The Third and Final Continent Summary Class 11 Short Stories Chapter 6, Explanation, Word Meanings

 

The Third and Final Continent Summary and Explanation

CBSE Class 11 English (Elective)  Short Stories Chapter 6- The Third and Final Continent Summary, Explanation along with Difficult Word Meanings from Woven Words Book 

 

The Third and Final Continent Summary  – Are you looking for the summary, theme and lesson explanation for CBSE 11 English (Elective) Short Stories Chapter 6 – The Third and Final Continent from English Woven Words Book . Get The Third and Final Continent Lesson summary, theme, explanation along with difficult word meanings

 

CBSE Class 11 English (Elective) Short Stories Chapter 6 – The Third and Final Continent

by Jhumpa Lahiri

 

The Third and Final Continent is a story by Jhumpa Lahiri. It follows an unnamed Indian man who moves from India to London and then to Boston, USA. He travels to America after getting a job at MIT. He married Mala in India but arrived in Boston alone while she waited for her green card. He rents a room from Mrs. Croft, an elderly widow. The narrator adjusts to his new life in America, deals with cultural differences, and finds a sense of belonging.

 

• The Third and Final Continent Summary
• The Third and Final Continent Summary in Hindi
• The Third and Final Continent Theme
• The Third and Final Continent Explanation

 

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• The Third and Final Continent Question Answers
• The Third and Final Continent Character Sketch

The Third and Final Continent Summary 

The Third and Final Continent narrates the journey of a young Bengali man from a life of shared poverty and bachelorhood in London to an arranged marriage and a new job in America, specifically Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1969. The story intricately explores his initial feelings of displacement, his evolving relationship with an eccentric elderly landlady, Mrs. Croft, and his eventual, somewhat detached, acceptance of his arranged marriage and new life.

The narrator leaves India in 1964 with minimal possessions and travels by cargo ship to London. There, he joins a community of other Bengali bachelors in Finsbury Park, all striving for education and a better future. They live frugally, sharing cramped rooms and basic necessities, their lives revolving around work, studies at the LSE, and occasional cultural connections like cricket matches and gatherings with other Bengalis. 

The prospect of arranged marriages eventually leads some of his housemates to leave. In 1969, at the age of thirty-six, the narrator’s own marriage was arranged, coinciding with a job offer at MIT in America.

He travels to Calcutta for his wedding and then flies to Boston. During the flight, he reads a guidebook about North America, learning about cultural differences like driving on the right and the American vocabulary. 

The news of the moon landing and President Nixon declaring a national holiday marks his arrival, a significant historical event that initially doesn’t resonate deeply with him.

His first night in America was spent at a noisy YMCA in Cambridge. The constant sounds of traffic and sirens are overwhelming, a stark contrast to the communal but quieter life in London. He starts his job at the Dewey Library at MIT and begins the mundane tasks of setting up a basic life: opening a bank account, renting a post office box, and buying simple necessities like a plastic bowl and cornflakes, his initial preferred American meal. He gradually adjusts to some American customs, like buying milk in cartons and using a “thermos” instead of a “flask,” but the persistent noise and loneliness remain.

Seeking a quieter living situation, he finds a room for rent in the house of Mrs. Croft, an extremely old and peculiar woman. Their initial interaction is marked by her demanding nature, her insistence on him locking the door securely, and her repetitive pronouncements about the American flag on the moon being “splendid.” Mrs. Croft is physically frail but possesses a surprisingly strong voice and a rigid set of old-fashioned social rules.

The narrator establishes a routine with Mrs. Croft. Every evening, she sits on her piano bench, asks if he locked the door, declares the moon landing “splendid,” and then falls asleep. He pays his rent weekly, placing the money in her hand as she rarely moves. He learns from Mrs. Croft’s daughter, Helen, who visits weekly, that Mrs. Croft is over a hundred years old and survives solely on canned soup. Helen also reveals the piano playing was how Mrs. Croft raised her family after her husband’s death, and that her hands are now affected by it.

The narrator reflects on his own mother’s descent into mental illness after his father’s death, highlighting the vulnerability of elderly women living alone. He feels a sense of responsibility towards Mrs. Croft, offering small gestures of kindness like ensuring she’s safe. Despite their awkward interactions, a quiet understanding develops between them.

Meanwhile, the narrator receives a brief letter from his wife, Mala, expressing her loneliness and asking about the weather in America. He feels a detached sense of obligation towards her, viewing her arrival as an inevitable event rather than a deeply desired reunion. He recalls their brief time together after the wedding, a period marked by her sadness and his anticipation of his new life.

As Mala’s arrival date approaches, the narrator finds a furnished apartment for them. On his last Friday at Mrs. Croft’s, he pays his rent and informs her he is moving. Her only request is for him to hand her the cane so she can lock the door behind him. He is slightly disappointed by her lack of emotion, despite acknowledging their brief and transactional relationship.

At the airport, he recognizes Mala, who now wears her sari draped over her head in a sign of modesty. He observes an incident where an American woman’s dog snags an Indian woman’s sari, realizing that such cultural misunderstandings and the responsibility of guiding Mala through this new world will now be his concern. He, unlike Mala, has grown accustomed to his new surroundings and routines. The story ends with his anticipation of their shared future, a future built on an arranged marriage and a life in a new continent, a stark contrast to the worlds they have both left behind. 

The title, “The Third and Final Continent,” likely refers to the narrator’s journey through three continents (Asia, Europe, North America) and his feeling of being an outsider in each, forever navigating a sense of displacement.
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Summary of the Lesson Third and Final Continent in Hindi

 

“तीसरा और अंतिम महाद्वीप” में एक युवा बंगाली व्यक्ति की लंदन में साझा गरीबी और कुंवारेपन के जीवन से 1969 में अमेरिका, विशेष रूप से कैम्ब्रिज, मैसाचुसेट्स में एक अरेंज मैरिज और एक नई नौकरी तक की यात्रा का वर्णन किया गया है। कहानी बारीकी से विस्थापन की उनकी प्रारंभिक भावनाओं, एक सनकी बुजुर्ग मकान मालकिन, श्रीमती क्रॉफ्ट के साथ उनके विकसित होने वाले संबंधों और उनकी अंतिम, कुछ हद तक अलग, उनकी अरेंज मैरिज और नए जीवन की स्वीकृति की पड़ताल करती है। 

कथाकार 1964 में न्यूनतम संपत्ति के साथ भारत छोड़ देता है और मालवाहक जहाज से लंदन की यात्रा करता है। वहाँ, वह फिन्सबरी पार्क में अन्य बंगाली अविवाहितों के एक समुदाय में शामिल हो जाता है, जो सभी शिक्षा और बेहतर भविष्य के लिए प्रयास कर रहे हैं। वे किफायती तरीके से रहते हैं, तंग कमरों और बुनियादी आवश्यकताओं को साझा करते हैं, उनका जीवन काम के इर्द-गिर्द घूमता है, एल. एस. ई. में पढ़ाई, और कभी-कभी क्रिकेट मैचों और अन्य बंगालियों के साथ सभाओं जैसे सांस्कृतिक संबंध। अरेंज मैरिज की संभावना अंततः उसके घर के कुछ सदस्यों को जाने के लिए प्रेरित करती है। 1969 में, छत्तीस साल की उम्र में, अमेरिका में एम. आई. टी. में नौकरी के प्रस्ताव के साथ कथाकार की अपनी शादी की व्यवस्था की गई। 

वह अपनी शादी के लिए कलकत्ता जाता है और फिर बोस्टन के लिए उड़ान भरता है। उड़ान के दौरान, वह उत्तरी अमेरिका के बारे में एक गाइडबुक पढ़ता है, जिसमें वह दाईं ओर गाड़ी चलाने और अमेरिकी शब्दावली जैसे सांस्कृतिक अंतरों के बारे में सीखता है। चंद्रमा पर उतरने और राष्ट्रपति निक्सन द्वारा राष्ट्रीय अवकाश घोषित करने की खबर उनके आगमन को चिह्नित करती है, एक महत्वपूर्ण ऐतिहासिक घटना जो शुरू में उनके साथ गहराई से प्रतिध्वनित नहीं होती है। 

अमेरिका में उनकी पहली रात कैम्ब्रिज में एक शोर-शराबे वाले वाई. एम. सी. ए. में बिताई गई। यातायात और सायरन की निरंतर आवाज़ें भारी हैं, जो लंदन में सांप्रदायिक लेकिन शांत जीवन के बिल्कुल विपरीत हैं। वह एम. आई. टी. में डेवी पुस्तकालय में अपनी नौकरी शुरू करते हैं और एक बुनियादी जीवन स्थापित करने के सांसारिक कार्यों को शुरू करते हैंः एक बैंक खाता खोलना, एक डाकघर का डिब्बा किराए पर लेना, और प्लास्टिक का कटोरा और कॉर्नफ्लेक्स जैसी साधारण आवश्यकताएँ खरीदना, जो उनका पहला पसंदीदा अमेरिकी भोजन है। वह धीरे-धीरे कुछ अमेरिकी रीति-रिवाजों के अनुकूल हो जाता है, जैसे डिब्बों में दूध खरीदना और “फ्लास्क” के बजाय “थर्मॉस” का उपयोग करना, लेकिन लगातार शोर और अकेलापन बना रहता है। 

एक शांत जीवन की स्थिति की तलाश में, उसे श्रीमती क्रॉफ्ट के घर में किराए पर एक कमरा मिलता है, जो एक बेहद बूढ़ी और अजीब औरत है। उनकी प्रारंभिक बातचीत उनके मांग करने वाले स्वभाव से चिह्नित होती है, उन पर दरवाजा सुरक्षित रूप से बंद करने का उनका आग्रह, और चंद्रमा पर अमेरिकी ध्वज के बारे में उनकी दोहराए जाने वाली घोषणाएं “शानदार” हैं। श्रीमती क्रॉफ्ट शारीरिक रूप से कमजोर हैं लेकिन उनके पास आश्चर्यजनक रूप से मजबूत आवाज और पुराने जमाने के सामाजिक नियमों का एक कठोर समूह है। 

कथाकार श्रीमती क्रॉफ्ट के साथ एक दिनचर्या स्थापित करता है। हर शाम, वह अपनी पियानो बेंच पर बैठती है, पूछती है कि क्या उसने दरवाजा बंद कर दिया है, चंद्रमा पर उतरने को “शानदार” घोषित करती है, और फिर सो जाती है। वह अपना किराया साप्ताहिक रूप से देता है, पैसे उसके हाथ में रखता है क्योंकि वह शायद ही कभी चलती है। उसे श्रीमती क्रॉफ्ट की बेटी हेलेन से पता चलता है, जो साप्ताहिक रूप से आती है, कि श्रीमती क्रॉफ्ट की उम्र सौ साल से अधिक है और वह पूरी तरह से डिब्बाबंद सूप पर जीवित रहती है। हेलेन ने यह भी खुलासा किया कि पियानो बजाने से श्रीमती क्रॉफ्ट ने अपने पति की मृत्यु के बाद अपने परिवार का पालन-पोषण किया और अब उनके हाथ इससे प्रभावित हैं। 

कथाकार अपने पिता की मृत्यु के बाद अपनी माँ के मानसिक बीमारी में उतरने पर प्रतिबिंबित करता है, जो अकेले रहने वाली बुजुर्ग महिलाओं की भेद्यता को उजागर करता है। वह श्रीमती क्रॉफ्ट के प्रति जिम्मेदारी की भावना महसूस करता है, दयालुता के छोटे-छोटे इशारे पेश करता है जैसे कि यह सुनिश्चित करना कि वह सुरक्षित है। उनकी अजीब बातचीत के बावजूद, उनके बीच एक शांत समझ विकसित होती है।

इस बीच, कथाकार को अपनी पत्नी माला से एक संक्षिप्त पत्र मिलता है, जिसमें वह अपने अकेलेपन को व्यक्त करती है और अमेरिका के मौसम के बारे में पूछती है। वह उसके प्रति दायित्व की एक अलग भावना महसूस करता है, उसके आगमन को एक गहरी वांछित पुनर्मिलन के बजाय एक अपरिहार्य घटना के रूप में देखता है। वह शादी के बाद उनके साथ बिताए संक्षिप्त समय को याद करते हैं, एक ऐसा समय जो उनकी उदासी और उनके नए जीवन की प्रत्याशा से चिह्नित था। 

