Verghese Kurien — I Too Had A Dream Questions & Answers | Class 8 English | CBSE NCERT

(b) — In today's fast-paced world people prefer instant communication like the telephone.

(b) — A phone call gives only immediate, short-lived pleasure.

(b) — A letter conveys views and becomes a possession re-read 'over the years, with great, abiding pleasure'.

False — he says a phone call gives only 'an immediate but fleeting joy'.

He believes a letter, unlike a call, becomes a treasured possession. It can be re-read over the years and will give Siddharth a deeper understanding of his grandfather's life and reasons for his service.

'Abiding' means continuing for a long time — the pleasure of reading a preserved letter lasts for years, unlike the fleeting joy of a phone call.

(b) — He calls them 'these jottings of mine', meaning brief written notes.

(b) — He suggests Siddharth may pick up the jottings again 'a couple of decades or more from now'.

(b) — The jottings will explain his work and the reasons behind his life of service.

The nation's farmers.

Because it records the days just before the world entered the twenty-first century, giving later readers a true glimpse of the world their grandparents lived in and knew.

With those of his own generation, or even younger people, so they can get a glimpse of the world their grandparents lived in and knew.

(b) — The noblest task was to contribute in whatever way possible to building the India of their dreams.

(d) — The dream speaks of freedom, dignity, freedom from hunger and poverty, equality and world standing — not military power.

(b) — He realised that dedicating himself to the farmers meant giving up other careers he could have followed.

cooperative.

He agreed to work for a small cooperative of dairy farmers who were trying to gain control over their lives — the choice that transformed his life into one of service.

It shows he was modest and honest with himself — he accepted without pride that his life's direction meant sacrificing personal ambitions, and he honoured that choice.

(d) — He mentions metallurgy, the Army and going to the US, but not teaching.

(b) — 'Somewhere, deep down, I knew I could make a more meaningful contribution by working here in Anand.'

(b) — Events carried him to a certain time and place where a choice transformed his life.

Anand, Gujarat.

'Envisioned' means imagined or expected something to happen in a particular way — service to farmers was not the career he had pictured for himself.

It shows that he valued meaningful service and contribution above money, rank or personal success. He measured a career by the good it did, not by the comfort or fame it brought.

(b) — Knowing Anand lacked even simple comforts, she ardently supported his choice to live and work there.

(b) — She supported his choice wholeheartedly and passionately.

(b) — Her standing by him gave him 'everlasting strength' and poise in his duties.

False — it 'could not offer even the simple comforts that we take for granted today'.

Because she accepted a hard life in Anand without simple comforts, standing by her husband so that he could pursue his work for the dairy farmers — a sacrifice that shaped his entire life of service.

'Poise' means calmness and confident composure — she ensured he carried out his responsibilities with dignity and confidence.

(b) — He emphasises that every recognition is a recognition of the achievements of many people associated with him.

(c) — He has 'often spoken of integrity as the most important of these values'.

(a) — He inherited values from his parents and other family elders, and saw them in his mentor and supporter Tribhuvandas Patel.

yourself.

He defines integrity — and personal integrity at that — as being honest to yourself; if you are always honest with yourself, being honest with others takes little effort.

Because he is humble and knows that great work is never done alone. His achievements were possible through the efforts of many associates, and acknowledging them reflects his honesty and modesty.

(c) — He says failure 'is about not putting in your best effort and not contributing, however modestly, to the common good'.

(d) — The writer lists all three as everyday forms of the common good.

(b) — A privilege is a special gift; wasting such a gift is wrong.

True.

One should use one's talents to the best of one's ability and contribute somehow to the common good every day.

(Sample answer) I helped a classmate who was struggling with mathematics before the exams, and I volunteered to keep our classroom library in order — small everyday acts that contributed to the common good.

(b) — Most of us compare ourselves with a relative, an acquaintance, or someone we barely know.

(b) — Understanding ourselves helps us value what we have rather than long for what we don't.

(b) — On looking closely, we realise the 'happier' people we compared ourselves with were only images, not reality.

correlation.

