List of top Verbal and Logical Ability Questions on Reading Comprehension asked in XAT

Read the following passage and answer the question below.

The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, also known as the linguistic relativity hypothesis, refers to the proposal that the particular language one speaks influences the way one thinks about reality. The linguistic relativity hypothesis focuses on structural differences among natural languages such as Hopi, Chinese, and English, and asks whether the classifications of reality implicit in such structures affect our thinking about reality. Analytically, linguistic relativity as an issue stands between two others: a semiotic-level concern with how speaking any natural language whatsoever might influence the general potential for human thinking, and a functional or discourse-level concern with how using any given language code in a particular way might influence thinking, that is, the impact of special discursive practices such as schooling and literacy on formal thought. Although analytically distinct, the three issues are intimately related in both theory and practice. For example, claims about linguistic relativity depend on understanding the general psychological mechanisms linking language to thinking, and on understanding the diverse uses of speech in discourse to accomplish acts of descriptive reference. Hence, the relation of particular linguistic structures to patterns of thinking forms only one part of the broader array of questions about the significance of language for thought. Proposals of linguistic relativity necessarily develop two linked claims among the key terms of the hypothesis, language, thought, and reality. First, languages differ significantly in their interpretations of experienced reality, both what they select for representation and how they arrange it. Second, language interpretations have influences on thought about reality more generally, whether at the individual or cultural level. Claims for linguistic relativity thus require both articulating the contrasting interpretations of reality latent in the structures of different languages, and accessing their broader influences on, or relationships to, the cognitive interpretation of reality.

Question: If the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis were to be true, which of the following conclusions would logically follow?
1. To develop vernacular languages, government should promote public debates and discourses.
2. Promote vernacular languages as medium of instruction in schools.
3. Cognitive and cultural realities are related.
Read the following passage and answer the question below.

The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, also known as the linguistic relativity hypothesis, refers to the proposal that the particular language one speaks influences the way one thinks about reality. The linguistic relativity hypothesis focuses on structural differences among natural languages such as Hopi, Chinese, and English, and asks whether the classifications of reality implicit in such structures affect our thinking about reality. Analytically, linguistic relativity as an issue stands between two others: a semiotic-level concern with how speaking any natural language whatsoever might influence the general potential for human thinking, and a functional or discourse-level concern with how using any given language code in a particular way might influence thinking, that is, the impact of special discursive practices such as schooling and literacy on formal thought. Although analytically distinct, the three issues are intimately related in both theory and practice. For example, claims about linguistic relativity depend on understanding the general psychological mechanisms linking language to thinking, and on understanding the diverse uses of speech in discourse to accomplish acts of descriptive reference. Hence, the relation of particular linguistic structures to patterns of thinking forms only one part of the broader array of questions about the significance of language for thought. Proposals of linguistic relativity necessarily develop two linked claims among the key terms of the hypothesis, language, thought, and reality. First, languages differ significantly in their interpretations of experienced reality, both what they select for representation and how they arrange it. Second, language interpretations have influences on thought about reality more generally, whether at the individual or cultural level. Claims for linguistic relativity thus require both articulating the contrasting interpretations of reality latent in the structures of different languages, and accessing their broader influences on, or relationships to, the cognitive interpretation of reality.

Question: Which of the following proverbs may be false, if the above passage were to be right?
1. If speech is silver, silence is gold.
2. When you have spoken a word, it reigns over you. When it is unspoken you reign over it.
3. Speech of yourself ought to be seldom and well chosen.
Read the following passage and answer the question below.

Demography of organisations, also called population ecology, is an interesting field. It proposes that organisational mortality processes depend upon the age and size of the organisation, as well as on characteristics of populations and environments. Moreover, there is evidence of an imprinting process, meaning that environmental conditions at certain early phases in an organisation's development have long-term consequences. In particular, organisations subject to intense competition have elevated mortality hazards at all ages. A central theme is structural inertia, the tendency for organisations to respond slowly relative to the speed of environmental change. A central argument holds that the inertia derives from the very characteristics that make organisations favoured actors in modern society in terms of reliability and formal accountability. It follows that changes in an organisation's core features are disruptive and increase mortality hazards, at least in the short run. Research on this subject tends to support this view. The concept of niche provides a framework of relative environmental variations and competition to population dynamics and segmentation. Much empirical work examines the niches of organisational populations in terms of dimensions of social, political, and economic environments. Most research in this field builds on theories of resource partition and of density dependence. Resource-partitioning theory concerns the relationship between increasing market concentration and increasing proliferation of specialists in mature industries. The key implication of this theory concerns the effects of concentration on the viability of specialist organisations, those that seek to exploit a narrow range of resources. The theory of density-dependent organisational evolution synthesizes ecological and institutional processes. It holds that growth in the number of organisations in a population, density, drives processes of social legitimatisation and competition that, in turn, shape the vital rates.

Question: Most top-notch business consultants recommended changing the entire configuration of an organisation's strategy, structure and systems. If the ideas contained in the passage are agreed to, then such a recommendation:
Read the following passage and answer the question below.