जैसे-जैसे माला के आने की तारीख नजदीक आती है, कथाकार को उनके लिए एक सुसज्जित अपार्टमेंट मिल जाता है। श्रीमती क्रॉफ्ट्स में अपने अंतिम शुक्रवार को, वह अपना किराया देता है और उसे सूचित करता है कि वह जा रहा है। उसका एकमात्र अनुरोध है कि वह उसे बेंत दे ताकि वह उसके पीछे दरवाजा बंद कर सके। उनके संक्षिप्त और लेन-देन संबंधी संबंधों को स्वीकार करने के बावजूद, वह उसकी भावना की कमी से थोड़ा निराश है। हवाई अड्डे पर, वह माला को पहचानता है, जो अब विनम्रता के संकेत में अपने सिर पर लिपटे हुए साड़ी पहनती है। वह एक घटना को देखता है जहाँ एक अमेरिकी महिला का कुत्ता एक भारतीय महिला की साड़ी छीन लेता है, यह महसूस करते हुए कि इस तरह की सांस्कृतिक गलतफहमी और इस नई दुनिया में माला का मार्गदर्शन करने की जिम्मेदारी अब उसकी चिंता होगी। वह माला के विपरीत अपने नए परिवेश और दिनचर्या के आदी हो गए हैं। कहानी उनके साझा भविष्य की प्रत्याशा के साथ समाप्त होती है, एक अरेंज मैरिज और एक नए महाद्वीप में जीवन पर निर्मित भविष्य, उन दुनिया के बिल्कुल विपरीत जो वे दोनों पीछे छोड़ गए हैं।

शीर्षक, “तीसरा और अंतिम महाद्वीप”, संभवतः तीन महाद्वीपों (एशिया, यूरोप, उत्तरी अमेरिका) के माध्यम से कथाकार की यात्रा और प्रत्येक में एक बाहरी व्यक्ति होने की उनकी भावना को संदर्भित करता है, जो हमेशा के लिए विस्थापन की भावना को नेविगेट करता है। 
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Theme of the Lesson The Third and Final Continent

 

Immigration and Cultural Adaptation  

The story tells about the challenges and successes of moving to a new country. The narrator’s journey from India to England and then to America shows the difficulties of adjusting to new customs, social norms, and environments. He struggles with feeling like an outsider, learning everything from how to eat cornflakes to navigating American social situations. His wife, Mala, also faces similar challenges, highlighting the shared experiences of immigrants adapting to a new culture.

Isolation and Connection

The story examines the isolation often faced by immigrants. At first, the narrator feels alone in both London and Boston. His arranged marriage adds to this feeling of disconnection. As the story goes on, he builds connections with Mrs. Croft and, more importantly, with Mala. These relationships help him feel less lonely and create a sense of belonging.

The Passage of Time and the Resilience of the Human Spirit

Mrs. Croft represents the passage of time and the strength of the human spirit. Her old age and the narrator’s thoughts about the changes she has seen remind us that time keeps moving forward. Despite her challenges, Mrs. Croft shows great independence and strength. Similarly, the narrator’s journey and success in America highlight his resilience and ability to adapt in tough situations.
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The Third and Final Continent Lesson Explanation 

 

Passage: I left India in 1964 with a certificate in commerce and the equivalent, in those days, of ten dollars to my name. For three weeks I sailed on the SS Roma, an Italian cargo vessel, in a third-class cabin next to the ship’s engine, across the Arabian Sea, the Red Sea, the Mediterranean and, finally, to England. I lived in north London, in Finsbury Park, in a house occupied entirely by penniless Bengali bachelors like myself, at least a dozen and sometimes more, all struggling to educate and establish ourselves abroad.
I attended lectures at the LSE and worked at the university library to get by. We lived three or four to a room, shared a single, icy toilet, and took turns cooking pots of egg curry, which we ate with our hands on a table covered with newspapers. Apart from our jobs we had few responsibilities. On weekends we lounged barefoot in drawstring pyjamas, drinking tea and smoking Rothmans, or set out to watch cricket at Lord’s. Some weekends the house was crammed with still more Bengalis to whom we had introduced ourselves at the greengrocer or on the Tube, and we made yet more egg curry, and played Mukesh on a Grundig reel-to-reel, and soaked our dirty dishes in the bathtub. Every now and then someone in the house moved out to live with a woman whom his family back in Calcutta had determined he was to wed. In 1969, when I was thirty six years old, my own marriage was arranged. Around the same time, I was offered a full-time job in America, in the processing department of a library at MIT. The salary was generous enough to support a wife, and I was honoured to be hired by a world-famous university, and so I obtained a sixth-preference green card and prepared to travel farther still. 

Word meanings
LSE: This is an abbreviation for the London School of Economics and Political Science, a prestigious public research university located in London, England.
Lounged: To sit, lie, or stand in a relaxed or lazy way.
Drawstring: A string, cord, or tape inserted through a hem or casing and pulled tight to close to gather material.
Set out: To begin a journey or course of action.
Crammed: To compress or pack something tightly into a limited space.
Grundig reel-to-reel: Grundig was a German manufacturer of electronics. A reel-to-reel was a type of magnetic tape audio recorder where the recording tape is held on reels that are wound onto spools during playback or recording.
Moved out: To leave a place of residence.

Explanation of the above passage—The narrator left India in 1964. He had a certificate in commerce and about ten dollars then. For three weeks, he traveled by ship, the SS Roma. It was an Italian cargo ship. He stayed in a cheap room by the engine. The ship went over the Arabian Sea, the Red Sea, the Mediterranean Sea, and then to England. He lived in north London, in Finsbury Park. The house had only Bengali men with no money, like him. There were at least twelve men, sometimes more. They were all trying hard to study and settle abroad.

He went to classes at the LSE and worked at the university library to earn money. They lived with three or four men in one room. They shared one very cold toilet. They took turns making egg curry and ate it with their hands at a table covered with newspapers. Besides their jobs, they did not have other tasks. On weekends, they relaxed without shoes in loose pants, drinking tea and smoking Rothmans. Sometimes, they went to watch cricket at Lord’s stadium. Some weekends, the house had even more Bengali people than normal days. They had met them at the grocery store or on the subway. They made more egg curry, played the songs of the popular singer Mukesh on a tape player, and washed their dirty dishes in the bathtub as the kitchen sink wasn’t large enough to handle the volume of dirty dishes. Moreover, soaking dishes makes it convenient for them to clean it later. Now and then, one of the men in the house moved out as he was going to live with a woman his family in Calcutta had chosen for him to marry. In 1969, when the narrator was thirty-six years old, his own marriage was planned. Around the same time, he got a full-time job in America. It was in the library at MIT, working with the books. The pay was enough for him to support his wife as well. He felt proud to be hired by a very famous university. So, he got a green card that allowed him to come to America and got ready to travel even farther away from London.

 

Passage: By now I had enough money to go by plane. I flew first to Calcutta, to attend my wedding, and a week later I flew first to Boston, to begin my new job. During the flight I read The Student Guide to North America, a paperback volume that I’d bought before leaving London, for seven shillings six pence on Tottenham Court Road for, although I was no longer a student, I was on a budget all the same. I learned that Americans drove on the right side of the road, not the left, and that they called a lift an elevator and an engaged phone busy. ‘The pace of life in North America is different from Britain as you will soon discover,’ the guidebook informed me. ‘Everybody feels he must get to the top. Don’t expect an English cup of tea.’ As the plane began its descent over Boston Harbour, the pilot announced the weather and time, and that President Nixon had declared a national holiday: two American men had landed on the moon. Several passengers cheered. ‘God bless America!’ one of them hollered. Across the aisle, I saw a woman praying. 

Word meanings
Paperback: A book bound in a flexible paper cover.
Descent over: A movement downwards has ended or is complete.
Hollered: Cried out loudly; shouted.
Aisle: A passage between rows of seats in a building such as a church or theater, or between shelves in a shop.

Explanation of the above passage—He now had enough money to travel by plane. He flew first to Calcutta. This was to get married. One week later, he flew first to Boston. This was to start his new job. While on the plane, he read a book. The book was called “The Student Guide to North America.” It was a small paper book. He had bought it before leaving London. It cost seven shillings and six pence. He was not a student anymore, but he still did not have much money and thus, had to read the book. He learned that Americans drove on the right side of the road, not the left. He also learned that they called a lift an elevator. If a phone was busy, they said it was engaged. The book told him, life moves at a different speed in North America than in Britain and he would soon see it. Everyone wants to reach the top. Do not expect tea like they serve in England. As the plane started to go down over Boston Harbour, the pilot announced the weather and the time. He also said that President Nixon had declared it a national holiday. Two American men had landed on the moon. Some people on the plane cheered. One of them shouted, “God bless America!” Across the way, he saw a woman praying.

 

Passage: I spent my first night at the YMCA in Central Square, Cambridge, an inexpensive accommodation recommended by my guidebook. It was walking distance from MIT, and steps away from the post office and a supermarket called Purity Supreme. The room contained a cot, a desk and a small wooden cross on one wall. A sign on the door said cooking was strictly forbidden. A bare window overlooked Massachusetts Avenue, a major thoroughfare with traffic in both directions. Car horns, shrill and prolonged, blared one after another. Flashing sirens heralded endless emergencies and a fleet of buses rumbled past, their doors opening and closing with a powerful hiss, throughout the night. The noise was constantly distracting, at times suffocating. I felt it deep in my ribs, just as I had felt the furious drone of the engine on the SS Roma. But there was no ship’s deck to escape to, no glittering ocean to thrill my soul, no breeze to cool my face, no one to talk to. I was too tired to pace the gloomy corridors of the YMCA in my drawstring pyjamas. Instead I sat at the desk and stared out the window, at the city hall of Cambridge and a row of small shops. In the morning I reported to my job at the Dewey Library, a beige fortlike building by Memorial Drive. I also opened a bank account, rented a post office box, and bought a plastic bowl and a spoon at Woolworth’s, a store whose name I recognised from London. I went to Purity Supreme, wandering up and down the aisles, converting ounces to grams and comparing prices to things in England. In the end I bought a small carton of milk and a box of cornflakes. This was my first meal in America. I ate it at my desk. I preferred it to hamburgers or hot dogs, the only alternative I could afford in the coffee shops on Massachusetts Avenue, and, besides, at the time I had yet to consume any beef. Even the simple chore of buying milk was new to me; in London we’d had bottles delivered each morning to our door.

Word meanings
Cot: A small bed with high sides for a baby or very young child; a crib. It can also refer to a simple, lightweight bed.
Bare: Not clothed or covered; naked. Also, empty or plain.
Overlooked: Failed to notice or consider something. Also, having a view from above.
Thoroughfare: A main road through a town or city, allowing the free movement of traffic.
Shrill: High-pitched and piercing in sound.
Prolonged: Continuing for a long time or longer than usual; extended.
Blared: Made a loud, harsh, piercing noise.
Flashing sirens: Bright, intermittent warning lights and a loud, wailing sound produced by emergency vehicles.
Heralded: Signaled the coming of; announced.
Rumbled past: Made a deep, resonant sound while moving by.
Felt it deep in my ribs: Experienced a strong physical sensation, often vibration or a deep emotional feeling.
Furious drone: A continuous humming or buzzing sound that suggests anger or intensity.
Glittering: Shining with a bright, shimmering light.
Fortlike: Resembling a fort, often suggesting something sturdy, secure, or imposing.

Explanation of the above passage—He spent his first night at the YMCA. It was in Central Square, Cambridge. It was a cheap place to stay. His book had told him about it. It was close enough to walk to MIT. It was also very near the post office and a supermarket named Purity Supreme. The room had a small bed, a table, and a small wooden cross on one wall. A sign on the door said that cooking was not allowed at all. A plain window looked out onto Massachusetts Avenue. This was a big road with cars going both ways. Car horns made loud, long sounds, one after another. Bright lights and sirens showed that there were always emergencies. Many buses drove by, their doors opening and closing with a strong hiss, all through the night. The noise kept bothering him. Sometimes, it felt like it was too much. He felt it deep inside him, like he had felt the loud noise of the engine on the SS Roma. But there was no deck of a ship to go to. There was no shiny ocean to make him happy. There was no breeze to cool his face. There was no one to talk to. He was too tired to walk around the sad hallways of the YMCA in his loose pants. Instead, he sat at the table and looked out the window. He saw the city hall of Cambridge and some small shops. In the morning, he went to his job at the Dewey Library. It was a beige building that looked like a fort, by Memorial Drive. He also opened a bank account. He rented a mailbox at the post office. He bought a plastic bowl and a spoon at Woolworth’s. He knew this store from London. He went to Purity Supreme. He walked up and down the aisles. He changed ounces to grams in his mind. He compared the prices to things in England. In the end, he bought a small box of milk and a box of cornflakes. This was his first meal in America. He ate it at his table. He liked it better than hamburgers or hot dogs. Those were the only cheap foods at the coffee shops on Massachusetts Avenue. Also, he had not eaten any beef yet. Even buying milk was new to him. In London, they had bottles of milk delivered to their door every morning.