The secret is to stop comparing ourselves with others and to understand and cherish what we have, rather than what we don't have.

We learn to accept life's ups and downs calmly, without losing our happiness; since troubles are normal, our contentment should not depend on perfect circumstances.

(b) — The President awarded him the Padma Vibhushan at a ceremony in Delhi in 1999.

(b) — He slipped the medal around his neck, looked at it in awe and asked if he could keep it.

(b) — They said the medal was 'yours as much as it was mine', but he should not be satisfied merely keeping it.

Delhi.

The challenge was to earn his own reward for the work he did in his lifetime, instead of being satisfied with merely keeping his grandfather's award.

Because inherited honours cannot be a substitute for one's own effort; true satisfaction and true rewards come from one's own work and contribution to society.

(b) — Being strong enough to delight in others' joy rather than envy it.

(b) — The sentence lists exactly these three qualities.

(b) — Wisdom lies in knowing that abundance exists for all, which frees us from envy.

brave.

When we are brave enough to love, strong enough to rejoice in another's happiness, and wise enough to know that there is enough to go around for all.

(Sample answer) Rejoicing in another's happiness seems hardest, because envy often comes naturally to us; celebrating someone else's success needs real inner strength and a generous heart.

(b) — He dedicates them to Siddharth and to the millions of children of his generation in the country.

(b) — He hopes they will be inspired to work tirelessly for the larger good of the country and humanity.

(a) — Rewards earned through work for the country and humanity are 'the only true rewards for a life well-spent'.

musings.

It suggests working with unflagging energy and dedication in whatever field one chooses, serving the larger good rather than giving up when things become difficult.

He closes with 'With my fondest love, (V Kurien)'. This shows the deep affection between grandfather and grandson — the letter is not a lecture but a loving gift of wisdom.

The letter was written by Dr Verghese Kurien from Anand in 2005. It is addressed to his grandson Siddharth, and dedicated also to the millions of children of his generation in the country.

According to him, a phone call gives only 'an immediate but fleeting joy', whereas a letter conveys concerns and views and becomes a possession that can be treasured and re-read over the years with great, abiding pleasure.

He calls them 'jottings' in the beginning of the letter and later refers to his reflections as 'musings'. He hopes they will give Siddharth a deeper understanding of his life of service.

He started his working life soon after India became independent. The noblest task in those days was to contribute towards building an India of one's dreams — free from hunger and poverty, where people lived with equal respect and love.

He dreamed of a nation where people would hold their heads high in freedom, be free from hunger and poverty, live with equal respect and love for one another, and be counted among the foremost nations of the world.

He chose to live and work in Anand, Gujarat, for a small cooperative of dairy farmers. Though he could have had other careers, he knew deep down that he could make a more meaningful contribution there.

He could have pursued a career in metallurgy and become the chief executive of a large company, taken a commission in the Indian Army and perhaps retired as a general, or left for the US and become a highly successful NRI.

Knowing that life in Anand could not offer even the simple comforts taken for granted today, she ardently supported his choice to live and work there. Standing by him gave the writer everlasting strength to shoulder his responsibilities with poise.

He always emphasises that the recognition belongs to the achievements of the many people with whom he had the privilege to be associated, and that his contributions were possible only because he consistently adhered to certain values.

Tribhuvandas Patel was Dr Kurien's mentor and supporter in Anand. Kurien saw in him the same values he had inherited from his parents and other family elders.

He says integrity — and personal integrity at that — is being honest to yourself; if you are always honest to yourself, it does not take much effort to always be honest with others.

Real failure is not about not succeeding; it is about not putting in your best effort and not contributing, however modestly, to the common good.

He says most of us compare ourselves with someone we think is happier — a relative, an acquaintance, or someone we barely know. But on looking closely we realise those were only images of perfection, which helps us cherish what we have rather than what we don't.

He was awarded the Padma Vibhushan by the President of India at a magnificent ceremony in Delhi in 1999.

