the arts and science. Is this making you angry? It's easy to imagine the cries of rage from a people habituated to crying rage: Are women not still oppressed by glass ceilings? Do members of the Backward Class no longer have to suffer the disrespect of the casteist world? Who dares talk of prosperity when the wealth is distributed so unfairly? 

True, all true. There is far too much poverty, casteist remains an affliction, and women still don't have economic equality with men. These present economists, philosophers and statesmen with exceedingly complex problems not amenable to solution by red-hot anger. 

Politically minded people concerned with these issues have always known that low-grade anger must be maintained, that political feet must be kept to the fire, that the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and so on. The high-intensity fury now seething through the land on these and a hundred other issues, however, doesn't seem focused on any social or economic goal. It's as though the nation got mad as hell a long time ago, got good results, and now can't shake the anger habit.

Anger has become the national habit. You see it on the sullen faces of fashion models that have obviously been told that anger sells. It pours out of the radio all day. Mumbai journalism hams snarl and shout at each other on television. Generations exchange sneers on TV and printed page. Ordinary people abuse leaders, administrators and the politicians with shockingly personal insults. Rudeness is a justifiable way of showing you can no longer control the fury within. Vile speech, justified on the same ground, is inescapable. 

India is angry at New Delhi, angry at the press, angry at immigrants, angry at television, angry at traffic, angry at people who are well off and angry at people who are poor, angry at the conservative and angry at the modern. 

The old are angry at the young, young angry at the old. Suburbs are angry at cities, cities are angry at suburbs, and rustic India is angry at both whenever urban and suburban intruders threaten the peaceful rustic sense of having escaped from God's Angry Land. 

Enough: A complete catalogue of the varieties of bile spoiling the Indian day would fill a library. The question is why. Why has anger become a reflexive response to the inevitable vagaries of national life?

 Living perpetually at the boiling point seems to leave the country depressed and pessimistic. Study those scowling models wearing the latest clothes in the Sunday papers and glossy magazines. Those are faces that expect only the IJ-worst. What a pity to waste such lovely new ill clothes on people so incapable of happiness. 

The popularity of anger is doubly puzzling, not only because the Indian habit even in the worst of times has traditionally been one of mindless optimism, but also because there is relatively little nowadays for the nation to be angry about. 

The country happily elected Prime Minister Nehru in 1947 because it believed his campaign boast about giving it peace and prosperity. The "peace," of course, was life under the endless threat of poverty and inequality, as viewed under Fabien Socialism. 

By contrast, the country now, at last, really does enjoy peace, and if the prosperity is not so solid as it was in the 1950s, Indian resources is still the world's vastest. So, with real peace and prosperity, what's to be furious about? 

The explanation, I suspect, is that the country got itself addicted to anger and can't shake the habit. It was hooked long ago when there was very good reason for anger. 

Massive, irritating and even scary expressions of it were vital in shaking an obdurate government, contemptuous of public opinion, from its determination to pursue policies damaging to the Indian fabric of living.

Massive, irritating and even scary expressions of anger-from Indians of all communities were needed for the triumph of democracy and the people's rights movement. 

These were monumental victories. If the nation had been unwilling to get mad to shout, "We're not going to take it anymore!" -they might not have been won. 

But what monumental struggle confronts us now? Giving a young citizen a stake in India is our most pressing problem, but nobody shouts much about that. Most other problems are so unmonumental that we might think the time is ripe for greatness: an era of civility conducive to good feeling among neighbours of all races and persuasions, a golden age of progress in learning and the arts and science. Is this making you angry? It's easy to imagine the cries of rage from a people habituated to crying rage: Are women not still oppressed by glass ceilings? Do members of the Backward Class no longer have to suffer the disrespect of the casteist world? Who dares talk of prosperity when the wealth is distributed so unfairly? 

True, all true. There is far too much poverty, casteist remains an affliction, and women still don't have economic equality with men. These present economists, philosophers and statesmen with exceedingly complex problems not amenable to solution by red-hot anger. 

Politically minded people concerned with these issues have always known that low-grade anger must be maintained, that political feet must be kept to the fire, that the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and so on. The high-intensity fury now seething through the land on these and a hundred other issues, however, doesn't seem focused on any social or economic goal. It's as though the nation got mad as hell a long time ago, got good results, and now can't shake the anger habit.

Anger has become the national habit. You see it on the sullen faces of fashion models that have obviously been told that anger sells. It pours out of the radio all day. Mumbai journalism hams snarl and shout at each other on television. Generations exchange sneers on TV and printed page. Ordinary people abuse leaders, administrators and the politicians with shockingly personal insults. Rudeness is a justifiable way of showing you can no longer control the fury within. Vile speech, justified on the same ground, is inescapable. 

India is angry at New Delhi, angry at the press, angry at immigrants, angry at television, angry at traffic, angry at people who are well off and angry at people who are poor, angry at the conservative and angry at the modern. 