 

Passage: In a week I had adjusted, more or less. I ate cornflakes and milk, morning and night, and bought some bananas for variety, slicing them into the bowl with the edge of my spoon. In addition I bought tea bags and a flask, which the salesman in Woolworth’s referred to as a thermos (a flask, he informed me, was used to store whiskey, another thing I had never consumed). For the price of one cup of tea at a coffee shop, I filled the flask with boiling water on my way to work each morning, and brewed the four cups I drank in the course of a day. I bought a larger carton of milk, and learned to leave it on the shaded part of the windowsill, as I had seen another resident at the YMCA do. To pass the time in the evenings I read the Boston Globe downstairs, in a spacious room with stained glass windows. I read every article and advertisement so that I would grow familiar with things and, when my eyes grew tired, I slept. Only I did not sleep well. Each night I had to keep the window wide open; it was the only source of air in the stifling room, and the noise was intolerable. I would lie on the cot with my fingers pressed into my ears but when I drifted off to sleep, my hands fell away and the noise of the traffic would wake me up again. Pigeon feathers drifted onto the windowsill and, one evening, when I poured milk over my cornflakes, I saw that it had soured. Nevertheless I resolved to stay at the YMCA for six weeks, until my wife’s passport and green card were ready. Once she arrived I would have to rent a proper apartment and so, from time to time, I studied the classified section of the newspaper, or stopped in at the housing office at MIT during my lunch-break, to see what was available in my price range. It was in this manner that I discovered a room, for immediate occupancy, in a house on a quiet street, the listing said, for eight dollars per week. I copied the number into my guidebook and dialled from a pay telephone, sorting through the coins with which I was still unfamiliar, smaller and lighter than shillings, heavier and brighter than paisas. 

Word meanings
Thermos: A vacuum flask that keeps liquids hot or cold for many hours.
Windowsill: A shelf below a window, either inside or outside a building.
Stifling: Oppressively hot and lacking in fresh air; suffocating.
Drifted onto: Was carried slowly by air or water and ended up on a particular surface or place.
Drifted off: Gradually fell asleep.
Classified: Arranged in categories according to shared qualities or characteristics. Also, officially designated as secret.
Occupancy: The state of being occupied; the fact of residing or being present in a place.

Explanation of the above passage—After one week, he had mostly gotten used to things. He ate cornflakes and milk in the morning and at night. He bought some bananas to have something different. He cut them into his bowl with the side of his spoon. He also bought tea bags and a flask. The person who sold it at Woolworth’s called it a thermos. The person had told him that a flask was used to hold whiskey, which he had never drunk. For the cost of one cup of tea at a coffee shop, he filled his flask with hot water on his way to work each morning. He made the four cups of tea he drank during the day. He bought a bigger box of milk. He learned to put it on the shady part of the window sill perhaps to prevent it from getting spoilt. He had seen another person living at the YMCA do that. To spend his free time in the evenings, he read the Boston Globe downstairs. It was in a large room with windows made of colored glass. He read every story and advertisement. He wanted to learn about things. When his eyes got tired, he slept. But he did not sleep well. Every night, he had to keep the window wide open. It was the only way to get air in the stuffy room. The noise was too much to bear. He would lie on the small bed with his fingers pressed into his ears. But when he started to fall asleep, his hands would drop. The sound of the traffic would wake him up again. Bird feathers floated onto the window sill. One evening, when he poured milk on his cornflakes, he saw that it had gone bad. Even so, he decided to stay at the YMCA for six weeks. This was until his wife’s passport and permission to live in America were ready. Once she came, he would need to rent a real apartment. So, now and then, he looked at the small ads in the newspaper or he would stop by the housing office at MIT during his lunch break. He wanted to see what was available for the amount of money he could pay. That is how he found a room. It was available right away. It was in a house on a quiet street. The ad said it cost eight dollars each week. He wrote down the number in his book. He called from a public phone. He tried to find the right coins. He was still not used to them. They were smaller and lighter than shillings (currency of Britain), but heavier and brighter than paisas (currency of India).

 

Passage: ‘Who is speaking?’ a woman demanded. Her voice was bold and clamorous.
‘Yes, good afternoon, madame. I am calling about the room, for rent.’
‘Harvard or Tech?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Are you from Harvard or Tech?’
Gathering that Tech referred to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, I replied, ‘I work at Dewey Library’, adding tentatively, ‘at Tech’.

Word meanings
Clamorous: Making a loud and confused noise.
Tentatively: In a hesitant or uncertain manner.

Explanation of the above passage—A woman asked who was speaking. Her voice was loud and strong. He said yes, good afternoon, and that he was calling about the room that was for rent. She asked if he was from Harvard or Tech. He asked her to say that again. She asked again if he was from Harvard or Tech. He figured out that Tech meant the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He replied that he worked at Dewey Library. He added carefully that it was at Tech.

 

Passage: I was given an address and an appointment for seven o’clock that evening. Thirty minutes before the hour I set out, my guidebook in my pocket, my breath fresh with Listerine. I turned down a street shaded with trees, perpendicular to Massachusetts Avenue. Stray blades of grass poked between the cracks of the footpath. In spite of the heat I wore a coat and a tie, regarding the event as I would any other interview; I had never lived in the home of a person who was not Indian. The house, surrounded by a chain-link fence, was off-white with dark brown trim. Unlike the stucco row house I’d lived in, in London, this house, fully detached, was covered with wooded shingles, with a tangle of forsythia bushes plastered against the front and sides. When I pressed the calling bell, the woman with whom I had spoken on the phone hollered from what seemed to be just the other side of the door, ‘One minute please!’ 

Word meanings
Listerine: A brand name for a commercially available antiseptic mouthwash.
Perpendicular: At an angle of 90° to a given line, plane, or surface; perfectly upright or vertical.
Stray blades of grass: Individual, isolated pieces of grass that are growing out of place or are separated from a larger patch.
Poked: Thrust or jabbed something quickly and sharply.
Chain-link fence: A type of fence made of woven wires forming a mesh of diamond shapes.
Trim: To make something neat and tidy by cutting away irregular or unwanted parts.
Stucco row house: One of a series of similar houses joined together in a row, with an exterior wall covered in stucco (a type of plaster).
Shingles: Small, flat, rectangular pieces of wood, asphalt, or other material used to cover a roof or walls.
Tangle of forsythia bushes: A dense, disorganized mass of forsythia bushes, known for their bright yellow spring flowers.

Explanation of the above passage—He was given a place and a time to meet. It was seven o’clock that evening. Thirty minutes before that time, he left. He had his book in his pocket. His breath smelled fresh from Listerine. He turned onto a street with trees that gave shade. It was at a right angle to Massachusetts Avenue. Some single pieces of grass grew between the cracks in the sidewalk. Even though it was hot, he wore a coat and a tie. He thought of this like any other meeting for a job. He had never lived in the house of someone who was not from India. The house had a fence made of connected wires around it. It was a light white color with dark brown edges. It was different from the connected houses with rough plaster he had lived in London. This house stood alone. It was covered with wooden tiles. There were many forsythia bushes growing thickly against the front and sides. When he pushed the doorbell, the woman he had talked to on the phone shouted from very close to the door, asking him to wait one minute.

 

Passage: Several minutes later the door was opened by a tiny, extremely old woman. A mass of snowy hair was arranged like a small sack on top of her head. As I stepped into the house, she sat down on a wooden bench positioned at the bottom of a narrow carpeted staircase. Once she was settled on the bench, in a small pool of light, she peered up at me with undivided attention. She wore a long black skirt that spread like a stiff tent to the floor, and a starched white shirt edged with ruffles at the throat and cuffs. Her hands, folded together in her lap, had long pallid fingers, with swollen knuckles and tough yellow nails. Age had battered her features so that she almost resembled a man, with sharp, shrunken eyes and prominent creases on either side of her nose. Her lips, chapped and faded, had nearly disappeared, and her eyebrows were missing altogether. Nevertheless she looked fierce.
‘Look up!’ she commanded. She shouted even though I stood only a few feet away. ‘Fasten the chain and firmly press that button on the knob! This is the first thing you shall do when you enter, is that clear?’ 

Word meanings
Sack: A large bag made of strong, coarse material such as burlap or canvas, used for storing and carrying goods.
Peered up: Looked up or gazed upwards, often with curiosity or difficulty.
Stiff: Rigid and difficult to bend or move.
Ruffles: Gathered or pleated strips of fabric used for trimming or decoration.
Pallid: Pale, typically because of poor health or lacking vitality.
Chapped: (Of skin) cracked, rough, and sore, especially because of exposure to cold or dry weather.

Explanation of the above passage—A few minutes later, the door was opened by a very small, old woman. She had a lot of white hair piled on top of her head like a small bag of snow. As he walked into the house, she sat down on a wooden seat. The seat was at the bottom of a thin staircase with carpet. Once she was sitting on the seat, in a small bright spot, she looked up at him very closely. She had on a long black skirt that stood out like a hard tent to the floor. She also had a stiff white shirt with frills around her neck and the ends of her sleeves. Her hands were folded together in her lap. Her fingers were long and pale, with swollen joints and hard yellow nails. She looked old. Her face looked almost like a man’s, with sharp, small eyes and deep lines on both sides of her nose. Her lips were dry and pale and almost gone. She had no eyebrows. But she looked strong and stern.

She told him to look up. She shouted even though he was standing only a short distance away. She told him to close the chain on the door and to push the button on the handle hard. She said that this was the first thing he had to do when he came in, and she asked if that was clear.

 

Passage: I locked the door as directed and examined the house. Next to the bench on which the woman sat was a small round table, its legs fully concealed, much like the woman’s, by a skirt of lace. The table held a lamp, a transistor radio, a leather change purse with a silver clasp and a telephone. A thick wooden cane coated with a layer of dust was propped against one side. There was a parlour to my right, lined with bookcases and filled with shabby claw-footed furniture. In the corner of the parlour I saw a grand piano with its top down, piled with papers. The piano’s bench was missing; it seemed to be the one on which the woman was sitting. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed seven times.
‘You’re punctual!’ the woman proclaimed. ‘ I expect you shall be so with the rent!’
‘I have a letter, madame.’ In my jacket pocket was a letter confirming my employment from MIT, which I had brought along to prove that I was indeed from Tech.
She stared at the letter, then handed it back to me carefully, gripping it with her fingers as if it were a dinner plate heaped with food instead of a sheet of paper. She did not wear glasses and I wondered if she’d read a word of it. ‘The last boy was always late! Still owes me eight dollars! Harvard boys aren’t what they used to be! Only Harvard and Tech in this house! How’s Tech, boy?’
‘It is very well.’
‘You checked the lock?’
‘Yes, madame.’ 

Word meanings
Concealed: Kept secret; hidden from sight or notice.
Transistor: A semiconductor device used to amplify or switch electronic signals and electrical power.
Propped against: Supported by being leaned against something else.
Chimed: (of a bell or a set of bells) make a clear ringing sound, typically a series of harmonically related tones.
Proclaimed: Announced officially or publicly; declared.

Explanation of the above passage—He locked the door as he was told and looked around the house. Next to the seat where the woman was sitting was a small round table. Its legs were completely hidden by a cloth, just like the woman’s legs. On the table were a lamp, a small radio, a leather coin bag with a silver clip, and a phone. A thick wooden walking stick with dust on it was leaning against one side. To his right was a living room. It had shelves full of books and old furniture with curved legs. In the corner of the living room, he saw a big piano with its top closed. There were papers piled on it. The seat for the piano was missing. It seemed to be the one the woman was sitting on. Somewhere in the house, a clock rang seven times. The woman announced that he was on time. She said she expected him to be on time with the rent too. He said that he had a letter, and called her madame. He had a letter in his coat pocket which said he had a job at MIT. He had brought it to show that he was really from Tech.

She looked at the letter. Then she gave it back to him carefully. She held it with her fingers as if it was a plate full of food, not just a piece of paper. She was not wearing glasses, and he wondered if she had read any of it. She said that the previous tenant was always late and still owed her eight dollars rent. She said that Harvard boys were not as good as they used to be. She said that only Harvard and Tech people lived in her house as tenants. Then she asked him how Tech was, calling him ‘boy’. He said that it went very well. She asked if he had checked the lock. He said yes.

 

Passage: She slapped the space beside her on the bench with one hand and told me to sit down. For a moment she was silent. Then she intoned, as if she alone possessed this knowledge:
‘There is an American flag on the moon!’
‘Yes, madame.’ Until then I had not thought very much about the moon shot. It was in the newspaper, of course, article upon article. The astronauts had landed on the shores of the Sea of Tranquillity, I had read, travelling farther than anyone in the history of civilization. For a few hours they explored the moon’s surface. They gathered rocks in their pockets, described their surroundings (a magnificent desolation, according to one astronaut), spoke by phone to the President and planted a flag in lunar soil. The voyage was hailed as man’s most awesome achievement. I had seen full-page photographs in the Globe, of the astronauts in their inflated costumes, and read about what certain people in Boston had been doing at the exact moment the astronauts landed, on a Sunday afternoon. A man said that he was operating a swan boat with a radio pressed to his ear; a woman had been baking rolls for her grandchildren.
The woman bellowed, ‘A flag on the moon, boy! I heard it on the radio! Isn’t that splendid?’
‘Yes, madame.’
But she was not satisfied with my reply. Instead she commanded, ‘Say ‘splendid’!’

Word meanings
Intoned: Say or recite with little rise and fall of the pitch of the voice.
Hailed: Called out to (someone) to attract attention or to greet them.
Inflated: Filled with air or gas so as to increase in size.
Splendid: Very impressive; magnificent.

Explanation of the above passage—She hit the empty space next to her on the seat with one hand and told him to sit down. She was quiet for a moment. Then she said slowly, as if only she knew this fact, that there was an American flag on the moon.

He said yes, madame. Before that, he had not thought much about the moon landing. It was in the newspaper, of course, with many articles. He had read that the astronauts had landed on the edge of the Sea of Tranquility (a large, dark, basaltic plain on Earth’s Moon. It’s not an actual sea of water, but rather a vast, relatively flat area formed by ancient volcanic eruptions). It is famously known as the landing site of Apollo 11 on July 20, 1969. This was the mission that carried astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, who became the first humans to walk on the Moon. Their landing spot within the Sea of Tranquility is officially designated Tranquility Base. The astronauts had traveled farther than anyone ever had. They had spent a few hours looking around on the moon. They had picked up rocks, described what they saw (one astronaut called it a magnificent emptiness), talked on the phone to the President, and put a flag in the moon’s dirt. People said the trip was the most amazing thing humans had ever done. He had seen big pictures in the newspaper of the astronauts in their big suits. He had read about what some people in Boston had been doing when the astronauts landed, on a Sunday afternoon. One man had said he was driving a swan boat with a radio to his ear. A woman had been baking small bread for her grandchildren.

The woman shouted that there was a flag on the moon, calling him boy. She said she had heard it on the radio and asked if it wasn’t wonderful. He said yes, madame. But she was not happy with his answer. Instead, she told him to say “splendid”.

 

Passage: I was both baffled and somewhat insulted by the request. It reminded me of the way I was taught multiplication tables as a child, repeating after the master, sitting cross-legged, without shoes or pencils, on the floor of my one-room Tollygunge school. It also reminded me of my wedding when I had repeated endless Sanskrit verses after the priest, verses I barely understood, which joined me to my wife. I said nothing.
‘Say ‘splendid’!’ the woman bellowed once again.
‘Splendid,’ I murmured. I had to repeat the word a second time at the top of my lungs so she could hear. I am soft-spoken by nature and was especially reluctant to raise my voice to an elderly woman whom I had met only moments ago, but she did not appear to be offended. If anything the reply pleased her because her next command was:
‘Go see the room!’
I rose from the bench and mounted the narrow carpeted staircase. There were five doors, two on either side of an equally narrow hallway and one at the opposite end. Only one door was partly open. The room contained a twin bed under a sloping ceiling, a brown oval rug, a basin with an exposed pipe, and a chest of drawers. One door, painted white, led to a closet, another to a toilet and a tub. The walls were covered with gray and ivory striped paper. The window was open; net curtains stirred in the breeze. I lifted them away and inspected the view: a small backyard, with a few fruit trees and an empty clothesline. I was satisfied. From the bottom of the stairs I heard the woman demand, ‘What is your decision?’ 

Word meanings
Verses: Lines of poetry. They often have a specific rhythm and sometimes rhyme.
Bellowed: Spoke or shouted in a loud, deep voice, often expressing anger or pain.
Mounted: Gotten on or climbed onto something, especially a horse or bicycle
Sloping ceiling: A ceiling that is not flat but angles downwards, usually following the pitch of a roof.
Rug: A thick piece of woven material used to cover part of a floor.

Explanation of the above passage—He felt confused and a little bit insulted by what she asked him to do. It reminded him of when he was a child learning times tables. He had to say them after the teacher, sitting with his legs crossed, without shoes or pencils, on the floor of his small school in Tollygunge. It also reminded him of his wedding. He had to say many Sanskrit verses after the priest, verses he hardly understood. These versesled him to marry his wife. He did not say anything.

The woman shouted again for him to say “splendid”. He whispered ‘splendid’. He had to say the word again very loudly so she could hear him. He was usually quiet and did not want to raise his voice to an old woman he had just met. But she did not seem upset. In fact, his answer seemed to make her happy because her next order was to go and look at the room.

He stood up from the seat and went up the thin staircase with carpet. There were five doors. Two were on each side of a hallway that was also thin. One more door was at the end. Only one door was open a little bit. The room had a small bed under a roof that slanted. There was a brown oval rug, a sink with a pipe showing, and a set of drawers. One door, painted white, led to a closet. Another led to a toilet and a bathtub. The walls had gray and light yellow stripes. The window was open, and thin curtains moved gently in the breeze. He moved them aside and looked at what he could see outside. It was a small backyard with a few fruit trees and a clothesline that had nothing on it. He was happy with it. From the bottom of the stairs, he heard the woman ask what his decision was.

 

Passage: When I returned to the foyer and told her, she picked up the leather change purse on the table, opened the clasp, fished about with her fingers, and produced a key on a thin wire hoop. She informed me that there was a kitchen at the back of the house, accessible through the parlour. I was welcome to use the stove as long as I left it as I found it. Sheets and towels were provided but keeping them clean was my own responsibility. The rent was due Friday mornings on the ledge above the piano keys. ‘And no lady visitors!’
‘I am a married man, madame.’ It was the first time I had announced this fact to anyone.
But she had not heard. ‘No lady visitors!’ she insisted. She introduced herself as Mrs Croft.
My wife’s name was Mala. The marriage had been arranged by my older brother and his wife. I regarded the proposition with neither objection nor enthusiasm. It was a duty expected of me as it was expected of every man. She was the daughter of a school teacher in Beleghata. I was told that she could cook, knot, embroider, sketch landscapes and recite poems by Tagore, but these talents could not make up for the fact that she did not possess a fair complexion and so a string of men had rejected her to her face. She was twenty-seven, an age when her parents had begun to fear that she would never marry, and so they were willing to ship their only child halfway across the world in order to save her from spinsterhood. 

Word meanings
foyer: an entrance hall or other open area in a building used by the public, especially a hotel or theatre.
Accessible: Easy to approach, enter, or use.
Ledge: A narrow shelf projecting from a wall or cliff.
Proposition: A suggested plan or action.
Spinsterhood: The state of being an unmarried woman, especially one considered past the usual age for marrying.

Explanation of the above passage—When he went back to the front hall and told her, she picked up the leather coin bag from the table. She opened the clip, reached inside with her fingers, and took out a key on a thin metal ring. She told him that there was a kitchen at the back of the house. He could get to it through the living room. He could use the stove as long as he left it the way he found it. She would give him sheets and towels, but he had to keep them clean himself. The rent had to be paid on Friday mornings on the shelf above the piano keys. And she said no women visitors were allowed.

He said that he was a married man, calling her madame. It was the first time he had told anyone this. But she had not heard him. She insisted that no women visitors were allowed. She told him her name was Mrs Croft. His wife’s name was Mala. His older brother and his wife had arranged the marriage. He did not feel strongly against it or excited about it. It was something he was expected to do, like every man. She was the daughter of a school teacher in Beleghata. He had been told that she could cook, tie knots, do embroidery, draw pictures of landscapes, and say poems by Tagore. But these skills did not make up for her not having light skin tone because of which many wedding proposals had been turned down by the men, directly in her face. She was twenty-seven years old. Her parents had started to worry that she would never get married. So, they were willing to send their only child very far away to save her from becoming an old unmarried woman.

 

Passage: For five nights we shared a bed. Each of those nights, after applying cold cream and braiding her hair, which she tied up at the end with a black cotton string, she turned from me and wept; she missed her parents. Although I would be leaving the country in a few days, custom dictated that she was now a part of my household, and for the next six weeks she was to live with my brother and his wife, cooking, cleaning, serving tea and sweets to guests. I did nothing to console her. I lay on my own side of the bed, reading my guidebook by flashlight and anticipating my journey. At times I thought of the tiny room on the other side of the wall which had belonged to my mother. Now the room was practically empty; the wooden pallet on which she’d once slept was piled with trunks and old bedding. Nearly six years ago, before leaving for London, I had watched her die on that bed, had found her playing with her excrement in her final days. Before we cremated her I had cleaned each of her fingernails with a hairpin and then, because my brother could not bear it, I had assumed the role of eldest son, and had touched the flame to her temple, to release her tormented soul to heaven. 

Word meanings
Dictated: Spoken or read aloud for someone else to write down; also, controlled or determined the nature or form of something.
Pallet: A straw-filled mattress; or a flat structure used for transporting goods.
Excrement: Waste matter discharged from the bowels; feces.

Explanation of the above passage—After their marriage, the narrator lived with his wife for five nights. Each night, she applied cold cream and braided her hair, which she tied at the end with a black string, and later turned away from him and wept as she missed her parents. She missed her parents. Even though he would leave the country in a few days, their custom said that she was now part of his family. For the next six weeks, she would live with his brother and his wife, cooking, cleaning, and serving tea and sweets to guests. He did nothing to comfort her. He lay on his side of the bed, reading his book with a small light and thinking about his trip. Sometimes, he thought about the small room on the other side of the wall that had belonged to his mother. Now the room was almost empty. The wooden bed she used to sleep on had piles of boxes and old blankets. Almost six years before, before he left for London, he had watched her die on that bed. In her last days, he had found her playing with her own waste. Before they burned her body, he had cleaned each of her fingernails with a hairpin. Then, because his brother could not handle the pain of mother’s death, he had acted as the oldest son and consigned her body to fire or cremated her body as is the custom in Hindu religion.

 

Passage: The next morning I moved into the room in Mrs Croft’s house. When I unlocked the door, I saw that she was sitting on the piano bench, on the same side as the previous evening. She wore the same black skirt, the same starched white blouse and had her hands folded together the same way in her lap. She looked so much the same that I wondered if she’d spent the whole night on the bench. I put my suitcase upstairs, filled my flask with boiling water in the kitchen, and headed off to work. That evening when I came home from the university, she was still there.
‘Sit down, boy!’ She slapped the space beside her.
I perched beside her on the bench. I had a bag of groceries with me—more milk, more cornflakes and more bananas, for, my inspection of the kitchen earlier in the day had revealed no spare pots, pans, or cooking utensils. There were only two saucepans in the refrigerator, both containing some orange broth, and a copper kettle on the stove.
‘Good evening, madame.’
She asked me if I had checked the lock. I told her I had.
For a moment she was silent. Then suddenly she declared, with equal measures of disbelief and delight as the night before, ‘There’s an American flag on the moon, boy!’
‘Yes, madame.’
‘A flag on the moon! Isn’t that splendid?’
I nodded, dreading what I knew was coming. ‘Yes, madame.’
‘Say ‘splendid’!’
This time I paused, looking to either side in case anyone were there to overhear me, though I knew perfectly well that the house was empty. I felt like an idiot. But is was a small enough thing to ask. ‘splendid!’ I cried out. 

Word meanings
Perched: Rested or sat on a high or narrow place.
Overhear: Hear (someone or something) without intending to or without the speaker knowing.

Explanation of the above passage—The next morning, he moved into the room in Mrs Croft’s house. When he opened the door, he saw that she was sitting on the piano seat, on the same side as the night before. She had on the same black skirt and the same stiff white shirt. Her hands were folded together in her lap in the same way. She looked so much the same that he wondered if she had stayed on the seat all night. He took his suitcase upstairs, filled his flask with hot water in the kitchen, and left for work. That evening, when he came home from the university, she was still there. She hit the empty space next to her and told him to sit down, calling him boy. He sat beside her on the seat. He had a bag of food with him—more milk, more cornflakes, and more bananas. He had looked in the kitchen earlier and had seen no extra pots, pans, or things for cooking. There were only two small pots in the fridge, both with some orange liquid, and a copper pot on the stove. He said good evening to her, calling her madame. She asked him if he had checked the lock. He told her that he had. She was quiet for a moment. Then, suddenly, she said, with the same surprise and happiness as the night before, that there was an American flag on the moon, calling him boy. He said yes, madame.