Siddharth had slipped the medal around his neck, looked at it in awe and asked if he could keep it. His grandparents replied that the medal was as much his as the writer's, but that he should earn his own reward for the work he did in his lifetime.

Being brave enough to love, strong enough to rejoice in another's happiness, and wise enough to know that there is enough to go around for all.

'Fleeting' means momentary or short-lived. Kurien says speaking on the telephone gives only 'an immediate but fleeting joy', unlike the lasting pleasure of a written letter.

'Poise' means calm and confident composure. The grandmother's support ensured that Kurien shouldered his responsibilities with poise.

He wrote it so that years later Siddharth would gain a deeper understanding of what his grandfather had done and why he pursued a life of service to the nation's farmers, and would be inspired to work for the larger good.

He says it appears in many forms — a friend may need help, a teacher may be looking for a volunteer, or the community may need a contribution. There is always a lot waiting to be done if we look around.

Dr Kurien wrote the letter because he believed writing, unlike a phone call, becomes a treasured possession that can be re-read over the years with abiding pleasure. He hopes that a couple of decades later, the jottings will give Siddharth a deeper understanding of what he has done and why he pursued a life of service to the nation's farmers. He also dedicates the musings to the millions of children of Siddharth's generation, hoping they will be inspired to go bravely into the world and work tirelessly for the larger good of the country and humanity.

Fifty years earlier, he agreed to work for a small cooperative of dairy farmers in Anand who were trying to gain control over their lives. He realised, in humility, that choosing to lead one kind of life means putting aside other options — he gave up careers in metallurgy, the Army, or becoming a successful NRI in the US. The choice reveals his humility, his sense of purpose and his belief that a meaningful contribution matters more than money, rank or comfort.

The grandmother made an equally important choice. She knew that life in Anand in those days could not offer even the simple comforts people take for granted today, yet she ardently supported her husband's decision to live and work there. Her choice to stand by him gave him everlasting strength and ensured that he shouldered his responsibilities with poise. Without her quiet sacrifice and support, his long life of service to the farmers would have been much harder, if not impossible.

He says his contributions were possible only because he consistently adhered to certain values — values inherited from his parents and family elders, and values he saw in his mentor and supporter Tribhuvandas Patel. He calls integrity the most important value because integrity, and personal integrity at that, is being honest to yourself. If you are always honest to yourself, it does not take much effort to always be honest with others — inner honesty is the root of all outer honesty.

He teaches that life is a privilege and to waste it would be wrong. In living this privilege, one must accept responsibility for oneself, always use one's talents to the best of one's ability and contribute somehow to the common good, which presents itself every day — a friend needing help, a teacher looking for a volunteer, a community needing a contribution. Most importantly, he redefines failure: it is not about not succeeding, but about not putting in one's best effort and not contributing, however modestly, to the common good.

He observes that anything can go wrong at any time and mostly does, yet there is little correlation between people's circumstances and their happiness. Most people compare themselves with someone they think is happier, but on looking closely they find only images of perfection. His advice — cherish what you have rather than what you don't — is especially relevant today, when social media constantly tempts young people to compare their lives with others' polished, unreal appearances.

In 1999, at a magnificent ceremony in Delhi, the President of India awarded Dr Kurien the Padma Vibhushan. His grandson Siddharth, who had accompanied him, slipped the medal around his neck, looked at it in awe and innocently asked if he could keep it. The grandparents replied that the medal was as much his as the writer's, but that he should not be satisfied merely keeping it — the challenge before him was to earn his own reward for the work he did in his lifetime. The lesson is that true achievement cannot be inherited; each generation must earn its own rewards through its own effort.

He wanted his wisdom to outlive him. He knew that a letter, unlike a phone call, is a possession to be treasured and re-read, so the letter itself demonstrated the very message it contained. As he had no blueprint to hand over except his values, he chose to pass on his life's lessons — integrity, service, responsibility and contentment — in a personal form that Siddharth and millions of children of his generation could return to again and again.