The greens' success has clear policy implications, especially on issues of nuclear power, ecological tax reform, and citizenship rights. But success also has implications for parties themselves. Greens have always faced a unique 'strategic conundrum' arising from their unique beliefs and movement roots. Put simply, how can they reconcile their radical alternative politics with participation in mainstream or 'grey' parliamentary and government structures? Throughout the 1990s most parties shed their radical cloth in an attempt to capture votes, even at the expense of party unity and purity. Most were rewarded with electoral success well beyond what had been imaginable in the 1980s. The price to pay has been tortured internal debates about strategy, and new questions about green party identity and purpose. Today the key questions facing green parties revolve around not whether to embrace power, but what to do with it. More specifically, green parties face three new challenges in the new millennium: first, how to carve out a policy niche as established parties and governments become wiser to green demands, and as green concerns themselves appear more mainstream. Second, how to make green ideas spread beyond the confines of rich industrialised states into Eastern Europe and the developing world, where green parties remain marginal and environmental problems acute. Third, how to ensure that the broader role of green parties, as consciousness raisers, agitators, conscience of parliament and politics, is not sacrificed on the altar of electoral success. Green parties have come a long way since their emergence and development in the 1970s and 1980s. They have become established players able to shape party competition, government formation, and government policy. But this very 'establishment' carries risk for a party whose core values and identities depend mightily on their ability to challenge the conventional order, to agitate and to annoy. For most green parties, the greatest fear is not electoral decline so much as the prospect of becoming a party with parliamentary platform, ministerial voice, but nothing to say.

Question: Which out of the following is closest in meaning to the first three challenges mentioned in the paragraph?
Read the following passage and answer the question below.

The greens' success has clear policy implications, especially on issues of nuclear power, ecological tax reform, and citizenship rights. But success also has implications for parties themselves. Greens have always faced a unique 'strategic conundrum' arising from their unique beliefs and movement roots. Put simply, how can they reconcile their radical alternative politics with participation in mainstream or 'grey' parliamentary and government structures? Throughout the 1990s most parties shed their radical cloth in an attempt to capture votes, even at the expense of party unity and purity. Most were rewarded with electoral success well beyond what had been imaginable in the 1980s. The price to pay has been tortured internal debates about strategy, and new questions about green party identity and purpose. Today the key questions facing green parties revolve around not whether to embrace power, but what to do with it. More specifically, green parties face three new challenges in the new millennium: first, how to carve out a policy niche as established parties and governments become wiser to green demands, and as green concerns themselves appear more mainstream. Second, how to make green ideas spread beyond the confines of rich industrialised states into Eastern Europe and the developing world, where green parties remain marginal and environmental problems acute. Third, how to ensure that the broader role of green parties, as consciousness raisers, agitators, conscience of parliament and politics, is not sacrificed on the altar of electoral success. Green parties have come a long way since their emergence and development in the 1970s and 1980s. They have become established players able to shape party competition, government formation, and government policy. But this very 'establishment' carries risk for a party whose core values and identities depend mightily on their ability to challenge the conventional order, to agitate and to annoy. For most green parties, the greatest fear is not electoral decline so much as the prospect of becoming a party with parliamentary platform, ministerial voice, but nothing to say.

Question: Which of the following is the most important point that the author highlights?
Read the following passage and answer the question below.

The greens' success has clear policy implications, especially on issues of nuclear power, ecological tax reform, and citizenship rights. But success also has implications for parties themselves. Greens have always faced a unique 'strategic conundrum' arising from their unique beliefs and movement roots. Put simply, how can they reconcile their radical alternative politics with participation in mainstream or 'grey' parliamentary and government structures? Throughout the 1990s most parties shed their radical cloth in an attempt to capture votes, even at the expense of party unity and purity. Most were rewarded with electoral success well beyond what had been imaginable in the 1980s. The price to pay has been tortured internal debates about strategy, and new questions about green party identity and purpose. Today the key questions facing green parties revolve around not whether to embrace power, but what to do with it. More specifically, green parties face three new challenges in the new millennium: first, how to carve out a policy niche as established parties and governments become wiser to green demands, and as green concerns themselves appear more mainstream. Second, how to make green ideas spread beyond the confines of rich industrialised states into Eastern Europe and the developing world, where green parties remain marginal and environmental problems acute. Third, how to ensure that the broader role of green parties, as consciousness raisers, agitators, conscience of parliament and politics, is not sacrificed on the altar of electoral success. Green parties have come a long way since their emergence and development in the 1970s and 1980s. They have become established players able to shape party competition, government formation, and government policy. But this very 'establishment' carries risk for a party whose core values and identities depend mightily on their ability to challenge the conventional order, to agitate and to annoy. For most green parties, the greatest fear is not electoral decline so much as the prospect of becoming a party with parliamentary platform, ministerial voice, but nothing to say.

Question: How best can mainstream political parties, in India, keep green parties at bay?
Read the following passage and answer the question below.

The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, also known as the linguistic relativity hypothesis, refers to the proposal that the particular language one speaks influences the way one thinks about reality. The linguistic relativity hypothesis focuses on structural differences among natural languages such as Hopi, Chinese, and English, and asks whether the classifications of reality implicit in such structures affect our thinking about reality. Analytically, linguistic relativity as an issue stands between two others: a semiotic-level concern with how speaking any natural language whatsoever might influence the general potential for human thinking, and a functional or discourse-level concern with how using any given language code in a particular way might influence thinking, that is, the impact of special discursive practices such as schooling and literacy on formal thought. Although analytically distinct, the three issues are intimately related in both theory and practice. For example, claims about linguistic relativity depend on understanding the general psychological mechanisms linking language to thinking, and on understanding the diverse uses of speech in discourse to accomplish acts of descriptive reference. Hence, the relation of particular linguistic structures to patterns of thinking forms only one part of the broader array of questions about the significance of language for thought. Proposals of linguistic relativity necessarily develop two linked claims among the key terms of the hypothesis, language, thought, and reality. First, languages differ significantly in their interpretations of experienced reality, both what they select for representation and how they arrange it. Second, language interpretations have influences on thought about reality more generally, whether at the individual or cultural level. Claims for linguistic relativity thus require both articulating the contrasting interpretations of reality latent in the structures of different languages, and accessing their broader influences on, or relationships to, the cognitive interpretation of reality.

Question: Which of the following conclusions can be derived based on the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis?
Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the question that follows.

India is renowned for its diversity. Dissimilitude abounds in every sphere, from the physical elements of its land and people to the intangible workings of its beliefs and practices. Indeed, given this variety, India itself appears to be not a single entity but an amalgamation, a "construct" arising from the conjoining of innumerable, discrete parts. Modern scholarship has, quite properly, tended to explore these elements in isolation. (In part, this trend represents the conscious reversal of the stance taken by an earlier generation of scholars whose work reified India into a monolithic entity, a critical element in the much maligned "Orientalist" enterprise.) Nonetheless, the representation of India as a singular "Whole" is not an entirely capricious enterprise, for India is an identifiable entity, united by, if not born out of, certain deep and pervasive structures. Thus, for example, the Hindu tradition has long maintained a body of mythology that weaves the disparate temples, gods, even geographic landscapes that exist throughout the subcontinent into a unified, albeit syncretic, whole.

In the realm of thought, there is no more pervasive, unifying structure than karma. It is the "doctrine" or "law" that ties actions to results and creates a determinant link between an individual's status in this life and his or her fate in future lives. Following what is considered to be its appearance in the Upanishads, the doctrine reaches into nearly every corner of Hindu thought. Indeed, its dominance is such in the Hindu world view that karma encompasses, at the same time, life-affirming and life-negating functions, for just as it defines the world in terms of the "positive" function of laying out a doctrine of rewards and punishments, it also defines the world through its "negative" picture of action as an all but inescapable trap, an unremitting cycle of death and rebirth.

Despite, or perhaps because of, karma's ubiquity, the doctrine is not easily defined. Wendy Doniger O'Flaherty reports of a scholarly conference devoted to the study of karma where, although the participants admitted to a general sense of the doctrine's parameters, considerable time was spent in a "lively but ultimately vain attempt to define...karma and rebirth". The base meaning of the term "karma" (or, more precisely, in its Sanskrit stem form, karman, a neuter noun) is "action". As a doctrine, karma covers a number of quasi-independent concepts: rebirth (punarjanam), consequence (phala, literally "fruit," a word that suggests the "ripening" of actions into consequences), and the valuation or "ethic-ization" of acts, which marks them as either "good" (punya or sukarman) or "bad" (papam or duskarman).

In a general way, however, for at least the past two thousand years, the following passage (from the well known text, the Bhagavata Purana) has held true as a statement of the main elements of the karma doctrine: "The same person enjoys the fruit of the same sinful or meritorious act in the next world, in the same manner and to the same extent, according to the manner and extent to which that (sinful or meritorious) act has been done by him in this world." Even so, depending on the context in which the doctrine appears, ranging from its use across a wide range of literary sources to its use at the popular level, not all these elements may be present, though in a general way they may still be implied.

Question: Which of the following, if true, would be required for the concept of karma, as defined in the Bhagavata Purana, to be made equally valid across different space-time combinations?
Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the question that follows.

India is renowned for its diversity. Dissimilitude abounds in every sphere, from the physical elements of its land and people to the intangible workings of its beliefs and practices. Indeed, given this variety, India itself appears to be not a single entity but an amalgamation, a "construct" arising from the conjoining of innumerable, discrete parts. Modern scholarship has, quite properly, tended to explore these elements in isolation. (In part, this trend represents the conscious reversal of the stance taken by an earlier generation of scholars whose work reified India into a monolithic entity, a critical element in the much maligned "Orientalist" enterprise.) Nonetheless, the representation of India as a singular "Whole" is not an entirely capricious enterprise, for India is an identifiable entity, united by, if not born out of, certain deep and pervasive structures. Thus, for example, the Hindu tradition has long maintained a body of mythology that weaves the disparate temples, gods, even geographic landscapes that exist throughout the subcontinent into a unified, albeit syncretic, whole.

In the realm of thought, there is no more pervasive, unifying structure than karma. It is the "doctrine" or "law" that ties actions to results and creates a determinant link between an individual's status in this life and his or her fate in future lives. Following what is considered to be its appearance in the Upanishads, the doctrine reaches into nearly every corner of Hindu thought. Indeed, its dominance is such in the Hindu world view that karma encompasses, at the same time, life-affirming and life-negating functions, for just as it defines the world in terms of the "positive" function of laying out a doctrine of rewards and punishments, it also defines the world through its "negative" picture of action as an all but inescapable trap, an unremitting cycle of death and rebirth.

Despite, or perhaps because of, karma's ubiquity, the doctrine is not easily defined. Wendy Doniger O'Flaherty reports of a scholarly conference devoted to the study of karma where, although the participants admitted to a general sense of the doctrine's parameters, considerable time was spent in a "lively but ultimately vain attempt to define...karma and rebirth". The base meaning of the term "karma" (or, more precisely, in its Sanskrit stem form, karman, a neuter noun) is "action". As a doctrine, karma covers a number of quasi-independent concepts: rebirth (punarjanam), consequence (phala, literally "fruit," a word that suggests the "ripening" of actions into consequences), and the valuation or "ethic-ization" of acts, which marks them as either "good" (punya or sukarman) or "bad" (papam or duskarman).

In a general way, however, for at least the past two thousand years, the following passage (from the well known text, the Bhagavata Purana) has held true as a statement of the main elements of the karma doctrine: "The same person enjoys the fruit of the same sinful or meritorious act in the next world, in the same manner and to the same extent, according to the manner and extent to which that (sinful or meritorious) act has been done by him in this world." Even so, depending on the context in which the doctrine appears, ranging from its use across a wide range of literary sources to its use at the popular level, not all these elements may be present, though in a general way they may still be implied.

Question: Consider the following statements:
1. Meaning of karma is contextual.
2. Meaning of karma is not unanimous.
3. Meaning of karma includes many other quasi-independent concepts.
4. Karma also means actions and their rewards.
Which of the statements are true?
Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the question that follows.

India is renowned for its diversity. Dissimilitude abounds in every sphere, from the physical elements of its land and people to the intangible workings of its beliefs and practices. Indeed, given this variety, India itself appears to be not a single entity but an amalgamation, a "construct" arising from the conjoining of innumerable, discrete parts. Modern scholarship has, quite properly, tended to explore these elements in isolation. (In part, this trend represents the conscious reversal of the stance taken by an earlier generation of scholars whose work reified India into a monolithic entity, a critical element in the much maligned "Orientalist" enterprise.) Nonetheless, the representation of India as a singular "Whole" is not an entirely capricious enterprise, for India is an identifiable entity, united by, if not born out of, certain deep and pervasive structures. Thus, for example, the Hindu tradition has long maintained a body of mythology that weaves the disparate temples, gods, even geographic landscapes that exist throughout the subcontinent into a unified, albeit syncretic, whole.

In the realm of thought, there is no more pervasive, unifying structure than karma. It is the "doctrine" or "law" that ties actions to results and creates a determinant link between an individual's status in this life and his or her fate in future lives. Following what is considered to be its appearance in the Upanishads, the doctrine reaches into nearly every corner of Hindu thought. Indeed, its dominance is such in the Hindu world view that karma encompasses, at the same time, life-affirming and life-negating functions, for just as it defines the world in terms of the "positive" function of laying out a doctrine of rewards and punishments, it also defines the world through its "negative" picture of action as an all but inescapable trap, an unremitting cycle of death and rebirth.

Despite, or perhaps because of, karma's ubiquity, the doctrine is not easily defined. Wendy Doniger O'Flaherty reports of a scholarly conference devoted to the study of karma where, although the participants admitted to a general sense of the doctrine's parameters, considerable time was spent in a "lively but ultimately vain attempt to define...karma and rebirth". The base meaning of the term "karma" (or, more precisely, in its Sanskrit stem form, karman, a neuter noun) is "action". As a doctrine, karma covers a number of quasi-independent concepts: rebirth (punarjanam), consequence (phala, literally "fruit," a word that suggests the "ripening" of actions into consequences), and the valuation or "ethic-ization" of acts, which marks them as either "good" (punya or sukarman) or "bad" (papam or duskarman).

In a general way, however, for at least the past two thousand years, the following passage (from the well known text, the Bhagavata Purana) has held true as a statement of the main elements of the karma doctrine: "The same person enjoys the fruit of the same sinful or meritorious act in the next world, in the same manner and to the same extent, according to the manner and extent to which that (sinful or meritorious) act has been done by him in this world." Even so, depending on the context in which the doctrine appears, ranging from its use across a wide range of literary sources to its use at the popular level, not all these elements may be present, though in a general way they may still be implied.

Question: The base meaning of karma is:
Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the question that follows.

India is renowned for its diversity. Dissimilitude abounds in every sphere, from the physical elements of its land and people to the intangible workings of its beliefs and practices. Indeed, given this variety, India itself appears to be not a single entity but an amalgamation, a "construct" arising from the conjoining of innumerable, discrete parts. Modern scholarship has, quite properly, tended to explore these elements in isolation. (In part, this trend represents the conscious reversal of the stance taken by an earlier generation of scholars whose work reified India into a monolithic entity, a critical element in the much maligned "Orientalist" enterprise.) Nonetheless, the representation of India as a singular "Whole" is not an entirely capricious enterprise, for India is an identifiable entity, united by, if not born out of, certain deep and pervasive structures. Thus, for example, the Hindu tradition has long maintained a body of mythology that weaves the disparate temples, gods, even geographic landscapes that exist throughout the subcontinent into a unified, albeit syncretic, whole.

In the realm of thought, there is no more pervasive, unifying structure than karma. It is the "doctrine" or "law" that ties actions to results and creates a determinant link between an individual's status in this life and his or her fate in future lives. Following what is considered to be its appearance in the Upanishads, the doctrine reaches into nearly every corner of Hindu thought. Indeed, its dominance is such in the Hindu world view that karma encompasses, at the same time, life-affirming and life-negating functions, for just as it defines the world in terms of the "positive" function of laying out a doctrine of rewards and punishments, it also defines the world through its "negative" picture of action as an all but inescapable trap, an unremitting cycle of death and rebirth.

Despite, or perhaps because of, karma's ubiquity, the doctrine is not easily defined. Wendy Doniger O'Flaherty reports of a scholarly conference devoted to the study of karma where, although the participants admitted to a general sense of the doctrine's parameters, considerable time was spent in a "lively but ultimately vain attempt to define...karma and rebirth". The base meaning of the term "karma" (or, more precisely, in its Sanskrit stem form, karman, a neuter noun) is "action". As a doctrine, karma covers a number of quasi-independent concepts: rebirth (punarjanam), consequence (phala, literally "fruit," a word that suggests the "ripening" of actions into consequences), and the valuation or "ethic-ization" of acts, which marks them as either "good" (punya or sukarman) or "bad" (papam or duskarman).

In a general way, however, for at least the past two thousand years, the following passage (from the well known text, the Bhagavata Purana) has held true as a statement of the main elements of the karma doctrine: "The same person enjoys the fruit of the same sinful or meritorious act in the next world, in the same manner and to the same extent, according to the manner and extent to which that (sinful or meritorious) act has been done by him in this world." Even so, depending on the context in which the doctrine appears, ranging from its use across a wide range of literary sources to its use at the popular level, not all these elements may be present, though in a general way they may still be implied.

Question: As per the author, which of the following statements is wrong?
Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the question that follows.

India is renowned for its diversity. Dissimilitude abounds in every sphere, from the physical elements of its land and people to the intangible workings of its beliefs and practices. Indeed, given this variety, India itself appears to be not a single entity but an amalgamation, a "construct" arising from the conjoining of innumerable, discrete parts. Modern scholarship has, quite properly, tended to explore these elements in isolation. (In part, this trend represents the conscious reversal of the stance taken by an earlier generation of scholars whose work reified India into a monolithic entity, a critical element in the much maligned "Orientalist" enterprise.) Nonetheless, the representation of India as a singular "Whole" is not an entirely capricious enterprise, for India is an identifiable entity, united by, if not born out of, certain deep and pervasive structures. Thus, for example, the Hindu tradition has long maintained a body of mythology that weaves the disparate temples, gods, even geographic landscapes that exist throughout the subcontinent into a unified, albeit syncretic, whole.

In the realm of thought, there is no more pervasive, unifying structure than karma. It is the "doctrine" or "law" that ties actions to results and creates a determinant link between an individual's status in this life and his or her fate in future lives. Following what is considered to be its appearance in the Upanishads, the doctrine reaches into nearly every corner of Hindu thought. Indeed, its dominance is such in the Hindu world view that karma encompasses, at the same time, life-affirming and life-negating functions, for just as it defines the world in terms of the "positive" function of laying out a doctrine of rewards and punishments, it also defines the world through its "negative" picture of action as an all but inescapable trap, an unremitting cycle of death and rebirth.

Despite, or perhaps because of, karma's ubiquity, the doctrine is not easily defined. Wendy Doniger O'Flaherty reports of a scholarly conference devoted to the study of karma where, although the participants admitted to a general sense of the doctrine's parameters, considerable time was spent in a "lively but ultimately vain attempt to define...karma and rebirth". The base meaning of the term "karma" (or, more precisely, in its Sanskrit stem form, karman, a neuter noun) is "action". As a doctrine, karma covers a number of quasi-independent concepts: rebirth (punarjanam), consequence (phala, literally "fruit," a word that suggests the "ripening" of actions into consequences), and the valuation or "ethic-ization" of acts, which marks them as either "good" (punya or sukarman) or "bad" (papam or duskarman).

