SAMPLE

Question 1) You are Portia, in sixteenth century Venice. Taking into consideration the socio-political- religious climate of the time, write a diary entry in approximately 150-200 words, for the day when you await the suitors to take part in the lottery of caskets.

 

Question 2) Write a Diary Entry for the Old Man, the protagonist in Ernest Hemingway’s story, ‘The Old Man at the Bridge’ who has become a symbol of war – those “without politics”. Displaced, disoriented and alone, he is faced with inevitability of death.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

 

Question 1) 

March 18, 16002

Dear Diary,

My day hasn’t gone well as I am really depressed about the fact that I can’t choose my own suitor nor can I refuse, with whom I can spend my own life, just because of my dead father’s will. I do respect my father’s will, but personally feel that the whole idea of the ‘Lottery Test’ is just too much. It’s just not something a living daughter would like her dead father to control! But I would live like Diana, if it lies in my destiny as I truly believe in my father.

I just kept feeling melancholic and downhearted that how my fate was determined by a love test, when it was time to tell the suitors and notify them about the caskets that each suitor had to choose from amongst the three caskets of gold, silver and lead. And also that the one who makes the right choice would win my hand in marriage..was just uncertain.

Some suitors like The Neapolitan Prince could talk of his Horses and the Count Palatine frowned so much that marrying him would be like marrying a death’s head with a bone in his mouth. Monsieur Le Bon had no personality of his own. Baron Falconbridge from England was strangely and unmannerly dressed and spoke all languages which were not known to me! Scottish lord was not pleasant either. The Duke of Saxony’s nephew was a drunkard and therefore I also planned a way to tempt him to choose the wrong casket. They tried to impress me though, but left me speechless, concluding that I would never want such suitors to win my hand in marriage. The Lottery Test was amongst three caskets of gold, silver and lead, each with an inscription on its lid, inside a room in my mansion.

I literally hoped that most of the suitors would go back, after being notified that once they took the risk of taking part in the lottery and chose the wrong casket which did not include my portrait, they could never speak to a woman in the way of marriage. I was so delighted to know that most of them were fearful and did not had the courage to participate in the Lottery Test….But unfortunately, when I got to know that there were still some suitors who wanted to take the Lottery test and win my hand in marriage, I was quite anxious, even though all I wanted was Bassanio, the handsome Venetian, who had once came to Belmont! I passed my time with so much difficulty when I came across The Prince of Morocco who kept boasting about himself, and trust me.. his complexion was such a gentle riddance when he chose the wrong casket.

I wish I could choose my own suitor, if it was in my destiny. I expect tomorrow’s day to be a bit better and hope no suitors win my hand in marriage!

 

We’ll see what happens. Since today was a long day..now I’ll take a little sleep.

 

Love, 

Portia

——————————————-—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Question 2)  

January 31, 1938

Dear Diary,

I don’t know if I’ll be there tomorrow, as today I was forced to leave my hometown, San Carlos because of the artillery fire from the enemy. I had walked so much that I couldn’t walk any further. I was quite lonely as I had anxiously left my family that were my two goats, my cat and my four pair of pigeons, because of the captain’s orders.

Though everyone was fleeing across the pontoon bridge running or moving in their vehicles to protect themselves from the impending attack by the enemy troops in this typical warzone..peasants moved in the ankle deep dust and soldiers helped to push the mule-drawn carts to cross the pontoon bridge. 

But, I was too concerned for the safety of my family, specifically my goats, since the cat could take care of itself and I had left the cage open for the pigeons to fly..and wanted to share my worry with someone, until I gratefully met an army scout who was quite generous and tried to convince me to go towards Barcelona, a safer destination, far away from this warzone. But since, I was without politics, too tired to move any further and only concerned about my family, and nor did I know anyone in that direction.. so I kept sitting at the side of the road at the pontoon bridge and thanked the soldier with whom I had shared my worry. 

It was Easter Sunday, and the Fascists were advancing toward the Ebro river. 

I didn’t even know why I meant to exist, now that I had no family, no part in war which causes death and destruction, which also took the very thing I had! 

I disheartenedly sat as helpless as my goats, struggling to overcome the guilt of leaving my family in San Carlos..too tired and old to save myself..surrendering to my fate and waiting for my impending death, still sitting at the side of the road at the pontoon bridge. 

 

Luck is all that matters now. Surrendered to my ultimate fate.

 

Love,

The Old Man

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *