D. wonder
NCERT Solutions Poorvi Chapter 3 North, South, East, West — Let us think and reflect
Book page 126 & 127 Updated on2026-09-05
Amma is sad about the frequent flooding in the Sundarbans because the floods are getting worse than they used to be, and they are drowning a rare and precious wetland — the mangrove forests, the crocodiles, tigers and birds that live in them, and the homes and fields of the people of the delta.
The line is: "We also saw crocodiles and a lonely snake while boating. I hope they don't follow us home."
A. Both the assertion and the reason are true, and the reason correctly explains the assertion.
Reason — 'How is everyone?' → she wants to know how they are → true
Link — you ask after people only when they are on your mind → the reason explains the assertion
The speaker chooses to stay awake because she simply loves looking out of the train window, and the Goan landscape sliding past in the night — the plateaus, the hills, the beaches and the tunnels — is far too beautiful and too new to sleep through.
She means that the plateaus are so beautiful that a description cannot do them justice — her friends would have to see them to believe her.
It is a friendly exaggeration, the way we say 'you won't believe what happened'. She is not really doubting her friends; she is inviting them into her excitement and admitting that she has run out of words. That is why she follows it with the plainest possible sentence — 'There are so many hills here, and beaches too' — and then with a wish: 'Someday, I wish we could all go on a tour of the plateaus.'
A. from fear to comfort
The speaker's wish indicates her sense of connection as well as the value she places on shared experiences with her peers.
Most likely the sudden total darkness, and the loss of control that comes with it.
When a train enters a tunnel the daylight vanishes in a second, the noise doubles as the sound bounces off the walls, the ears pop with the change of pressure, and a child cannot see where she is going or how long it will last. Being shut inside a mountain, unable to see her parents in the next seat, is frightening in the way that any small enclosed dark space is frightening. Shaana also lives on Rameswaram island, in wide open sea light — tunnels would have been strange to her from the start.
Yes — and Shaana clearly enjoys watching them behave like children.
- In Kashmir: 'Appa and Amma love it here, and they like throwing snowballs at each other.'
- At the beach near Puducherry: 'Amma and Appa splashed water on each other and behaved like children. It's a good thing I was there to control them.'
- On the Narmada: all three went rafting, and 'Appa was so scared that he decided never to go rafting ever again' — the frank fear of someone who threw himself into the fun.
- At Olaikaadu they dove below her while she floated, and Amma even wanted to teach her to dive.
The funniest evidence is the reversal of roles. Shaana, the child, says it is a good thing she was there 'to control them'. A family that can swap places like this is plainly a family enjoying itself.
Together they point to one thing: the climate is changing, and India's landscapes are changing with it.
| What Shaana reports | What it indicates |
|---|---|
| 'they say there was much more snow last year' (Thajiwas glacier, Kashmir) | Warmer winters and shrinking glaciers. Himalayan glaciers feed our great rivers, so less snow now means less water later. |
| 'Amma is sad about how much this place floods today' (the Sundarbans) | Rising sea levels and stronger cyclones pushing salt water into the delta, drowning mangroves, farmland and villages. |
| 'there used to be a lot more water, and rafting was much scarier then' (the Narmada) | Rivers running lower than they once did. |
The two ends of the same problem meet here — ice that should stay frozen is melting, and water that should stay in the sea is coming inland. Notice how the author delivers this. Shaana never uses the words 'climate change'; she just repeats what the grown-ups say. The reader is left to work it out, which makes the point land harder than a lecture would.
