B. He possesses a strong understanding of working in space.
NCERT Solutions Poorvi Chapter 5 & 213Feathered Friend — Let us think and reflect
Book page 212 Updated on2026-09-05
The extract says the girders were “floating around in free fall” and had to be moved in a “slow-motion, three-dimensional ballet”. On Earth a steel girder must be lifted against gravity, and it moves in the two dimensions a crane allows. Here it drifts in any direction, up and down have no meaning, and every push takes effect slowly — which is exactly how a mass behaves when nothing is pulling it down.
The paragraph that follows makes it explicit: Sven's team “could step back and admire their handiwork without being abruptly parted from it by gravity.”
A. Both (A) and (R) are true, and (R) is the correct explanation of (A).
During the festival, people wore colourful garbs that represented their culture.
The extract uses it in “a space suit is not the most convenient of garbs in which to work.” The glossary defines garbs as “clothing of a special kind”.
The narrator references canaries and miners in order to highlight the historical use of canaries as warning systems.
Jim initially dismisses the warning because he trusts the station's engineering completely: he believes the alarms would already have gone off, since the station has “duplicate circuits, operating independently” — so in his mind a failure this serious could not pass unnoticed.
B. startled by unexpected information
It suggests that the quarrel is over and the crew has closed ranks. A ‘pipe of peace' — the calumet passed from hand to hand around a circle — is a ritual that ends a dispute and binds a group together. Applied to an oxygen bottle, the image says three things at once:
- The argument has been settled by the facts, so they are no longer taking sides.
- They are sharing the one thing that matters — good air — instead of competing for it. Fear has made them a group, not a crowd.
- They are calm. Nobody panics or runs for a suit; they stand and talk, taking turns at the bottle.
Purpose: the alarm existed to warn the crew the moment anything went wrong with the station's life support — here, to sound the instant the air purifier stopped doing its job. On a sealed station this is not a convenience; it is the difference between noticing a fault and never waking from it.
Cause of failure: a chain of three things, each harmless alone —
- a rare eclipse of the station by Earth's shadow cut off sunlight and heat that night;
- “part of the air purifier had frozen up”;
- “the single alarm in the circuit had failed to go off” — and the second, duplicate circuit that should have caught this “isn't connected up yet.”
It moves through four clear stages, and the movement is the story's real plot.
| Stage | How the crew treat her | Text |
|---|---|---|
| Surprise | A shock in an impossible place | “I forgot all about the angle beam just behind my head… We stared at each other for a minute” |
| Affection | A shared secret, everybody's pet | “Claribel was a general pet”; they concealed her from VIPs |
| Distress | Grief and helpless care | “all equally distressed”; “we all waited in hushed silence”; the oxygen tent |
| Gratitude and respect | Recognised as a safety device — a life-saver | “Without Claribel, we should soon have been slightly dead”; birdsong now means “you're being doubly safeguarded” |
It tells us that a solution's worth has nothing to do with how sophisticated it is, and that the ability to reach outside your own field is itself a skill.
The station's answer to bad air was expensive and modern: sensors, duplicate circuits, alarms. It failed. The answer that worked was a hundred years old and came from a coal mine — “miners used to carry canaries down to warn them of gas.” Note who supplies it: not the duty engineer, whose expertise made him certain the machines were fine, but the storekeeper, whose sluggish mind kept “tugging” at an old scrap of knowledge until “understanding exploded in my brain.”
- Redundancy should be unlike itself. Two identical electronic circuits can fail for the same reason; a bird cannot fail the way a circuit does. That is why the closing line calls birdsong being “doubly safeguarded, at practically no extra expense.”
- Old knowledge is not obsolete knowledge. A method from a Victorian coal mine works perfectly in orbit because the underlying biology has not changed.
- Expertise can blind. Jim's “Nonsense!” came from knowing the system too well to doubt it.
The title ‘Feathered Friend' is exactly right, and it earns both of its words twice over.
- ‘Feathered' names Claribel by the one feature that makes her different from every other thing on the station — everything else there is metal, plastic and glass. It also sets up the story's central contrast: feathers against “half a million dollars' worth of chemical and electronic engineering”.
- ‘Friend' is true in the ordinary sense — she was “a general pet”, she woke the men each morning, and they grieved over her. But by the end it is true in a far stronger sense: a friend is someone who saves you. “Without Claribel, we should soon have been slightly dead.”
The line suggests that in space survival hangs on things too small and too dull to think about — a frozen valve, an unconnected wire, one unusually long night in Earth's shadow.
Its force lies in the phrase “slightly dead”, which is deliberately absurd: you cannot be slightly dead. The understatement does the work of a shout. It tells us that:
- the margin between normal life and no life at all is very thin — thin enough that the crew crossed most of it in their sleep, waking only with a “nagging headache” and “sluggish” minds;
- the danger gives no warning a human can feel. Oxygen shortage does not hurt; it makes you slow and content, which is why the narrator nearly failed to think at all;
- the crew live with this and joke about it, because that is how people carry a permanent risk.
Clarke keeps the science exact and lets the tone carry the comedy. The humour never breaks the world; it comes out of it.
| Technique | Example from the story | Effect |
|---|---|---|
| Understatement | “we should soon have been slightly dead”; “It was one of those accidents that couldn't possibly happen” | Deadly danger delivered dryly, so the reader laughs and then feels the chill |
| Grand image, small object | Girders doing a “three-dimensional ballet”; an oxygen bottle passed “like a pipe of peace” | Comic mismatch of scale and dignity |
| Self-mockery | “the little cubbyhole laughingly called my office”; “when the stars had ceased to explode before my eyes” | A narrator who refuses to sound heroic, so we trust him |
| Comic job titles | Jock Duncan, “our cook-doctor-dietitian”, who admits “I've never listened to a canary's heart” | Shows how improvised and small this frontier really is |
| Ordinary detail in an extraordinary place | The 150-pound bonus and the “reducing diet”; the crew inventing excuses for peeps from the ventilating shafts | Makes space feel like a workplace, which is funnier and more convincing than making it feel like an adventure |
The story does not give us Sven's thoughts, so this asks you to infer them from what he does say and do — the mournful “I don't know. I just found her like this”, the beaming relief when she revives, the lament “What's wrong with her? She's never done this before.” From those, a defensible reconstruction:
When I opened my hand that morning and saw those two claws sticking up, I was ashamed as much as grieved. I had taken her from a house with air and windows and put her in a tin can, and it had killed her — that is what I thought. I could not even tell them what had happened. Jock held her to his ear and said he had never listened to a canary's heart, and I remember thinking that nobody in this whole expensive place knew anything worth knowing.
Then she came out of the mask and gave her “Come to the cookhouse, boys” — and keeled over again. And it turned out she had not been dying of my carelessness at all. She had been telling us, twice over, that the air we were all breathing was going bad, and none of our alarms had the sense to agree with her.
So I stopped feeling guilty, and I have not quite stopped feeling frightened. Half a million dollars of engineering let us sleep towards our deaths, and a bird that weighs less than my glove woke us. I keep her cage door open now. She goes where she likes.