In the closing lines, Kurien tells Siddharth that if he works tirelessly in his chosen field for the larger good of the country and of humanity, the rewards that come from such work are the only true rewards of a life well-spent. The statement means that honours gained through selfless service — like the Padma Vibhushan Kurien himself earned — carry real satisfaction, whereas wealth, comfort or inherited medals without effort do not. Even a national honour, he hints, matters only as the fruit of work done for others.

The letter conveys that selfless service is the most meaningful way to spend a life. Kurien chose the difficult path of serving dairy farmers in Anand over comfortable, prestigious careers, and that choice transformed not only his life but the lives of countless farmers who gained control over their own lives. He teaches that such work multiplies: he credits his recognition to 'the achievements of many people', showing that one person's service inspires and enables others. If every generation works 'for the larger good of the country, for the larger good of humanity', society improves steadily — which is why he dedicates his musings to millions of children.

The letter reveals Dr Verghese Kurien as a man of wisdom, humility and deep conviction. He is humble — he writes 'in humility' about his choices, shares the credit of every recognition with 'the achievements of many people', and never boasts of the Padma Vibhushan. He is principled: he calls integrity the most important value and defines it as being honest to yourself first. He is selfless and patriotic — he gave up careers in metallurgy, the Army and life as a successful NRI in the US because he 'knew I could make a more meaningful contribution' in Anand, serving the nation's farmers. He is thoughtful and far-sighted — he writes a letter rather than making a call because writing becomes a treasured possession, and he addresses not just Siddharth but millions of children of his generation. He is loving and gentle — the tone throughout is affectionate, recalling the innocent moment when Siddharth asked to keep his medal, and closing 'with my fondest love'. He is also wise about life: he teaches that failure is not the absence of success but the absence of effort and contribution, that happiness depends on cherishing what we have, and that a full life needs the bravery to love, the strength to rejoice in another's happiness and the wisdom to know there is enough for all. Above all, he is a devoted servant of the common good.

The central theme of the letter is a life of purpose lived for the larger good. Dr Kurien looks back on the choice that transformed his life — working for a small cooperative of dairy farmers in Anand — and distils it into lessons for his grandson Siddharth and for the children of his generation. The key messages are: choosing one meaningful path means putting aside other options; life is a privilege that must not be wasted; one must use one's talents to the best of one's ability and contribute every day to the common good; integrity — being honest to yourself — is the most important value; failure lies in not trying and not contributing, not in not succeeding; happiness comes from cherishing what we have instead of comparing ourselves with others; and true rewards come only from work done for the country and humanity. He hopes the readers will be 'inspired enough to go bravely out into the world and work tirelessly' in their chosen fields. The letter thus hands over not wealth but a compass — a set of values to guide a life well-spent.

Integrity heads the list: 'I have often spoken of integrity as the most important of these values... integrity—is being honest to yourself. If you are always honest to yourself, it does not take much effort in always being honest with others.' Service and duty come next: 'service to our nation's farmers' became his life, chosen because 'I knew I could make a more meaningful contribution by working here in Anand, Gujarat'. Humility: he credits his recognition to 'the achievements of many people with whom I had a privilege to be associated with'. Responsibility and effort: 'you must accept responsibility for yourself, always use your talents to the best of your ability and contribute somehow to the common good.' Contentment: he warns against comparing ourselves with 'someone we think is happier' and urges us to 'cherish what we have, rather than what we don't have'. Generosity and love: the full life needs being 'brave enough to love, strong enough to rejoice in another's happiness and wise enough to know that there is enough to go around for all'. Finally, gratitude and family values shine through his tribute to his wife who 'ardently supported' him, and his 'fondest love' for his grandson.

