These Are The Sounds I Like To Hear by Ruskin Bond | Article Explanation | line by line explanation скачать в хорошем качестве

These Are The Sounds I Like To Hear by Ruskin Bond | Article Explanation | line by line explanation

These Are The Sounds I Like To Hear an Editorial by Ruskin Bond Hi, Thank you for watching this video. Here are the life changing books I recommend to you. I Too Had A Love Story: https://amzn.to/30BIs29 The Richest Man in Babylon (English) : https://amzn.to/38ja26M The Richest Man in Babylon (Hindi) : https://amzn.to/2GixiWV Rich Dad Poor Dad (English) https://amzn.to/2RdpQCJ Rich Dad Poor Dad (Hindi) https://amzn.to/2Rrp4R6 How to Win Friends & Influence People (English) : https://amzn.to/3aqaFNZ How to Win Friends & Influence People (Hindi) : https://amzn.to/2NHHcWa Think & Grow Rich (English) https://amzn.to/2sHeai3 Think & Grow Rich (Hindi) https://amzn.to/38pGm82 All night the rain has been drumming on the corrugated tin roof. There has been no storm, no thunder, just the steady swish of a tropical downpour. It helps me to be awake; at the same time, it doesn’t keep one from sleeping. It is a good sound to read by – the rain outside, the quiet within – and, although tin roofs are given to springing unaccountable leaks, there is in general a feeling of being untouched by, and yet in touch with, the rain. Gentle rain on a tin roof is one of my favourite sounds.   And early in the morning, when the rain has stopped, there are other sounds I like to hear – a crow shaking the raindrops from his feathers and cawing rather disconsolately; babblers and bulbuls bustling in and out of bushes and long grass in search of worms and insects; the sweet, ascending trill of the Himalayan whistling thrush; dogs rushing through damp undergrowth. A cherry tree, bowed down by the heavy rain, suddenly rights itself, flinging pellets of water in my face. Some of the best sounds are made by water. The water of a mountain stream, always in a hurry, bubbling over rocks and chattering, ‘I’m late, I’m late!’ like the White Rabbit, tumbling over itself in its anxiety to reach the bottom of the hill; the sound of the sea, especially when it is far away -– or when you hear it by putting a seashell to your ear. The sound made dry and thirsty earth, as it sucks at a sprinkling of water. Or the sound of a child drinking thirstily, the water running down his chin and throat. Water gushing out of the pans on an old well outside a village while a camel moves silently round the well. Bullock-cart wheels creaking over rough country roads. The clip-clop of a pony carriage and the tinkle of its bell; and the singsong call of its driver. Bells in the hills. A school bell ringing and children’s voices drifting through an open window. A temple bell, heard faintly from across the valley. Heavy silver ankle-bells on the feet of sturdy hill women. Sheep bells heard high up on the mountainside. Do falling petals make sound? Just the tiniest and softest of sounds, like the drift of falling snow. Of course, big flowers, like dahlias, drop their petals with a very definite flop. These are showoffs, like the hawk-moth who comes flapping into the rooms at night instead of emulating the butterfly dipping lazily on the afternoon breeze. One must return to the birds for favourite sounds, and the birds of the plains differ from the birds of the hills. On a cold winter morning in the plains of northern India, if you walk some way into the jungle you will hear the familiar call of the black partridge: ‘Bhagwan teri qudrat’ it seems to cry, which means, ‘O God, great is thy might. ’The cry rises from the bushes in all directions; but an hour later not a bird is to be seen or heard and the jungle is so very still that the silence seems to shout at you. There are sounds that come from a distance, beautiful because they are far away, voices on the wind – they ‘walked upon the wings of the wind’. The cries of fishermen, out, on the river. Drums, beating rhythmically, in a distant village. The croaking of frogs, from the rainwater pond behind the house.   I mean frogs at a distance. A frog croaking beneath one’s window is as welcome as a motor horn…. Excerpt from ‘A Time For All Things’ published by Speaking Tiger. Channel Keyword: Poem Summary, Summary of poem, English Gurukul, ENGLISH GURUKUL, CBSE English, CBSE English Class, Poem summary in Hindi, Poem Analysis