In a general way, however, for at least the past two thousand years, the following passage (from the well known text, the Bhagavata Purana) has held true as a statement of the main elements of the karma doctrine: "The same person enjoys the fruit of the same sinful or meritorious act in the next world, in the same manner and to the same extent, according to the manner and extent to which that (sinful or meritorious) act has been done by him in this world." Even so, depending on the context in which the doctrine appears, ranging from its use across a wide range of literary sources to its use at the popular level, not all these elements may be present, though in a general way they may still be implied.

Question: According to the passage, how did the orientalist perspective view India?
Deborah Mayo is a philosopher of science who has attempted to capture the implications of the new experimentalism in a philosophically rigorous way. Mayo focuses on the detailed way in which claims are validated by experiment, and is concerned with identifying just what claims are borne out and how. A key idea underlying her treatment is that a claim can only be said to be supported by experiment if the various ways in which the claim could be at fault have been investigated and eliminated. A claim can only be said to be borne out by experiment, and a severe test of a claim, as usefully construed by Mayo, must be such that the claim would be unlikely to pass it if it were false.

Her idea can be explained by some simple examples. Suppose Snell's law of refraction of light is tested by some very rough experiments in which very large margins of error are attributed to the measurements of angles of incidence and refraction, and suppose that the results are shown to be compatible with the law within those margins of error. Has the law been supported by experiments that have severely tested it? From Mayo's perspective the answer is 'no' because, owing to the roughness of the measurements, the law of refraction would be quite likely to pass this test even if it were false and some other law differing not too much from Snell's law true. An exercise I carried out in my school-teaching days serves to drive this point home. My students had conducted some not very careful experiments to test Snell's law. I then presented them with some alternative laws of refraction that had been suggested in antiquity and mediaeval times, prior to the discovery of Snell's law, and invited the students to test them with the measurements they had used to test Snell's law; because of the wide margins of error they had attributed to their measurements, all of these alternative laws pass the test. This clearly brings out the point that the experiments in question did not constitute a severe test of Snell's law. The law would have passed the test even if it were false and one of the historical alternatives true.

The author's use of Snell's law of refraction to illustrate Mayo's perspective can best be said to be
Enunciated by Jung as an integral part of his psychology in 1916, immediately after his unsettling confrontation with the unconscious, the transcendent function was seen by Jung as uniting the opposites, transforming psyche, and central to the individuation process. It also undoubtedly reflects his personal experience in coming to terms with the unconscious. Jung portrayed the transcendent function as operating through symbol and fantasy, and mediating between the opposites of consciousness and the unconscious to prompt the emergence of a new, third posture that transcends the two.

In exploring the details of the transcendent function and its connection to other Jungian constructs, this work has unearthed significant changes, ambiguities, and inconsistencies in Jung's writings. Further, it has identified two separate images of the transcendent function: (11) the narrow transcendent function, the function or process within Jung's pantheon of psychic structures, generally seen as the uniting of the opposites of consciousness and the unconscious from which a new attitude emerges; and (22) the expansive transcendent function, the root metaphor for psyche or being psychological that subsumes Jung's pantheon and that apprehends the most fundamental psychic activity of interacting with the unknown or other.

This book has also posited that the expansive transcendent function, as the root metaphor for exchanges between conscious and the unconscious, is the wellspring from whence flows other key Jungian structures such as the archetypes and the Self, and is the core of the individuation process. The expansive transcendent function has been explored further by surveying other schools of psychology, with both depth and non-depth orientations, and evaluating the transcendent function alongside structures or processes in those other schools which play similar mediatory and/or transitional roles.

The above passage is most likely an excerpt from:
Enunciated by Jung as an integral part of his psychology in 1916, immediately after his unsettling confrontation with the unconscious, the transcendent function was seen by Jung as uniting the opposites, transforming psyche, and central to the individuation process. It also undoubtedly reflects his personal experience in coming to terms with the unconscious. Jung portrayed the transcendent function as operating through symbol and fantasy, and mediating between the opposites of consciousness and the unconscious to prompt the emergence of a new, third posture that transcends the two.

In exploring the details of the transcendent function and its connection to other Jungian constructs, this work has unearthed significant changes, ambiguities, and inconsistencies in Jung's writings. Further, it has identified two separate images of the transcendent function: (11) the narrow transcendent function, the function or process within Jung's pantheon of psychic structures, generally seen as the uniting of the opposites of consciousness and the unconscious from which a new attitude emerges; and (22) the expansive transcendent function, the root metaphor for psyche or being psychological that subsumes Jung's pantheon and that apprehends the most fundamental psychic activity of interacting with the unknown or other.

This book has also posited that the expansive transcendent function, as the root metaphor for exchanges between conscious and the unconscious, is the wellspring from whence flows other key Jungian structures such as the archetypes and the Self, and is the core of the individuation process. The expansive transcendent function has been explored further by surveying other schools of psychology, with both depth and non-depth orientations, and evaluating the transcendent function alongside structures or processes in those other schools which play similar mediatory and/or transitional roles.

It can be definitely inferred from the passage above that:
Enunciated by Jung as an integral part of his psychology in 1916, immediately after his unsettling confrontation with the unconscious, the transcendent function was seen by Jung as uniting the opposites, transforming psyche, and central to the individuation process. It also undoubtedly reflects his personal experience in coming to terms with the unconscious. Jung portrayed the transcendent function as operating through symbol and fantasy, and mediating between the opposites of consciousness and the unconscious to prompt the emergence of a new, third posture that transcends the two.

In exploring the details of the transcendent function and its connection to other Jungian constructs, this work has unearthed significant changes, ambiguities, and inconsistencies in Jung's writings. Further, it has identified two separate images of the transcendent function: (11) the narrow transcendent function, the function or process within Jung's pantheon of psychic structures, generally seen as the uniting of the opposites of consciousness and the unconscious from which a new attitude emerges; and (22) the expansive transcendent function, the root metaphor for psyche or being psychological that subsumes Jung's pantheon and that apprehends the most fundamental psychic activity of interacting with the unknown or other.

This book has also posited that the expansive transcendent function, as the root metaphor for exchanges between conscious and the unconscious, is the wellspring from whence flows other key Jungian structures such as the archetypes and the Self, and is the core of the individuation process. The expansive transcendent function has been explored further by surveying other schools of psychology, with both depth and non-depth orientations, and evaluating the transcendent function alongside structures or processes in those other schools which play similar mediatory and/or transitional roles.

A comparison similar to the distinction between the two images of the transcendent function would be:
Enunciated by Jung as an integral part of his psychology in 1916, immediately after his unsettling confrontation with the unconscious, the transcendent function was seen by Jung as uniting the opposites, transforming psyche, and central to the individuation process. It also undoubtedly reflects his personal experience in coming to terms with the unconscious. Jung portrayed the transcendent function as operating through symbol and fantasy, and mediating between the opposites of consciousness and the unconscious to prompt the emergence of a new, third posture that transcends the two.

In exploring the details of the transcendent function and its connection to other Jungian constructs, this work has unearthed significant changes, ambiguities, and inconsistencies in Jung's writings. Further, it has identified two separate images of the transcendent function: (11) the narrow transcendent function, the function or process within Jung's pantheon of psychic structures, generally seen as the uniting of the opposites of consciousness and the unconscious from which a new attitude emerges; and (22) the expansive transcendent function, the root metaphor for psyche or being psychological that subsumes Jung's pantheon and that apprehends the most fundamental psychic activity of interacting with the unknown or other.

This book has also posited that the expansive transcendent function, as the root metaphor for exchanges between conscious and the unconscious, is the wellspring from whence flows other key Jungian structures such as the archetypes and the Self, and is the core of the individuation process. The expansive transcendent function has been explored further by surveying other schools of psychology, with both depth and non-depth orientations, and evaluating the transcendent function alongside structures or processes in those other schools which play similar mediatory and/or transitional roles.

As per the passage, the key Jungian structure, other than the Self, that emerges from the expansive transcendent function may NOT be expressed as a(nn):
Deborah Mayo is a philosopher of science who has attempted to capture the implications of the new experimentalism in a philosophically rigorous way. Mayo focuses on the detailed way in which claims are validated by experiment, and is concerned with identifying just what claims are borne out and how. A key idea underlying her treatment is that a claim can only be said to be supported by experiment if the various ways in which the claim could be at fault have been investigated and eliminated. A claim can only be said to be borne out by experiment, and a severe test of a claim, as usefully construed by Mayo, must be such that the claim would be unlikely to pass it if it were false.

Her idea can be explained by some simple examples. Suppose Snell's law of refraction of light is tested by some very rough experiments in which very large margins of error are attributed to the measurements of angles of incidence and refraction, and suppose that the results are shown to be compatible with the law within those margins of error. Has the law been supported by experiments that have severely tested it? From Mayo's perspective the answer is 'no' because, owing to the roughness of the measurements, the law of refraction would be quite likely to pass this test even if it were false and some other law differing not too much from Snell's law true. An exercise I carried out in my school-teaching days serves to drive this point home. My students had conducted some not very careful experiments to test Snell's law. I then presented them with some alternative laws of refraction that had been suggested in antiquity and mediaeval times, prior to the discovery of Snell's law, and invited the students to test them with the measurements they had used to test Snell's law; because of the wide margins of error they had attributed to their measurements, all of these alternative laws pass the test. This clearly brings out the point that the experiments in question did not constitute a severe test of Snell's law. The law would have passed the test even if it were false and one of the historical alternatives true.