She said there was a flag on the moon and asked if it wasn’t splendid. He nodded, not wanting to hear what he knew was coming. He said yes, madame. She told him to say “splendid”. This time, he paused and looked to both sides to see if anyone could hear him, even though he knew the house was empty. He felt silly. But it was a small thing to ask. He shouted “splendid”.

 

Passage: Within days it became our routine. In the mornings, when I left for the library, Mrs Croft was either hidden away in her bedroom, on the other side of the staircase, or she was sitting on the bench, oblivious to my presence, listening to the news or classical music on the radio. But each evening when I returned the same thing happened: she slapped the bench, ordered me to sit down, declared that there was a flag on the moon, and declared that it was splendid. I said it was splendid, too, and then we sat in silence. As awkward as it was, and as endless as it felt to me then, the nightly encounter lasted only about ten minutes; inevitably she would drift off to sleep, her head falling abruptly toward her chest, leaving me free to retire to my room. By then, of course, there was no flag on the moon. The astronauts, I had read in the paper, had taken it down before flying back to earth. But I did not have the heart to tell her. 

Word meanings
Hidden away: Put or kept in a place where it is not easily seen or found; concealed.
Oblivious: Not aware of or not concerned about what is happening around one.
Nightly encounter: An unplanned or unexpected meeting that happens every night.
Inevitably: As is certain to happen; unavoidably.

Explanation of the above passage—After a few days, it became what they always did. In the mornings, when he left for the library, Mrs Croft was either hidden in her bedroom, on the other side of the stairs, or she was sitting on the seat, not noticing him, listening to the news or classical music on the radio. But every evening when he came back, the same thing happened. She hit the seat, told him to sit down, said that there was a flag on the moon, and said that it was splendid. He said it was splendid too, and then they sat without talking. Even though it felt strange and like it would never end for him then, their meeting each night only lasted about ten minutes. Then, she would always fall asleep, her head dropping suddenly to her chest. This let him go to his room. By then, of course, there was no flag on the moon. He had read in the newspaper that the astronauts had taken it down before flying back to Earth. But he did not want to tell her.

 

Passage: Friday morning, when my first week’s rent was due, I went to the piano in the parlour to place my money on the ledge. The piano keys were dull and discoloured. When I pressed one, it made no sound at all. I had put eight one dollar bills in an envelope and written Mrs Croft’s name on the front of it; I was not in the habit of leaving money unmarked and unattended. From where I stood I could see the profile of her tent-shaped skirt. She was sitting on the bench, listening to the radio. It seemed unnecessary to make her get up and walk all the way to the piano. I never saw her walking about and assumed, from the cane always propped against the round table at her side, that she did so with difficulty. When I approached the bench, she peered up at me and demanded:
‘What is your business?’
‘The rent, madame.’
‘On the ledge above the piano keys!’
‘I have it here.’ I extended the envelope toward her, but her fingers, folded together in her lap, did not budge. I bowed slightly and lowered the envelope, so that it hovered just above her hands. After a moment she accepted, and nodded her head.
That night when I came home, she did not slap the bench but out of habit I sat beside her as usual. She asked me if I had checked the lock but she mentioned nothing about the flag on the moon. Instead she said:
‘It was very kind of you!’
‘I beg your pardon, madame?’
‘Very kind of you!’
She was still holding the envelope in her hands. 

Word meanings
Budge: Make or cause to make the slightest movement.
Hovered: Remained in one place in the air; lingered or remained very near a place or person.

Explanation of the above passage—On Friday morning, when he had to pay his rent for the first week, he went to the piano in the living room to put his money on the shelf, as directed by the lady. The piano keys were dull and had lost their color. When he pressed one, it made no sound at all. He had put eight one-dollar bills in an envelope and written Mrs Croft’s name on the front. He usually did not leave money without a name on it and without someone watching it. From where he was standing, he could see the side of her skirt that looked like a tent. She was sitting on the seat, listening to the radio. It seemed like he did not need to make her get up and walk all the way to the piano. He never saw her walking around and thought that she walked with difficulty because of the walking stick that was always leaning against the round table next to her. When he went near the seat, she looked up at him and asked what his business was. He said it was the rent, calling her madame. She told him to keep it on the shelf above the piano keys. He said he had placed it there. He held the envelope out to her, but her fingers, which were folded together in her lap, did not move. He bent down a little and lowered the envelope so that it was just above her hands. After a moment, she took it and nodded her head. That night when he returned, she did not hit the seat, but he sat beside her as usual because he always did. She asked him if he had checked the lock, but she did not say anything about the flag on the moon. Instead, she said that he was very kind. He asked her to say that again, calling her madame. She said that he was very kind, for paying the rent on time. She was still holding the envelope in her hands.

 

Passage: On Sunday there was a knock on my door. An elderly woman introduced herself: she was Mrs Croft’s daughter, Helen. She walked into the room and looked at each of the walls as if for signs of change, glancing at the shirts that hung in the closet, the neckties draped over the doorknob,  the box of cornflakes on the chest of drawers, the dirty bowl and spoon in the basin. She was short and thick-waisted, with cropped silver hair and bright pink lipstick. She wore a sleeveless summer dress, a row of white plastic beads and spectacles on a chain that hung like a swing against her chest. The backs of her legs were mapped with dark blue veins and her upper arms sagged like the flesh of a roasted eggplant. She told me she lived in Arlington, a town farther up Massachusetts Avenue. ‘I come once a week to bring Mother groceries. Has she sent you packing yet?’
‘It is very well, madame.’
‘Some of the boys run screaming. But I think she likes you. You’re the first boarder she’s ever referred to as a gentleman.’
‘Not at all, madame.’
She looked at me, noticing my bare feet (I still felt strange wearing shoes indoors, and always removed them before entering my room). ‘Are you new to Boston?’
‘New to America, madame.’
‘From?’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘I am from Calcutta, India.’
‘Is that right? We had a Brazilian fellow, about a year ago. You’ll find Cambridge a very international city.’ 

Word meanings
Draped over: Arranged loosely or casually by laying it across something. Imagine a shawl draped over a chair.
Eggplant: A dark purple, oval-shaped vegetable. It’s also known as aubergine in British English.
Boarder: A person who pays for lodging and often meals at someone’s house.

Explanation of the above passage—On Sunday, someone knocked on his door. An older woman said hello and told him she was Mrs Croft’s daughter, Helen. She walked into the room and looked at all the walls, as if checking if anything had changed. She looked at the shirts in the closet, the ties hanging on the doorknob, the box of cornflakes on the chest of drawers, and the dirty bowl and spoon in the sink. She was short and had a thick middle, with short silver hair and bright pink lipstick. She wore a summer dress without sleeves, a string of white plastic beads, and glasses on a chain that hung like a swing on her chest. The blue veins at the back of her lower legs were visible, and the skin on her upper arms was loose and hung down like cooked eggplant. She told him she lived in Arlington, a town farther up Massachusetts Avenue. She said she came once a week to bring her mother food. She asked if her mother had already told him to leave.

He said that everything was very well, calling her madame. She said that some of the young men ran away screaming. But she thought her mother liked him. She said he was the first person renting a room that her mother had ever called a gentleman. He said not at all. She looked at him and saw that his feet were bare. He still felt strange wearing shoes inside and always took them off before going into his room. She asked if he was new to Boston. He said he was new to America. She asked where he was from raising her eyebrows. He said he was from Calcutta, India. She questioned if it’s right and also mentioned that they had a Brazilian person living there about a year ago. She told him that he would find Cambridge to be an international city with people of various ethnicities.

 

Passage: I nodded, and began to wonder how long our conversation would last. But at that moment we heard Mrs Croft’s electrifying voice rising up the stairs. When we stepped into the hallway we heard her hollering:
‘You are to come downstairs immediately!’
‘What is it?’ Helen hollered back.
‘Immediately!’
I put on my shoes at once. Helen sighed.
We walked down the staircase. It was too narrow for us to descend side by side, so I followed Helen, who seemed to be in no hurry, and complained at one point that she had a bad knee. ‘Have you been walking without your cane?’ Helen called out. ‘You know you’re not supposed to walk without that cane.’ She paused, resting her hand on the banister, and looked back at me. ‘She slips sometimes.’
For the first time Mrs Croft seemed vulnerable. I pictured her on the floor in front of the bench, flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, her feet pointing in opposite directions. But when we reached the bottom of the staircase she was sitting there as usual, her hands folded together in her lap. Two grocery bags were at her feet. When we stood before her she did not slap the bench, or ask us to sit down. She glared.
‘What is it, Mother?’
‘It’s improper!’
‘What’s improper?’
‘It is improper for a lady and gentleman who are not married to one another to hold a private conversation without a chaperone!’ 

Word meanings
Electrifying: Very exciting, startling, or thrilling. It can also literally mean charged with or producing electricity.
Banister: The railing at the side of a staircase or balcony, supported by posts.
Chaperone: A person, usually an older woman, who accompanies and supervises a young unmarried woman or a group of young people.

Explanation of the above passage—He nodded and started to wonder how long their talk would last. But just then, they heard Mrs Croft’s loud and strong voice coming up the stairs. When they stepped into the hallway, they heard her shouting that he had to come downstairs immediately. Helen shouted back, asking what was wrong. Mrs Croft shouted again to come down immediately. He put on his shoes right away. Helen sighed. They walked down the stairs. It was too narrow for them to walk side by side, so he followed Helen. She seemed to be taking her time and said at one point that her knee hurt. Helen called out, asking if her mother had been walking without her cane. She said that her mother knew she wasn’t supposed to walk without that cane. She stopped, holding onto the railing, and looked back at him. She said that her mother sometimes slipped. For the first time, the narrator found Mrs Croft weak. He imagined her on the floor in front of the seat, on her back, looking at the ceiling, with her feet pointing in different directions. But when they reached the bottom of the stairs, she was sitting there as usual, with her hands folded in her lap. There were two bags of groceries at her feet. When they stood in front of her, she did not hit the seat or tell them to sit down. She looked angry. Helen asked her mother what was wrong. Mrs Croft said it was not proper. Helen asked what was not proper. Mrs Croft said that it was not proper for a lady and a gentleman who were not married to each other to have a private conversation without someone else being there. 

 

Passage: Helen said she was sixty-eight years old, old enough to be my mother, but Mrs Croft insisted that Helen and I speak to each other downstairs, in the parlour. She added that it was also improper for a lady of Helen’s station to reveal her age, and to wear a dress so high above the ankle.
‘For your information, Mother, it’s 1969. What would you do if you actually left the house one day and saw a girl in a miniskirt?’
Mrs Croft sniffed, ‘I’d have her arrested.’
Helen shook her head and picked up one of the grocery bags. I picked up the other one and followed her through the parlour and into the kitchen. The bags were filled with cans of soup, which Helen opened up one by one with a few cranks of a can opener. She tossed the old soup in the saucepans into the sink, rinsed the pans under the tap, filled them with soup from the newly opened cans, and put them back in the refrigerator. ‘A few years ago she could still open the cans herself,’ Helen said. ‘She hates that I do it for her now. But the piano killed her hands.’ She put on her spectacles, glanced at the cupboards, and spotted my tea bags. ‘Shall we have a cup?’ 

Word meanings
Sniffed: Inhaled audibly through the nose, often to smell something or to express disapproval or disdain.
Cranks of a can opener: the mechanical turning motion or handle used to operate the can opener and cut the lid off a can.

Explanation of the above passage—Helen said that she was sixty-eight years old, which was old enough to be his mother. But Mrs Croft insisted that Helen and he should talk to each other downstairs, in the living room. She also said that it was not proper for a woman of Helen’s position to disclose her age, and to wear a dress that showed so much of her legs as it ended above the ankles.

Helen then said to her mother that it was nineteen sixty-nine, and the society had evolved now. She asked what her mother would do if she actually left the house one day and saw a girl wearing a very short skirt.

Mrs Croft made a sniffing sound and said she would have that girl arrested.

Helen shook her head and picked up one of the bags of groceries. He picked up the other one and followed her through the living room and into the kitchen. The bags were full of cans of soup. Helen opened them one after another using a can opener. She poured the old soup from the small pots into the sink, washed the pots under the water, filled them with soup from the new cans, and put them back in the refrigerator. Helen said that a few years ago, her mother could still open the cans herself. She said her mother hated that she had to do it for her now, and that the piano had ruined her mother’s hands. Helen put on her glasses, looked at the cupboards, and saw his tea bags. She asked if they should have a cup of tea.

