you have joined the workshop of national of drama (NSD). your school is one of the century of workshop .write a letter to your friend describing about your experience.​

When i was young enough to still spend a long time buttoning my shoes in the morning, i'd listen toward the hall: daddy upstairs was shaving, in the bathroom, and mother downstairs was frying the bacon. they would begin whispering back and forth to each other up and down the stairwell. my father would whistle his phrase, my mother would try to whistle, then hum hers backi drew my buttonhook in and out and listened to it -know it was "the merry widow." the difference was, their song almost floated with laughter. how different from the record, which growled from the beginning, as if the victrola were only slowly being wound up. they kept it running between them, up and down the stairs where i was now just about ready to run clattering down and show them my shoes. what is the effect of the parallelism used in the above excerpt? it establishes the rhythm of a duet to echo the song. it expresses the same ideas. it mirrors opposite ideas. it is a paradox.

Buck did not cry out. he did not check himself, but drove in upon spitz, shoulder to shoulder, so hard that he missed the throat. they rolled over and over in the powdery snow. spitz gained his feet almost as though he had not been overthrown, slashing buck down the shoulder and leaping clear. twice his teeth clipped together, like the steel jaws of a trap, as he backed away for better footing, with lean and lifting lips that writhed and snarled. read this passage. explain what the conflict shows about buck and spitz.

What is the effect of narrator's word choice on the tone of this passage? the words "my heart shrank within itself" create a fearful tone. the words "wounded his fellow" develop a remorseful tone. the words "struck harsh upon my ears" suggest an irritated tone. the words "better-omened" set a hopeful tone. excerpt from "the cabuliwallah" by rabindranath tagore i was sitting in my study, looking through the accounts, when some one entered, saluting respectfully, and stood before me. it was rahmun the cabuliwallah. at first i did not recognise him. he had no bag, nor the long hair, nor the same vigour that he used to have. but he smiled, and i knew him again. "when did you come, rahmun? " i asked him. "last evening," he said, "i was released from jail." the words struck harsh upon my ears. i had never before talked with one who had wounded his fellow, and my heart shrank within itself when i realised this; for i felt that the day would have been better-omened had he not turned up.