In under two months Shaana crosses almost every landform India has, and her postcards prove it in her own words:
| Landform | Where | Evidence |
|---|---|---|
| Glacier and snow | Thajiwas, Kashmir (North) | 'The glaciers are white and blue and we have to wear four layers of clothes.' |
| Mountains | Himachal Pradesh (North) | 'we can see so many mountains from our cabin' |
| Dense forest | Arunachal Pradesh (Northeast) | 'The forest here is so thick that if you blink… you will get lost.' |
| Wetland and mangroves | Sundarbans, West Bengal (East) | 'it was possible for trees called mangroves to grow in seawater!' |
| Desert | Gujarat (West) | 'It's hot, dry, and there's sand everywhere. It's like a beach without the sea!' |
| River valley | The Narmada (Centre) | 'the Narmada river, which flows all the way to the centre of India' |
| Plateaus and hills | Goa (Southwest) | 'you won't believe how nice the plateaus look. There are so many hills here, and beaches too.' |
| Coast and sea | Chennai, Puducherry, Pamban, Olaikaadu (South) | 'I could see the ocean on both sides. How amazing that a train can travel across the sea like this!' |
She sums it up herself in the last postcard: 'I know we're going to miss visiting the forests, glaciers, deserts, wetlands, plateaus, and mountains.' And the diversity is not only physical — she also notes 'all those new languages' and 'all those different people', and the beautiful colourful clothes of Gujarat.
She writes exactly as a child speaks, and the choices are worth naming:
- Exclamations and 'you won't believe' openings. 'You won't believe where I am!'; 'you won't believe how wild and scary it was'; 'Today was the best day ever!' — excitement pushed to the top of the sentence.
- Exaggeration for effect. 'if you blink or stop to tie your shoelaces, you will get lost'; 'It's like a beach without the sea!'
- Direct questions to her readers. 'Did you know that Arunachal Pradesh is far away from Himachal Pradesh?'; 'How is everyone? Are you missing me yet?' — she keeps the conversation two-way even on a postcard.
- Curiosity shown as new words repeated. 'places like the Sundarbans are called wetlands'; 'trees called mangroves' — she hands her friends the vocabulary she has just been given.
- Fears made small by humour. 'I hope they don't follow us home'; 'I would love to meet a bear and give it a hug'; 'I used to be afraid of tunnels, but I'm not any more.'
- Honest, unpolished admissions. 'I only fell down twice'; 'I passed with 88 per cent'; 'my hands are shaking from not wearing gloves, so I don't think I can write any more.'
What she learnt:
- Geography as something felt, not memorised. She now knows by experience that a Pradesh in the north and a Pradesh in the east may be two thousand kilometres apart, that mangroves grow in salt water, that a plateau is flat-topped, and that a river is far faster than it looks.
- The scale of her country. Two-and-a-half days to cross from West Bengal to Gujarat; six hours from the desert to the Narmada; a train that runs across the sea at Pamban.
- That India is many peoples, not one. 'we are going to miss hearing all those new languages and meeting all those different people'; the clothes of Gujarat; the food and customs of each place.
- That the land is under strain. Less snow, lower rivers, worse floods.
- About herself. She lost her fear of tunnels, learnt to surf, floated over a reef, and discovered she enjoys travelling — 'I love Arunachal the best so far and am beginning to enjoy myself.'
The impact: India stops being a map on a classroom wall and becomes a set of real places she has stood in. That does three things — it makes her curious rather than nervous about what is unfamiliar, it makes her respectful of differences in language and custom, and it gives her a personal reason to care about glaciers and wetlands she has now seen with her own eyes. Her last wish, to travel again 'and maybe next time we can take our friends with us', shows the final lesson: that such an understanding is worth passing on.
The postcard form is doing several jobs at once:
- It fits the traveller. A postcard is short, dated and written on the spot, so each entry sounds fresh and unedited — exactly how a twelve-year-old would report a day that has just happened.
- It lets the author skip. Twelve postcards can cross the whole country in eight pages. A continuous story would have had to describe the journeys in between; postcards simply jump from Kashmir to Himachal to Arunachal.
- It gives the reader the dates and the route. 30 April, 10 May, 17 May… 25 June. You can trace the itinerary and the two months on a map without being told.
- It creates a real listener. Because Shaana is writing to her classmates, she can ask questions, tease and gossip — 'Are you missing me yet?', 'Send my love to PT Miss and Library Ma'am.' That makes the reader feel like one of those classmates.
- It keeps the voice honest. There is no room on a postcard for fine writing, so we get short, vivid, personal lines instead of a guidebook.
- It builds a quiet ending. The last card is addressed not to the class but to Amma and Appa, and the very last line of all is 'we're finally home now' — the form itself closes the circle.