 

Passage: I filled the kettle on the stove. ‘ I beg your pardon, madame. The piano?’
‘She used to give lessons. For forty years. It was how she raised us after my father died.’ Helen put her hands on her hips, staring at the open refrigerator. She reached into the back, pulled out a wrapped stick of butter, frowned, and tossed it into the garbage. ‘That ought to do it,’ she said, and put the unopened cans of soup in the cupboard. I sat at the table and watched as Helen washed the dirty dishes, tied up the garbage bag, watered a spider plant over the sink, and poured boiling water into two cups. She handed one to me without milk, the string of the tea bag trailing over the side, and sat down at the table.
‘Excuse me, madame, but is it enough?’
Helen took a sip of her tea. Her lipstick left a smiling pink stain on the inside rim of the cup. ‘Is what enough?’
‘The soup in the pans. Is it enough food for Mrs Croft?’
‘She won’t eat anything else. She stopped eating solids after she turned one hundred. That was, let’s see, three years ago.’ 

Word meanings
Trailing: Following behind someone or something; hanging down loosely or extending along the ground.
Rim: The outer edge of something circular or roughly circular.

Explanation of the above passage—He filled the kettle with water on the stove. He asked Helen about the piano. Helen said that her mother used to give piano lessons for forty years. She said that was how her mother raised them after her father died. Helen put her hands on her hips and looked at the open refrigerator. She reached into the back, took out a wrapped piece of butter, looked unhappy, and threw it into the trash. She said that should be enough and put the unopened cans of soup in the cupboard. He sat at the table and watched as Helen washed the dirty dishes, tied up the trash bag, watered a plant hanging over the sink, and poured hot water into two cups. She gave one to him without milk, with the string of the tea bag hanging over the side, and sat down at the table.
He asked Helen, calling her madame, if it was enough.

Helen took a drink of her tea. Her lipstick left a pink mark on the inside edge of the cup that looked like a smile. She asked what was enough.

He asked about the soup in the pots, if it was enough food for Mrs Croft.

Helen said that her mother would not eat anything else. She said her mother had stopped eating solid food after she turned one hundred. She thought for a moment and said that was three years ago. 

 

Passage: I was mortified. I had assumed Mrs Croft was in her eighties, perhaps as old as ninety. I had never known a person who had lived for over a century. That this person was a widow who lived alone mortified me further still. It was widowhood that had driven my own mother insane. My father, who worked as a clerk at the General Post Office of Calcutta, died of encephalitis when I was sixteen. My mother refused to adjust to life without him; instead, she sank deeper into a world of darkness from which neither I, nor my brother, nor concerned relatives, nor psychiatric clinics on Rashbihari Avenue could save her. What pained me most was to see her so unguarded, to hear her burp after meals or expel gas in front of company without the slightest embarrassment. After my father’s death my brother abandoned his schooling and began to work in the jute mill he would eventually manage, in  order to keep the household running. And so it was my job to sit by my mother’s feet and study for my exams as she counted and recounted the bracelets on her arm as if they were the beads of an abacus. We tried to keep an eye on her. Once she had wandered half naked to the tram depot before we were able to bring her inside again. 

Word meanings
Mortified: Extremely embarrassed or ashamed.
Widow: A woman whose husband has died and who has not remarried.
Encephalitis: Inflammation of the brain, usually caused by a viral infection.
Tram: (Primarily British English) A public transportation vehicle that runs on rails along streets, typically powered by electricity supplied through overhead wires.

Explanation of the above passage—He felt very ashamed and shocked. He had thought Mrs Croft was in her eighties, maybe as old as ninety. He had never known anyone who had lived for more than a hundred years. The fact that this person was a widow who lived alone made him feel even more ashamed. It was being a widow that had made his own mother lose her mind. His father, who worked as a clerk at the main post office in Calcutta, had died from a brain disease when he was sixteen. His mother had refused to get used to life without his father. Instead, she had become more and more lost in her own dark world. Neither he, nor his brother, nor worried family members, nor mental health clinics on Rashbihari Avenue could help her. What made him most sad was seeing her act without any care, like hearing her burp after eating or pass gas in front of guests without being embarrassed at all. After his father died, his brother had quit school and started working in the jute factory that he would later manage, to earn money for the family. So, it was his job to sit by his mother’s feet and study for his exams while she counted the bracelets on her arm over and over, as if they were the beads of a counting tool. They had tried to watch her carefully. Once, she had walked almost naked to the tram station before they were able to bring her back inside.

 

Passage: ‘I am happy to warm Mrs Croft’s soup in the evenings,’ I suggested, removing the tea bag from my cup and squeezing out the liquor. ‘It is no trouble.’
Helen looked at her watch, stood up, and poured the rest of her tea into the sink. ‘I wouldn’t if I were you. That’s the sort of thing that would kill her altogether.’
That evening, when Helen had gone back to Arlington and Mrs Croft and I were alone again, I began to worry. Now that I knew how very old she was, I worried that something would happen to her in the middle of the night, or when I was out during the day. As vigorous as her voice was, and imperious as she seemed, I knew that even a scratch or a cough could kill a person that old; each day she lived, I knew, was something of a miracle. Although Helen had seemed friendly enough, a small part of me worried that she might accuse me of negligence if anything were to happen. Helen didn’t seem worried. She came and went, bringing soup for Mrs Croft, one Sunday after the next. 

Word meanings
Vigorous: Strong, healthy, and full of energy.
Imperious: Assuming power or authority without justification; arrogant and domineering.

Explanation of the above passage— He suggested that he was happy to warm Mrs Croft’s soup in the evenings. He said it was no trouble, while taking the tea bag out of his cup and squeezing the liquid from it. Helen looked at her watch, stood up, and poured the rest of her tea into the sink. She said that if she were him, she wouldn’t do that. She said that kind of thing would kill her mother completely. Helen knew Mr Croft was a fiercely independent woman and isn’t looking for help, moreover she resents it. That evening, after Helen had gone back to Arlington and he and Mrs Croft were alone again, he started to worry. Now that he knew how very old she was, he worried that something could happen to her in the middle of the night, or when he was out during the day. Even though her voice was strong and she seemed bossy, he knew that even a small scratch or a cough could kill someone that old. He knew that every day she lived was like a miracle. Even though Helen had seemed friendly enough, a small part of him worried that she might blame him for not taking care of her if anything happened. Helen did not seem worried. She kept coming and going, bringing soup for Mrs Croft, every Sunday.

 

Passage: In this manner the six weeks of that summer passed. I came home each evening, after my hours at the library, and spent a few minutes on the piano bench with Mrs Croft. I gave her a bit of my company, and assured her that I had checked the lock, and told her that the flag on the moon was splendid. Some evenings I sat beside her long after she had drifted off to sleep, still in awe of how many years she had spent on this earth. At times I tried to picture the world she had been born into, in 1866—a world, I imagined, filled with women in long black skirts and chaste conversations in the parlour. Now when I looked at her hands with their swollen knuckles folded together in her lap, I imagined them smooth and slim, striking the piano keys. At times I came downstairs, before going to sleep, to make sure that she was sitting upright on the bench, or was safe in her bedroom. On Fridays I made sure to put the rent in her hands. There was nothing I could do for her beyond these simple gestures. I was not her son and apart from those eight dollars, I owed her nothing. 

Word meanings
chaste: without unnecessary ornamentation; simple or restrained.
knuckles: a part of a finger at a joint where the bone is near the surface, especially where the finger joins the hand.

Explanation of the above passage—That summer, the six weeks went by in this way. Every evening, after he finished work at the library, he went home and spent a little time sitting next to Mrs Croft on the piano seat. He kept her company for a short while. He always told her that he had checked the lock on the door. He also told her that the flag on the moon was splendid. Some evenings, he sat next to her for a long time after she had fallen asleep. He was still amazed at how many years she had lived. Sometimes, he tried to imagine the world she was born into, in eighteen sixty-six. He thought it was a world where women wore long black skirts and had proper conversations in the living room. Now, when he looked at her hands with their swollen joints folded in her lap, he imagined them being smooth and thin, playing the piano keys. Sometimes, before he went to sleep, he went downstairs to make sure she was sitting up straight on the seat or was safe in her bedroom. On Fridays, he always made sure to put the rent money in her hands. He could not do anything more for her than these simple things. He was not her son, and besides the eight dollars he paid her, he did not owe her anything.

 

Passage: At the end of August, Mala’s passport and green card were ready. I received a telegram with her flight information; my brother’s house in Calcutta had no telephone. Around that time I also received a letter from her, written only a few days after we had parted. There was no salutation; addressing me by name would have assumed an intimacy we had not yet discovered. It contained only a few lines. ‘I write in English in preparation for the journey. Here I am very much lonely. Is it very cold there. Is there snow. Yours, Mala.’

I was not touched by her words. We had spent only a handful of days in each other’s company. And yet we were bound together; for six weeks she had worn an iron bangle on her wrist, and applied vermilion powder to the part in her hair, to signify to the world that she was a bride. In those six weeks I regarded her arrival as I would the arrival of a coming month, or season—something inevitable but meaningless at the time. So little did I know her that, while details of her face sometimes rose to my memory, I could not conjure up the whole of it. 

Word meanings
Salutation: A greeting, especially a formal one used in a letter or speech (e.g., “Dear Sir or Madam,” “Hello”).
Vermilion: A brilliant red pigment originally made from powdered cinnabar (mercury sulfide). A symbol of being married in Hindu culture.
Conjure up: To bring to mind; recall or evoke. It can also mean to create or bring into existence as if by magic.

Explanation of the above passage—At the end of August, Mala’s passport and permission to live in America were ready. He got a telegram with the information about her flight. His brother’s house in Calcutta did not have a phone. Around that time, he also got a letter from her. She had written it only a few days after they had said goodbye. There was no greeting at the start. Calling him by his name would have suggested a closeness they did not yet have. The letter only had a few lines. She wrote in English to get ready for the trip. She said she was very lonely there. She asked if it was very cold where he was and if there was snow. She signed it “Yours, Mala.”

He did not feel any strong emotion because of her words. They had only spent a few days together. But they were tied to each other. For six weeks, she had worn an iron bracelet on her wrist and put red powder in the line of her hair. This was to show everyone that she was a bride. During those six weeks, he thought of her coming like he would think of the next month or the next season—something that was going to happen but did not mean much to him at that time. He knew so little about her that even though he could sometimes remember small parts of her face, he could not picture all of it in his mind.

 

Passage: A few days after receiving the letter, as I was walking to work in the morning, I saw an Indian woman on the other side of Massachusetts Avenue, wearing a sari with its free end nearly dragging on the footpath, and pushing a child in a stroller. An American woman with a small black dog on a leash was walking to one side of her. Suddenly the dog began barking. From the other side of the street I watched as the Indian woman, startled, stopped in her path, at which point the dog leapt up and seized the end of the sari between its teeth. The American woman scolded the dog, appeared to apologise, and walked quickly away, leaving the Indian woman to fix her sari in the middle of the footpath, and quiet her crying child. She did not see me standing there and eventually she continued on her way. Such a mishap, I realised that morning, would soon be my concern. It was my duty to take care of Mala, to welcome her and protect her. I would have to buy her her first pair of snow boots, her first winter coat. I would have to tell her which streets to avoid, which way the traffic came, tell her to wear her sari so that the free end did not drag on the footpath. A five-mile separation from her parents, I recalled with some irritation, had caused her to weep. 

Word meanings
Stroller: A small carriage with wheels in which a baby or young child is pushed around. (Sometimes also called a pushchair or buggy).
Leapt up: Rose quickly and suddenly from a lying or sitting position, typically with a jump. It implies a quick, energetic movement.
Seized: Took hold of suddenly and forcibly. It suggests a firm and often forceful grasp.

Explanation of the above passage—A few days after he got the letter, while he was walking to work in the morning, he saw an Indian woman across Massachusetts Avenue. She was wearing a sari, and the loose end was almost touching the sidewalk. She was pushing a child in a stroller. An American woman was walking next to her with a small black dog on a leash. Suddenly, the dog started barking. From the other side of the street, he watched as the Indian woman, surprised, stopped walking. Then, the dog jumped up and grabbed the end of the sari with its teeth. The American woman told the dog off, seemed to say sorry, and quickly walked away. The Indian woman was left to fix her sari in the middle of the sidewalk and calm her crying child. She did not see him standing there, and after a while, she continued walking. He realized that morning that such a problem would soon be his to worry about. It was his duty to take care of Mala, to welcome her and protect her. He would have to buy her first snow boots and her first winter coat. He would have to tell her which streets to avoid, which way the cars came, and to wear her sari in such a manner that the loose end did not drag on the sidewalk. He remembered with some annoyance that being only five miles away from her parents had made her cry.