The old are angry at the young, young angry at the old. Suburbs are angry at cities, cities are angry at suburbs, and rustic India is angry at both whenever urban and suburban intruders threaten the peaceful rustic sense of having escaped from God's Angry Land. 

Enough: A complete catalogue of the varieties of bile spoiling the Indian day would fill a library. The question is why. Why has anger become a reflexive response to the inevitable vagaries of national life?

 Living perpetually at the boiling point seems to leave the country depressed and pessimistic. Study those scowling models wearing the latest clothes in the Sunday papers and glossy magazines. Those are faces that expect only the IJ-worst. What a pity to waste such lovely new ill clothes on people so incapable of happiness. 

The popularity of anger is doubly puzzling, not only because the Indian habit even in the worst of times has traditionally been one of mindless optimism, but also because there is relatively little nowadays for the nation to be angry about. 

The country happily elected Prime Minister Nehru in 1947 because it believed his campaign boast about giving it peace and prosperity. The "peace," of course, was life under the endless threat of poverty and inequality, as viewed under Fabien Socialism. 

By contrast, the country now, at last, really does enjoy peace, and if the prosperity is not so solid as it was in the 1950s, Indian resources is still the world's vastest. So, with real peace and prosperity, what's to be furious about? 

The explanation, I suspect, is that the country got itself addicted to anger and can't shake the habit. It was hooked long ago when there was very good reason for anger. 

Massive, irritating and even scary expressions of it were vital in shaking an obdurate government, contemptuous of public opinion, from its determination to pursue policies damaging to the Indian fabric of living.

Massive, irritating and even scary expressions of anger-from Indians of all communities were needed for the triumph of democracy and the people's rights movement. 

These were monumental victories. If the nation had been unwilling to get mad to shout, "We're not going to take it anymore!" -they might not have been won. 

But what monumental struggle confronts us now? Giving a young citizen a stake in India is our most pressing problem, but nobody shouts much about that. Most other problems are so unmonumental that we might think the time is ripe for greatness: an era of civility conducive to good feeling among neighbours of all races and persuasions, a golden age of progress in learning and the arts and science. Is this making you angry? It's easy to imagine the cries of rage from a people habituated to crying rage: Are women not still oppressed by glass ceilings? Do members of the Backward Class no longer have to suffer the disrespect of the casteist world? Who dares talk of prosperity when the wealth is distributed so unfairly? 

True, all true. There is far too much poverty, casteist remains an affliction, and women still don't have economic equality with men. These present economists, philosophers and statesmen with exceedingly complex problems not amenable to solution by red-hot anger. 

Politically minded people concerned with these issues have always known that low-grade anger must be maintained, that political feet must be kept to the fire, that the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and so on. The high-intensity fury now seething through the land on these and a hundred other issues, however, doesn't seem focused on any social or economic goal. It's as though the nation got mad as hell a long time ago, got good results, and now can't shake the anger habit.

Anger has become the national habit. You see it on the sullen faces of fashion models that have obviously been told that anger sells. It pours out of the radio all day. Mumbai journalism hams snarl and shout at each other on television. Generations exchange sneers on TV and printed page. Ordinary people abuse leaders, administrators and the politicians with shockingly personal insults. Rudeness is a justifiable way of showing you can no longer control the fury within. Vile speech, justified on the same ground, is inescapable. 

India is angry at New Delhi, angry at the press, angry at immigrants, angry at television, angry at traffic, angry at people who are well off and angry at people who are poor, angry at the conservative and angry at the modern. 

The old are angry at the young, young angry at the old. Suburbs are angry at cities, cities are angry at suburbs, and rustic India is angry at both whenever urban and suburban intruders threaten the peaceful rustic sense of having escaped from God's Angry Land. 

Enough: A complete catalogue of the varieties of bile spoiling the Indian day would fill a library. The question is why. Why has anger become a reflexive response to the inevitable vagaries of national life?

 Living perpetually at the boiling point seems to leave the country depressed and pessimistic. Study those scowling models wearing the latest clothes in the Sunday papers and glossy magazines. Those are faces that expect only the IJ-worst. What a pity to waste such lovely new ill clothes on people so incapable of happiness. 

The popularity of anger is doubly puzzling, not only because the Indian habit even in the worst of times has traditionally been one of mindless optimism, but also because there is relatively little nowadays for the nation to be angry about. 

The country happily elected Prime Minister Nehru in 1947 because it believed his campaign boast about giving it peace and prosperity. The "peace," of course, was life under the endless threat of poverty and inequality, as viewed under Fabien Socialism. 

By contrast, the country now, at last, really does enjoy peace, and if the prosperity is not so solid as it was in the 1950s, Indian resources is still the world's vastest. So, with real peace and prosperity, what's to be furious about? 

The explanation, I suspect, is that the country got itself addicted to anger and can't shake the habit. It was hooked long ago when there was very good reason for anger. 