Dr Kurien's letter is directly addressed to 'the millions of other children of your generation in our country', so its application begins with us. We can apply his lesson of choice by deciding early to pursue work that is meaningful, not merely glamorous or well-paid — choosing a path for the contribution it makes. His idea of the common good 'presenting itself every day' can be practised at once: helping a classmate with a difficult lesson, volunteering when a teacher needs one, joining community clean-up drives, or assisting elderly neighbours. His definition of failure frees us from the fear of marks and ranks: what matters is putting in our best effort and contributing, however modestly. His warning about comparison is vital in the age of social media — instead of envying others' 'images of perfection', we can practise gratitude for what we have. His insistence on integrity means being honest in examinations, with friends, and above all with ourselves. Finally, his call to 'work tirelessly in your chosen field for the larger good of the country' reminds us that education is not for personal gain alone but for the service of the nation and humanity — the only source of 'true rewards for a life well-spent'.

My dearest Thatha, I write to you two decades after you penned your jottings to me from Anand in 2005, and I confess with a smile that you were right — I did not read it all right away, but today I picked it up again and could not put it down. Your words about the telephone's 'fleeting joy' and a letter's 'abiding pleasure' are truer than ever in my world of instant messages. I now understand what you did — how you set aside the careers in metallurgy, the Army and America because 'somewhere, deep down' you knew serving the farmers of Anand was your more meaningful contribution. I understand too what Ammachi's quiet choice gave you, and how values from your parents, your elders and Tribhuvandas Patel shaped everything. Thatha, I have tried to live by your lessons. When I failed my first big venture, I remembered your words that failure is 'not putting in your best effort and not contributing' — so I started again. When I envied a friend's success, I learnt to 'rejoice in another's happiness' and found my own peace. I look for the common good every day, and it is always waiting, just as you promised — a friend to help, a classmate to guide, a community to serve. I have not yet earned a medal like your Padma Vibhushan, but I am working for it in my own chosen field, for the larger good of our country, as you asked. You told me the rewards that come from such work 'are the only true rewards for a life well-spent'. I believe you now. With fondest love and gratitude — your Siddharth.

Dr Kurien makes this statement at the very heart of his letter, while passing on what life has taught him. By calling life a 'privilege', he reminds Siddharth that existence itself is a gift — not an entitlement — and a gift carries the duty to be used well. He explains how: 'In living this privilege called "life", you must accept responsibility for yourself, always use your talents to the best of your ability and contribute somehow to the common good.' The letter shows that he practised this himself. He treated his own talents as a trust, spending fifty years serving a small cooperative of dairy farmers in Anand rather than pursuing comfortable, prestigious careers. He wasted nothing — not his education, not his opportunities, not his energy — and even his failures taught him, for he redefined failure as not putting in one's best effort. His treatment of the Padma Vibhushan medal carries the same idea: honours must be earned by work, not merely kept, because a life is measured by contribution. He extends the thought to happiness: instead of wasting life in comparison and envy, we should 'cherish what we have'. To waste life, in his view, is to hoard talents, avoid responsibility and leave the common good undone — for the common good 'will present itself to you in many forms every day'. For us, therefore, every day is an invitation to make the privilege worthwhile.

My dear young friends, good morning to you all. Let me begin with a small family story. In 1999, when the President of India conferred on me the Padma Vibhushan, my little grandson slipped the medal around his neck, gazed at it in awe and asked innocently, 'May I keep it?' We told him: of course, this medal is as much yours as it is mine — but do not be satisfied merely in keeping my award. The challenge before you is to earn your own reward for the work you do in your lifetime. That, children, is my message to you today. Life is a privilege, and to waste it would be wrong. Accept responsibility for yourselves, use your talents to the best of your ability, and contribute somehow to the common good — it is all around you, waiting: a friend who needs help, a teacher who needs a volunteer, a community that needs your contribution. And remember what failure really is. It is not about not succeeding; it is about not putting in your best effort, and not contributing, however modestly. When I was young, I too had glittering choices — industry, the Army, America. But somewhere, deep down, I knew I could make a more meaningful contribution working among the dairy farmers of Anand. Hold on to your integrity, for integrity is being honest to yourself; be honest there first, and honesty with others will follow easily. If you work tirelessly in your chosen field for the larger good of our country and humanity, the rewards that come to you then — and only those — will be the true rewards of a life well-spent. Thank you, and work bravely!