 

Passage: Unlike Mala, I was used to it all by then: used to cornflakes and milk, used to Helen’s visits, used to sitting on the bench with Mrs Croft. The only thing I was not used to was Mala. Nevertheless I did what I had to do. I went to the housing office at MIT and found a furnished apartment a few blocks away, with a double bed and a private kitchen and bath, for forty dollars a week. One last Friday I handed Mrs Croft eight one-dollar bills in an envelope, brought my suitcase downstairs, and informed her that I was moving. She put my key into her change purse. The last thing she asked me to do was to hand her the cane propped against the table so that she could walk to the door and lock it behind me. ‘Good-bye, then,’ she said, and retreated back into the house. I did not expect any display of emotion but I was disappointed all the same. I was only a boarder, a man who paid her a bit of money and passed in and out of her home for six weeks. Compared to a century, it was no time at all. 

Word meanings
retreated: move back or withdraw.

Explanation of the above passage—Unlike Mala, he was used to everything by then. He was used to eating cornflakes and milk, used to Helen’s visits, and used to sitting on the bench with Mrs Croft. The only thing he was not used to was Mala. But he did what he had to do. He went to the housing office at MIT and found a furnished apartment a few blocks away. It had a double bed and its own kitchen and bathroom, for forty dollars a week. One last Friday, he gave Mrs Croft eight one-dollar bills in an envelope. He brought his suitcase downstairs and told her that he was moving. She put his key into her coin purse. The last thing she asked him to do was to hand her the walking stick that was leaning against the table so she could walk to the door and lock it after he left. She then said good-bye and went back into the house. He had not expected her to show any emotion, but he was disappointed anyway. He was only someone renting a room, a man who paid her a little money and went in and out of her home for six weeks. Compared to a hundred years, it was a very short time.

 

Passage: At the airport I recognised Mala immediately. The free end of her sari did not drag on the floor but was draped in a sign of bridal modesty over her head, just as it had draped my mother until the day my father died. Her thin brown arms were stacked with gold bracelets, a small red circle was painted on her forehead and the edges of her feet were tinted with a decorative red dye. I did not embrace her, or kiss her, or take her hand. Instead I asked her, speaking Bengali for the first time in America, if she was hungry.
I told her I had prepared some egg curry at home. ‘What did they give you to eat on the plane?’
‘I didn’t eat.’
‘All the way from Calcutta?’
‘The menu said oxtail soup.’
‘But surely there were other items.’
‘The thought of eating an ox’s tail made me lose my appetite.’ 

Word meanings
Modesty: The quality of being unassuming or moderate in the estimation of one’s abilities or achievements. It can also refer to propriety in dress, speech, or behavior.
Stacked with: Filled with a large quantity of something, often arranged in layers or piles. It implies an abundance or a dense arrangement.

Explanation of the above passage—At the airport, he knew Mala right away. The loose end of her sari was not touching the floor. Instead, it was draped over her head to show she was a modest bride, just like his mother had worn hers until his father died. She had many gold bracelets on her thin brown arms. There was a small red dot on her forehead, and the edges of her feet were colored with a pretty red dye. He did not hug her, or kiss her, or hold her hand. Instead, he asked her in Bengali, speaking that language for the first time in America, if she was hungry.

He told her he had made some egg curry at home. He asked what they had given her to eat on the plane.

She said she had not eaten. He asked if that was all the way from Calcutta. She said the menu had oxtail soup. He asked if there were no other things to eat. She said that the thought of eating an ox’s tail had made her not want to eat anything.

 

Passage: When we arrived home, Mala opened up one of her suitcases and presented me with two pullover sweaters, both made with bright blue wool, which she had knitted in the course of our separation, one with a V neck, the other covered with cables. I tried them on; both were tight under the arms. She had also brought me two new pairs of drawstring pyjamas, a letter from my brother and a packet of loose Darjeeling tea. I had no present for her apart from the egg curry. We sat at a bare table, each of us staring at our plates. We ate with our hands, another thing I had not yet done in America.
‘The house is nice,’ she said, ‘also the egg curry’. With her left hand she held the end of her sari to her chest, so it would not slip off her head.
‘I don’t know many recipes.’
She nodded, peeling the skin off each of her potatoes before eating them. At one point the sari slipped to her shoulders. She readjusted it at once.
‘There is no need to cover your head,’ I said. ‘I don’t mind. It doesn’t matter here.’
She kept it covered anyway.

Word meanings
Peeling the skin off: To remove the outer layer of something, especially fruit, vegetables, or a person’s skin. It suggests a process of stripping away the surface.

Explanation of the above passage—When they got home, Mala opened one of her suitcases and gave him two sweaters. Both were made of bright blue wool. She had knitted them while they were apart. One had a V neck, and the other had a pattern of twists. He tried them on, but both felt tight under his arms. She had also brought him two new pairs of loose pants, a letter from his brother, and a bag of Darjeeling tea leaves. He had no gift for her except the egg curry. They sat at a plain table, each looking at their own plate. They ate with their hands, something he had not done yet in America.

She said that the house was nice, and so was the egg curry. With her left hand, she held the end of her sari to her chest so it would not fall off her head.

He said he did not know many recipes.

She nodded and peeled the skin off each of her potatoes before eating them. At one point, her sari slipped down to her shoulders. She fixed it right away. He told her that she did not need to cover her head. He said he did not mind and that it did not matter there.

But she kept it covered anyway. 

 

Passage: I waited to get used to her, to her presence at my side, at my table and in my bed, but a week later we were still strangers. I still was not used to coming home to an apartment that smelled of steamed rice, and finding that the basin in the bathroom was always wiped clean, our two toothbrushes lying side by side, a cake of Pears soap from India resting in the soap dish. I was not used to the fragrance of the coconut oil she rubbed every other night into her scalp, or the delicate sound her bracelets made as she moved about the apartment. In the mornings she was always awake before I was. The first morning when I came into the kitchen she had heated up the leftovers and set a plate with a spoonful of salt on its edge on the table, assuming I would eat rice for breakfast, as most Bengali husbands did. I told her cereal would do and the next morning when I came into the kitchen she had already poured the cornflakes into my bowl. One morning she walked with me down Massachusetts Avenue to MIT, where I gave her a short tour of the campus. On the way we stopped at a hardware store and I made a copy of the key, so that she could let herself into the apartment. The next morning before I left for work she asked me for a few dollars. I parted with them reluctantly but I knew that this, too, was now normal. When I came home from work there was a potato peeler in the kitchen drawer, and a tablecloth on the table, and chicken curry made with fresh garlic and ginger on the stove. We did not have a television in those days. After dinner I read the newspaper, while Mala sat at the kitchen table, working on a cardigan for herself with more of the bright blue wool, or writing letters home.

Word meanings
fragrance: a pleasant, sweet smell.
Reluctantly: unwilling and hesitant; disinclined.
cardigan: a knitted jumper fastening down the front.

Explanation of the above passage—He waited to get used to her, to her being next to him, at his table and in his bed, but after a week they were still like strangers. He still was not used to coming home to an apartment that smelled of cooked rice, and seeing that the sink in the bathroom was always wiped clean, their two toothbrushes next to each other, and a bar of Pears soap from India in the soap dish. He was not used to the smell of the coconut oil she rubbed into her hair every other night, or the soft sound her bracelets made when she moved around the apartment. In the mornings, she was always awake before him. The first morning when he went into the kitchen, she had warmed up the leftover food and put a plate on the table with a spoonful of salt on the side, thinking he would eat rice for breakfast, like most Bengali husbands did. He told her that cereal would be fine, and the next morning when he went into the kitchen, she had already poured the cornflakes into his bowl. One morning, she walked with him down Massachusetts Avenue to MIT, where he showed her around the campus for a short time. On the way, they stopped at a hardware store, and he made a copy of the key so she could open the apartment door herself. The next morning before he left for work, she asked him for a few dollars. He gave them to her even though he didn’t really want to, but he knew that this was normal now too. When he came home from work, there was a tool for peeling potatoes in the kitchen drawer, a tablecloth on the table, and chicken curry made with fresh garlic and ginger on the stove. They did not have a television in those days. After dinner, he read the newspaper, while Mala sat at the kitchen table, knitting a sweater for herself with more of the bright blue wool, or writing letters to her family.

 

Passage: At the end of our first week, on Friday, I suggested going out. Mala set down her knitting and disappeared into the bathroom. When she emerged I regretted the suggestion; she had put on a clean silk sari and extra bracelets, and coiled her hair with a flattering side part on top of her head. She was prepared as if for a party, or at the very least for the cinema, but I had no such destination in mind. The evening air was balmy. We walked several blocks down Massachusetts Avenue, looking into the windows of restaurants and shops. Then, without thinking, I led her down the quiet street where for so many nights I had walked alone.

Word meanings 

knitting:  a method for production of textile, fabrics by interlacing yarn loops with loops of the same or other yarns.
Coiled: arranged in a series of circles, one above or inside the other
Flattering side part: a way of dividing the hair on one side of the head that is specifically chosen to enhance a person’s facial features and overall appearance.
balmy: mild and gentle weather.

Explanation of the above passage—At the end of their first week, on Friday, he suggested going out. Mala put down her knitting and went into the bathroom to get ready. When she came out, he wished he hadn’t suggested it because she was overdressed. She had put on a clean silk sari and more bracelets, and had twisted her hair with a nice side part on top of her head. She was dressed as if she was going to a party, or at least to the movies, but he had no such place in mind. The evening air felt warm and pleasant. They walked down Massachusetts Avenue for several blocks, looking into the windows of restaurants and shops. Then, without thinking, he led her down the quiet street where he had walked alone for so many nights.

 

Passage: ‘This is where I lived before you came,’ I said, stopping at Mrs Croft’s chain-link fence.
‘In such a big house?’
‘I had a small room upstairs. At the back.’
‘Who else lives there?’
‘A very old woman.’
‘With her family?’
‘Alone.’
‘But who takes care of her?’
I opened the gate. ‘For the most part she takes care of herself.’ I wondered if Mrs Croft would remember me.
I wondered if she had a new boarder to sit with her on the bench each evening. When I pressed the bell I expected the same long wait as that day of our first meeting, when I did not have a key. But this time the door was opened almost immediately, by Helen. Mrs Croft was not sitting on the bench. The bench was gone. 

Word meanings
fence: a barrier, railing, or other upright structure, typically of wood or wire, enclosing an area of ground to prevent or control access or escape.
boarder: a person who receives regular meals when staying somewhere, in return for payment or services.

Explanation of the above passage—He said that was where he had lived before she came, stopping at Mrs Croft’s fence made of connected wires.
She asked if he had lived in such a big house.
He said he had a small room upstairs, at the back.
She asked who else lived there.
He said a very old woman.
She asked if she lived with her family.
He said she lived alone.
She asked who took care of her then.
He opened the gate and said that for the most part, she took care of herself. He wondered if Mrs Croft would remember him. He wondered if she had a new person renting a room to sit with her on the seat each evening. When he pressed the doorbell, he expected to wait a long time like the day they first met, when he did not have a key. But this time, Helen opened the door almost right away. Mrs Croft was not sitting on the seat. The seat was gone.

 

Passage: ‘Hello there,’ Helen said, smiling with her bright pink lips at Mala.
‘Mother’s in the parlour. Will you be visiting awhile?’
‘As you wish, madame.’
‘Then I think I’ll run to the store, if you don’t mind. She had a little accident. We can’t leave her alone these days, not even for a minute.’
I locked the door after Helen and walked into the parlour. Mrs Croft was lying flat on her back, her head on a peach-coloured cushion, a thin white quilt spread over her body. Her hands were folded together on top of her chest. When she saw me she pointed at the sofa and told me to sit down. I took my place as directed but Mala wandered over to the piano and sat on the bench which was now positioned where it belonged.
‘I broke my hip! ’ Mrs Croft announced, as if no time had passed.
‘Oh dear, madame.’
‘I fell off the bench!’
‘I am so sorry, madame.’
‘It was the middle of the night! Do you know what I did, boy?’
 I shook my head.
‘I called the police!’
She stared up at the ceiling and grinned sedately, exposing a crowded row of long grey teeth. Not one was missing. ‘What do you say to that, boy?’
As stunned as I was, I knew what I had to say. With no hesitation at all, I cried out, ‘Splendid!’
Mala laughed then. Her voice was full of kindness, her eyes bright with amusement. I had never heard her laugh before, and it was loud enough so that Mrs Croft had heard, too. She turned to Mala and glared.
‘Who is she, boy?’
‘She is my wife, madame.’
Mrs Croft pressed her head at an angle against the cushion to get a better look, ‘Can you play the piano?’
‘No, madame,’ Mala replied.
‘Then stand up!’ 