Massive, irritating and even scary expressions of it were vital in shaking an obdurate government, contemptuous of public opinion, from its determination to pursue policies damaging to the Indian fabric of living.

Massive, irritating and even scary expressions of anger-from Indians of all communities were needed for the triumph of democracy and the people's rights movement. 

These were monumental victories. If the nation had been unwilling to get mad to shout, "We're not going to take it anymore!" -they might not have been won. 

But what monumental struggle confronts us now? Giving a young citizen a stake in India is our most pressing problem, but nobody shouts much about that. Most other problems are so unmonumental that we might think the time is ripe for greatness: an era of civility conducive to good feeling among neighbours of all races and persuasions, a golden age of progress in learning and the arts and science. Is this making you angry? It's easy to imagine the cries of rage from a people habituated to crying rage: Are women not still oppressed by glass ceilings? Do members of the Backward Class no longer have to suffer the disrespect of the casteist world? Who dares talk of prosperity when the wealth is distributed so unfairly? 

True, all true. There is far too much poverty, casteist remains an affliction, and women still don't have economic equality with men. These present economists, philosophers and statesmen with exceedingly complex problems not amenable to solution by red-hot anger. 

Politically minded people concerned with these issues have always known that low-grade anger must be maintained, that political feet must be kept to the fire, that the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and so on. The high-intensity fury now seething through the land on these and a hundred other issues, however, doesn't seem focused on any social or economic goal. It's as though the nation got mad as hell a long time ago, got good results, and now can't shake the anger habit.

Anger has become the national habit. You see it on the sullen faces of fashion models that have obviously been told that anger sells. It pours out of the radio all day. Mumbai journalism hams snarl and shout at each other on television. Generations exchange sneers on TV and printed page. Ordinary people abuse leaders, administrators and the politicians with shockingly personal insults. Rudeness is a justifiable way of showing you can no longer control the fury within. Vile speech, justified on the same ground, is inescapable. 

India is angry at New Delhi, angry at the press, angry at immigrants, angry at television, angry at traffic, angry at people who are well off and angry at people who are poor, angry at the conservative and angry at the modern. 

The old are angry at the young, young angry at the old. Suburbs are angry at cities, cities are angry at suburbs, and rustic India is angry at both whenever urban and suburban intruders threaten the peaceful rustic sense of having escaped from God's Angry Land. 

Enough: A complete catalogue of the varieties of bile spoiling the Indian day would fill a library. The question is why. Why has anger become a reflexive response to the inevitable vagaries of national life?

 Living perpetually at the boiling point seems to leave the country depressed and pessimistic. Study those scowling models wearing the latest clothes in the Sunday papers and glossy magazines. Those are faces that expect only the IJ-worst. What a pity to waste such lovely new ill clothes on people so incapable of happiness. 

The popularity of anger is doubly puzzling, not only because the Indian habit even in the worst of times has traditionally been one of mindless optimism, but also because there is relatively little nowadays for the nation to be angry about. 

The country happily elected Prime Minister Nehru in 1947 because it believed his campaign boast about giving it peace and prosperity. The "peace," of course, was life under the endless threat of poverty and inequality, as viewed under Fabien Socialism. 

By contrast, the country now, at last, really does enjoy peace, and if the prosperity is not so solid as it was in the 1950s, Indian resources is still the world's vastest. So, with real peace and prosperity, what's to be furious about? 

The explanation, I suspect, is that the country got itself addicted to anger and can't shake the habit. It was hooked long ago when there was very good reason for anger. 

Massive, irritating and even scary expressions of it were vital in shaking an obdurate government, contemptuous of public opinion, from its determination to pursue policies damaging to the Indian fabric of living.

Massive, irritating and even scary expressions of anger-from Indians of all communities were needed for the triumph of democracy and the people's rights movement. 

These were monumental victories. If the nation had been unwilling to get mad to shout, "We're not going to take it anymore!" -they might not have been won. 

But what monumental struggle confronts us now? Giving a young citizen a stake in India is our most pressing problem, but nobody shouts much about that. Most other problems are so unmonumental that we might think the time is ripe for greatness: an era of civility conducive to good feeling among neighbours of all races and persuasions, a golden age of progress in learning and the arts and science. Is this making you angry? It's easy to imagine the cries of rage from a people habituated to crying rage: Are women not still oppressed by glass ceilings? Do members of the Backward Class no longer have to suffer the disrespect of the casteist world? Who dares talk of prosperity when the wealth is distributed so unfairly? 

True, all true. There is far too much poverty, casteist remains an affliction, and women still don't have economic equality with men. These present economists, philosophers and statesmen with exceedingly complex problems not amenable to solution by red-hot anger. 

Politically minded people concerned with these issues have always known that low-grade anger must be maintained, that political feet must be kept to the fire, that the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and so on. The high-intensity fury now seething through the land on these and a hundred other issues, however, doesn't seem focused on any social or economic goal. It's as though the nation got mad as hell a long time ago, got good results, and now can't shake the anger habit.

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