CLAT Drawing Inferences and Conclusions Practice Questions With Solutions

Everything she wanted was here, at Carignano, in Kasauli. Here, on the ridge of the mountain, in this quiet house. It was the place, and the time of life, that she had wanted and prepared for all her life-as she realized on the first day at Cangnano, with a great, cool flowering of relief and at last she had it. She wanted no one and nothing else. Whatever else came, or happened here, would be an unwelcome intrusion and distraction. This she tried to convey to the plodding postman with a cold and piercing stare from the height of the ridge onto his honest bull back. Unfortunately, he did not look up at her on the hilltop but stared stolidly down at the dust piling onto his shoes as he plodded on. A bullock -man, an oafish ox, she thought bitterly. She stepped backwards into the garden and the wind suddenly billowed up and threw the pine branches about as though to curtain her. She was grey, tall and thin and her silk sari made a sweeping, shivering sound and she fancied she could merge with the pine trees and be mistaken for one. To be a tree, no more and no less, was all she was prepared to undertake. What pleased and satisfied her so, here at Carignano, was its barrenness. This was the chief virtue of all Kasauli of course -its starkness. It had rocks, it had pines, it had light and air In every direction there was a sweeping view to the north of the mountains, to the south, of the plains. Occasionally an eagle swam through this clear unobstructed mass of light and air, that was all. And Carignano, her home on the ridge, had no more than that. Why should it? The sun shone on its white walls. Its windows were open the ones facing north opened on to the blue waves of the Himalayas flowing out and up to the line of ice and snow sketched upon the sky, while those that faced south looked down the plunging cliff to the plain stretching out, flat and sere to the blurred horizon. Yes, there were some apricot trees close to the house. There were clumps of iris that had finished blooming. There was the kitchen with a wing of smoke lifting out of its chimney and a stack of wood outside its door. But these were incidental, almost unimportant.

Read an extract from A Scandal in Bohemia by Arthur Conan Doyle: “I rang the door -bell and was shown up to the chamber which had formerly been in part my own. With hardly a word spoken, Sherlock Holmes waved me to an armchair. Then he stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular introspective fashion. “Watson, you did not tell me that you intended to go into harness.” “Then, how do you know?” “I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?” “My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I have changed my clothes, I can’t imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, but there, again, I f ail to see how you work it out.” “It is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously, they have been causedby someone whohas very carelessly scaredround the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot -slitting specimen of the London slavey.” In fiction, detectives like Holmes are usually portrayed as people with exceptionally brilliant minds. They possess the rare skill to see and analyze what ordinary people can’t. They have incredible abilities to infer, deduce, induce and conclude. Then, there is G.K. Chesterton’s fictional catholic priest, Father Brown who relies on his extraordinary power of sympathy and empathy that enable him to imagine and feel as criminals do. He explains, “I had thought out exactly how a thing like that could be done, and in what style or state of mind a man could really do it. And when I was quite sure that I felt exactly like the murderer myself, of course I knew who he was.” Sherlock finds the criminal by starting from the outside. He relies on science, experimental methods and deduction. On the contrary, Father Brown uses varied psychological experiences learned from those who make confessions of crime to him. He relies on in trospection, intuition and empathy. There is yet another set of detectives like those created by writers like Agatha Christie. Her Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot is a story -teller who draws information from the stories that others tell. He patiently listens to numerous accounts of what happened, where it happened and how it happened. He listens for credibility and ambiguity; he identifies why and how the pieces of the jig -saws don’t fit together. Ultimately, he uncovers the truth.