Word meanings
sedately: In a calm, quiet, or composed manner; serenely. It often implies a sense of dignity and a lack of hurry.

Explanation of the above passage—Helen said hello there, smiling with her bright pink lips at Mala. She asked if they would be visiting for a while, saying her mother was in the living room.

He replied that they would do as she wished, calling her madame. Then, Helen said she thought she would go to the store, if they didn’t mind. She explained that her mother had had a small accident and that they couldn’t leave her alone these days, not even for a minute.He locked the door after Helen left and walked into the living room. Mrs Croft was lying flat on her back, her head on a peach-colored pillow, with a thin white blanket over her body. Her hands were folded together on top of her chest. When she saw him, she pointed at the sofa and told him to sit down. He sat where she directed, but Mala walked over to the piano and sat on the bench, which was now in its proper place. Mrs Croft announced that she had broken her hip, as if no time had passed. He said, “Oh dear,” calling her madame. She said she had fallen off the bench. He said he was so sorry, calling her madame. She said it was the middle of the night and asked him, calling him boy, if he knew what she had done. He shook his head. She said she had called the police. She looked up at the ceiling and smiled calmly, showing a full row of long grey teeth. Not one was missing. She then asked him, calling him boy, what he thought of that. Even though he was very surprised, he knew what he had to say. Without any hesitation, he shouted “splendid!” Mala laughed then. Her voice was kind, and her eyes were bright with amusement. He had never heard her laugh before, and it was loud enough for Mrs Croft to hear too. Mrs Croft turned to Mala and looked at her angrily. She asked him, calling him boy, who Mala was. He replied that she was his wife, calling her madame. Mrs Croft turned her head to the side on the pillow to see better and asked Mala if she could play the piano. Mala replied that she could not, calling her madame. Then, Mrs Croft told her to stand up.

 

Passage: Mala rose to her feet, adjusting the end of her sari over her head and holding it to her chest, and, for the first time since her arrival, I felt sympathy. I remembered my first days in London, learning how to take the tube to Russell Square, riding an escalator for the first time, being unable to understand that when the man cried ‘piper’ it meant ‘paper’, being unable to decipher, for a whole year, that the conductor said ‘mind the gap’ as the train pulled away from each station. Like me, Mala had travelled far from home. Not knowing where she was going, or what she would find, for no reason other than to be my wife. As strange as it seemed, I knew in my heart that one day her death would affect me and, stranger still, that mine would affect her. I wanted somehow to explain this to Mrs Croft, who was still scrutinising Mala from top to toe with what seemed to be placid disdain. I wondered if Mrs Croft had ever seen a woman in a sari, with a dot painted on her forehead and bracelets stacked on her wrists. I wondered what she would object to. I wondered if she could see the red dye still vivid on Mala’s feet, all but obscured by the bottom edge of her sari. At last Mrs Croft declared, with equal measures of disbelief and delight I knew well:
‘She is a perfect lady!’
Now it was I who laughed. I did so quietly and Mrs Croft did not hear me. But Mala had heard, and, for the first time, we looked at each other and smiled. 

Word meanings
Decipher: To succeed in understanding, interpreting, or identifying (something obscure).
Scrutinising: Examining or inspecting closely and critically.
Placid: Calm and peaceful, with little movement or disturbance.
Disdain: The feeling that someone or something is unworthy of one’s consideration or respect; contempt.
Obscured: Kept from being seen or noticed; hidden.

Explanation of the above passage—Mala stood up, fixing the end of her sari over her head and holding it to her chest. For the first time since she had arrived, he felt sorry for her. He remembered his own first days in London, learning how to take the subway to Russell Square, riding an escalator for the first time, not being able to understand that when the man shouted ‘piper’ it meant ‘paper’. He also remembered not being able to understand, for a whole year, that the train person said ‘mind the gap’ as the train moved away from each station. Like him, Mala had traveled far from her home. She did not know where she was going or what she would find, for no other reason than to be his wife. As strange as it seemed, he knew in his heart that one day her death would affect him, and even stranger, that his death would affect her. He wanted to somehow explain this to Mrs Croft, who was still looking at Mala from head to toe with what seemed like calm dislike. He wondered if Mrs Croft had ever seen a woman in a sari, with a dot painted on her forehead and bracelets on her wrists. He wondered what she would not like. He wondered if she could see the red color still bright on Mala’s feet, almost hidden by the bottom edge of her sari. Finally, Mrs Croft said, with the same surprise and happiness that he knew well, that Mala was a perfect lady.

Now, he was the one who laughed. He did it quietly, and Mrs Croft did not hear him. But Mala had heard, and for the first time, they looked at each other and smiled.

 

Passage: I like to think of that moment in Mrs Croft’s parlour as the moment when the distance between Mala and me began to lessen. Although we were not yet fully in love, I like to think of the months that followed as a honeymoon of sorts. Together we explored the city and met other Bengalis, some of whom are still friends today. We discovered that a man named Bill sold fresh fish on Prospect Street, and that a shop in Harvard Square, called Cardullo’s, sold bay leaves and cloves. In the evenings we walked to the Charles River to watch sailboats drift across the water, or had ice cream cones in Harvard Yard. We bought an Instamatic camera with which to document our life together, and I took pictures of her posing in front of the Prudential building so that she could send them to her parents. At night we kissed, shy at first but quickly bold, and discovered pleasure and solace in each other’s arms. I told her about my voyage on the SS Roma, and about Finsbury Park and the YMCA, and my evenings on the bench with Mrs Croft. When I told her stories about my mother, she wept. It was Mala who consoled me when, reading the Globe one evening, I came across Mrs Croft’s obituary. I had not thought of her in several months—by then those six weeks of the summer were already a remote interlude in my past—but when I learned of her death I was stricken, so much so that when Mala looked up from her knitting she found me staring at the wall, the newspaper neglected in my lap, unable to speak. Mrs Croft’s was the first death I mourned in America, for, hers was the first life I had admired; she had left this world at last, ancient and alone, never to return. 

Word meanings
Instamatic camera: A type of inexpensive, easy-to-use camera introduced by Kodak in the 1960s, known for its drop-in film cartridge.
Obituary: A notice of a death, especially in a newspaper, typically including a brief account of the person’s life.
Interlude: An intervening period; a pause or break.
Stricken: Seriously affected by an unpleasant feeling or condition.
Mourned: Felt or showed deep sorrow or regret for (someone’s death or loss).

Explanation of the above passage—He liked to think of that moment in Mrs Croft’s living room as the time when the distance between Mala and him started to reduce. Even though they were not yet completely in love, he liked to think of the months that followed as a kind of honeymoon. Together, they explored the city and met other Bengali people, some of whom were still their friends. They found out that a man named Bill sold fresh fish on Prospect Street, and that a shop in Harvard Square, called Cardullo’s, sold bay leaves and cloves. In the evenings, they walked to the Charles River to watch sailboats drift on the water, or they ate ice cream cones in Harvard Yard. They bought a simple camera to take pictures of their life together, and he took pictures of her posing in front of the Prudential building so she could send them to her parents. At night, they kissed, shy at first but quickly becoming bold, and found pleasure and comfort in each other’s arms. He told her about his trip on the SS Roma, and about Finsbury Park and the YMCA, and his evenings sitting with Mrs Croft. When he told her stories about his mother, she cried. Mala was the one who comforted him when, reading the newspaper one evening, he saw Mrs Croft’s death announcement. He had not thought about her in several months—by then, those six weeks of the summer were already a distant memory—but when he learned that she had died, he was very sad. So much so that when Mala looked up from her knitting, she saw him staring at the wall, the newspaper forgotten in his lap, unable to speak. Mrs Croft’s was the first death he mourned in America, because hers was the first life he had admired. She had finally left this world, very old and alone, never to come back.

 

Passage: As for me, I have not strayed much farther: Mala and I live in a town about twenty miles from Boston, on a treelined street much like Mrs Croft’s, in a house we own, with a garden that saves us from buying tomatoes in summer, and room for guests. We are American citizens now so that we can collect social security when it is time. Though we visit Calcutta every few years, and bring back more drawstring pyjamas and Darjeeling tea, we have decided to grow old here. I work in a small college library. We have a son who attends Harvard University. Mala no longer drapes the end of her sari over her head, or weeps at night for her parents but, occasionally, she weeps for our son. So we drive to Cambridge to visit him, or bring him home for a weekend, so that he can eat rice with us with his hands and speak in Bengali, things we sometimes worry he will no longer do after we die. 

Word meanings
strayed: move away aimlessly from a group or from the right course or place.
drapes: arrange (cloth or clothing) loosely or casually on or round something.
weeps: shed tears.

Explanation of the above passage—As for him, he had not moved much farther. Mala and he lived in a town about twenty miles from Boston, on a street with trees, much like Mrs Croft’s street. They lived in a house they owned, with a garden that helped them not have to buy tomatoes in the summer, and enough room for guests. They were American citizens now so they could get money from the government when they were old. Even though they went to Calcutta every few years and brought back more loose pants and Darjeeling tea, they had decided to grow old there. He worked in a small college library. They had a son who went to Harvard University. Mala no longer covered her head with the end of her sari or cried at night for her parents. But sometimes, she cried for their son. So they drove to Cambridge to visit him, or brought him home for a weekend so he could eat rice with them using his hands and speak in Bengali, things they sometimes worried he would stop doing after they died.

 

Passage: Whenever we make that drive, I always make it a point to take Massachusetts Avenue, in spite of the traffic. I barely recognise the buildings now but each time I am there I return instantly to those six weeks as if they were only the other day, and I slow down and point to Mrs Croft’s street, saying to my son, here was my first home in America where I lived with a woman who was 103. ‘Remember?’ Mala says, and smiles, amazed, as I am, that there was ever a time that we were strangers. My son always expresses his astonishment, not at Mrs Croft’s age, but at how little I paid in rent, a nearly inconceivable amount to him as a flag on the moon was to a woman born in 1866. In my son’s eyes I see the ambition that had first hurled me across the world. In a few years he will graduate and pave his way, alone and unprotected. But I remind myself that he has a father who is still living, a mother who is happy and strong. Whenever he is discouraged, I tell him that if I can survive on three continents, then there is no obstacle he cannot conquer. While the astronauts, heroes forever, spent mere hours on the moon, I have remained in this new world for nearly thirty years. I know that my achievement is quite ordinary. I am not the only man to seek his fortune far from home and certainly I am not the first. Still, there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have travelled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination.

Word meanings
Astonishment: surprised
Inconceivable: Impossible to imagine or believe.
Hurled: Threw something with great force.
Pave his way: To make it easier for him to achieve something.
Obstacle: Something that blocks one’s way or prevents progress.
Bewildered: Confused and perplexed.

Explanation of the above passage—Whenever they made that drive, he always made sure to take Massachusetts Avenue, even though there was a lot of traffic. He hardly recognized the buildings anymore, but every time he was there, he instantly went back to those six weeks as if they were just yesterday. He would slow down and point to Mrs Croft’s street, telling his son that was his first home in America, where he lived with a woman who was one hundred and three years old. Mala would say, “Remember?” and smile, as amazed as he was that there had ever been a time when they were strangers. His son always showed his surprise, not at Mrs Croft’s age, but at how little rent he had paid, an amount that was almost impossible for him to imagine, just like the flag on the moon was for a woman born in eighteen sixty-six. In his son’s eyes, he saw the ambition that had first pushed him across the world. In a few years, his son would graduate and make his own way, alone and without protection. But he reminded himself that his son had a father who was still alive and a mother who was happy and strong. Whenever his son felt discouraged, he told him that if he could survive on three continents, then there was no problem he could not overcome. While the astronauts, heroes forever, had spent only a few hours on the moon, he had stayed in this new world for almost thirty years. He knew that his achievement was quite normal. He was not the only man to look for a better life far from home, and he was certainly not the first. Still, there were times when he was amazed by every mile he had traveled, every meal he had eaten, every person he had known, and every room he had slept in. As ordinary as it all seemed, there were times when it was beyond his imagination.

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Conclusion 

The story The Third and Final Continent by Jhumpa Lahiri is about the narrator adjusts to his new life in America, deals with cultural differences, and finds a sense of belonging.

Students can take help from this post to understand the lesson and also learn the difficult word meanings to get a better grasp over The Third and Final Continent. This lesson includes the summary of The Third and Final Continent which will help students of class 11 to get a quick recap of the story.

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