Which of the following conclusions can be drawn from the passage?
Deborah Mayo is a philosopher of science who has attempted to capture the implications of the new experimentalism in a philosophically rigorous way. Mayo focuses on the detailed way in which claims are validated by experiment, and is concerned with identifying just what claims are borne out and how. A key idea underlying her treatment is that a claim can only be said to be supported by experiment if the various ways in which the claim could be at fault have been investigated and eliminated. A claim can only be said to be borne out by experiment, and a severe test of a claim, as usefully construed by Mayo, must be such that the claim would be unlikely to pass it if it were false.

Her idea can be explained by some simple examples. Suppose Snell's law of refraction of light is tested by some very rough experiments in which very large margins of error are attributed to the measurements of angles of incidence and refraction, and suppose that the results are shown to be compatible with the law within those margins of error. Has the law been supported by experiments that have severely tested it? From Mayo's perspective the answer is 'no' because, owing to the roughness of the measurements, the law of refraction would be quite likely to pass this test even if it were false and some other law differing not too much from Snell's law true. An exercise I carried out in my school-teaching days serves to drive this point home. My students had conducted some not very careful experiments to test Snell's law. I then presented them with some alternative laws of refraction that had been suggested in antiquity and mediaeval times, prior to the discovery of Snell's law, and invited the students to test them with the measurements they had used to test Snell's law; because of the wide margins of error they had attributed to their measurements, all of these alternative laws pass the test. This clearly brings out the point that the experiments in question did not constitute a severe test of Snell's law. The law would have passed the test even if it were false and one of the historical alternatives true.

As per Mayo's perspective, which of the following best defines the phrase 'scientific explanation'?
Passage:

Every conscious mental state carries a quality we call mood. We are always in some mood, pleasant or unpleasant to some degree. Bad moods may come from too little positive reinforcement in a person's life, along with too many punishments. Moods differ from emotions in one clear way: emotions are tied to a specific object, while moods are not. This split is not perfect, since emotions can also be aimed at something broad (a person can be angry at people in general), while a mood still carries a general sense about the state of the world at large. Moods show up as positive or negative feelings linked to health, personality, or how good a person feels life is. Moods can also grow out of an emotion, such as the mood that follows a specific event like failing to secure a loan. In that sense, a mood is the mind's judgment on the recent past. Goldie notes that an emotion can rise and fall inside a mood, while an emotion can still carry traits that are not object specific.

Moods matter to marketing because they color outlook and bias judgment. This is why consumer confidence surveys matter, since consumer confidence reflects the national mood. There is mood congruence when a person's thoughts and actions fall in line with their mood. Goleman describes this as a constant stream of feeling that runs in perfect harmony with a person's stream of thought. Mood congruence happens because a positive mood brings pleasant associations that soften later thoughts and actions, while a negative mood brings pessimistic associations that shape later judgment and behavior. A consumer in a good mood is more optimistic and confident about buying, and more willing to put up with things like waiting in a queue. Businesses try to put customers in the right mood using music and friendly staff, or place bakeries inside malls so the smell of fresh bread pulls shoppers in.

Thayer treats mood as a mix of biological and psychological influences, a kind of clinical thermometer that reflects everything going on inside and outside a person. For Thayer, the two building blocks of mood are energy and tension, combined in different amounts. A specific mixture of energy and tension, together with the thoughts they influence, produces moods. He describes four mood states:
- Calm-energy: the optimal mood for feeling good.
- Calm-tiredness: mild tiredness without stress, which can still feel pleasant.
- Tense-energy: a low level of anxiety suited to a fight-or-flight response.
- Tense-tiredness: a mix of fatigue and anxiety behind the unpleasant feeling of depression.

People generally feel down or feel good because of events happening around them, and this adds up to the national mood. People feel elated when their national soccer team wins an international match, and low when the team loses. An elated mood of calm-energy is an optimistic mood, which is good for business. Consumers, as socially involved individuals, are shaped by the prevailing social climate, and marketers talk about the national mood running for or against conspicuous consumption. Moods do change. Writing early in the nineteenth century, Tocqueville describes an American elite embarrassed by showy material display; sixty years later, in the Gilded Age, many people were eager to embrace a showy, materialistic style instead. The hard part is predicting a shift in national mood, since a change in mood affects everything from buying stocks to buying houses and washing machines. Thayer would argue that we should watch for national events likely to push people toward a tense-tiredness state or a calm-energy state, since these two extremes are more likely to shape behavior. Artists sensitive to national moods capture these long-term shifts. One example is the emotional distance between Charles Dickens's sentimental account of the death of Little Nell and Oscar Wilde's cruel joke about it (that one would need a heart of stone not to laugh at the death of Little Nell), a shift from high Victorian sentiment to the sharper cynicism found later in writers like Thomas Hardy and artists like Aubrey Beardsley.

Whenever the mind is not fully absorbed, consciousness is no longer focused and ordered, and under such conditions the mind drifts toward unpleasant thoughts, building a negative mood. Csikszentmihalyi argues that the human need to keep consciousness fully active drives a good deal of consumer behavior. Sometimes it does not matter what a person is shopping for; the act of shopping itself is one way to fill the void in consciousness when there is nothing else to do.

Question: Which one of the following statements best summarizes the above passage?