Corruption-A fact of life in the indian society

Corruption: A fact of life in the Indian Society The consequences of corruption are well known. But, in India, these consequences are not well-realised. The public has not had an adequate realisation of the dangers of corruption. Corruption is Anti- national and Anti- economic development. We, as the inhabitants of this nation, have either given up hope of making our country less corrupt or, we have accepted corruption as a fact of life. It is not easy to define corruption. But in a narrow sense, corruption is mostly concerned with bribery and it takes several forms. Corruption has progressively increased and is now rampant in our society. Now, corruption is not only confined to politicians or the government alone. The fact is that most of the Indians are involved in corrupt practices in one way or the other, either due to greed or due to so called compulsion. There are not many causes of corruption. But amidst these few causes, there is one main cause. That one main cause is us, the people of India. Just so that our work becomes easy and fast going, we pay bribes and make sure our wanted work is done. The main cause is growing competition in this growing country. As the country grows, so does the corruption and blocks the growth. This is one of the reasons for India still being a less economically developed country. From small time clerks to the high profile politicians,

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You have been stranded on a desert island. Describe your first 24 hours alone on the island.

Hannah Greenslade Y10 Coursework Assignment 2 5/11/01 Option 3 Task; You have been stranded on a desert island. Describe your first 24 hours alone on the island. The first thing that hit me was the smell. Even before I opened my eyes, I knew where I was. The tantalizing scent of washed-up waves and bananas all rolled into one. I felt the millions of grains of sand, hot against my fingers and the cool breeze against my face, - a relief from the sweltering sun. I heard the sea crawling onto the sand and, further away, the same monster dashing against the rocks. As I opened my mouth to take in a gulp of air, I tasted salt in my throat. Not the same taste as on Brighton Pier, when you look over into the sea, but a fresh, clean one, as if taking in pure oxygen. Only then, when my four other senses had taken in their share of my surroundings, did I allow myself to open my eyes. I was amazed at how easily fantasy and reality intertwined at that moment. It was like continuing a dream after waking up. As I lifted my eyelids, as the barrier between my imagination and actuality was removed, the accuracy of my prediction astounded me. As I sat up and looked around, I realized that I must have been asleep for a long time, as my sopping wet clothes were completely dry. I could just see the island on which I had been staying, a strip of land on the contrasting horizon. The rubber

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Aftermath - creative writing.

Aftermath BANG! I woke. I opened my eyes but was unable to see. The dust had settled like concrete boulders into the corners of my eyes! Everything was deadly still. The wind fiercely gave a shout. A black cloud stood dominating the demolished town. I moved my hands to wipe my irritated eyes, boulders, brickwork, broken furniture and complete devastation stood before me. A ray of light appeared through cracks of the rubble. The boulders took on features like monsters and ogres - making my chest tighten with fear. I vociferated for help. No one was around. I was scared: Petrified. I managed to pull my achy bones out from the debris, the pain was horrific. I could feel the cold misty wind stroke my face. In the far distance I could hear low voices that became louder and louder: hysterical screams. I attempted to crawl my way towards the noise - in hope for help. Shards of glass dug into the palms of my hands. Warm blood trickled down my knees, my throat tightened with the dirty dense dust. I could taste the fear. Behind me I heard a crackle. I turned. The flames of fire danced before my eyes. The heat scorched my face like the hottest sauna could. The smoke was a ferocious lion ready to pounce. I moved as quickly as I could, using all the energy I had. Slowly crawling like a young baby. I felt hopeless: disconsolate! The further I crawled the louder the low voices

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A Foreboding Night. Ian sat on the curb, his hands buried deep inside the pocket of his jeans.

A Foreboding Night Ian sat on the curb, his hands buried deep inside the pocket of his jeans. Puddles of rain filled the gaps between the uneven concrete, reflecting the eerie glow of the streetlamps. The oppressive night air never failed to release its grasp on him. The hairs on his arm tingled as the chilling wind breathed into his face, whispering unnerving secrets into his ear. He glanced at his wristwatch. At last, with its headlights flashing, a taxi broke through the end of the street. Ian sprang up and waved frantically at the car. The tires screeched as it skidded to a halt. Ian opened the door and felt a rush of relief as he plopped himself onto the worn-out leather seat. A faint yellow glow emanated from the lights on the peeling ceiling. The taxi driver peered at him through the rearview mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, devoid of all emotions. "Where to?" he rasped. Ian glanced around uneasily. "Where do you want to go?" the driver repeated. The harshness of his tone struck Ian into silence. His throat felt tight as he struggled to think of a place. Sweat began to trickle down his neck. Something wasn't right. Trees, bushes, and streetlamps whirred by as the car sped along the streets, its headlights piercing through the wilderness of night like the eyes of a wolf. Spilling out its light onto the ribbon of slick concrete, the crescent moon followed the car and

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Contrast Between a place at Two different times

Antoine Tuesday 17th of November 2009 LaCour Contrast Essay 2nde4 The bright orange sun slowly rose above the horizon of the city of New Orleans. It was a special day, Mardi Gras day. The people had been preparing for weeks. They had multi-coloured costumes and massive, feather-covered floats parked in their garages or alleyways. At around 6 AM, the first New Orleanians were in the wide streets parading. They were throwing hundreds of bead necklaces which wrapped around the power lines and the branches of the blooming magnolia trees, reflecting the brilliant sunlight. It seemed that gold dust was falling from the trees. The dazzling paraders were beating on tambourines, playing trumpets, trombones, saxophones and drums. Many people were on their iron balconies cheering. The parade had started to grow and was now like a snake slithering through the streets of the French Quarter. The gigantic floats represented dragons or pirate ships. They were full of revellers throwing bead necklaces to the parade-goers. These were dressed in shiny, bright colours such as green, yellow or purple, the traditional colours of Mardi Gras. People drank 'Hurricanes' from colourful plastic cups. Then one of the many Indian bands passed. They were all dressed in Indian costumes but the chief was all in flashy colours such as yellow or pink and marched in Indian file

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Travel and tourism letter for a school trip.

6/12/10 Dear Parents, Re: Travel and Tourism trip to The Tower of London Friday 10/12/10 Our first travel and tourism trip of the school year will be to the Tower of London this Friday. The purpose of the trip is to visit one of London's major tourist attractions. During the visit they will have the opportunity to look around the Tower of London and hopefully see the Crown Jewels. There will also be an education session led by one of the Tower of London staff on travel and tourism related issues such as customer service, guest care, marketing and so on. We will be travelling by bus and underground to Tower Hill. Programme. Timings will be approximate. 09:00 Leave school 0:15 Arrive at the Tower of London 0:30 Look around the Tower 2:00 Education talk 3:30 Lunch 4:00 Either continue the tour of the Tower or walk along the south bank to visit some other landmarks 5:45 Arrive back at Turn Pike Lane Students will need to wear uniform for this trip and will need to bring a packed lunch. If your son or daughter qualifies for a free school meal then please indicate this on the reply slip. I will be returning to school but it may be more convenient if your son/ daughter goes home from Turnpike Lane or another station enroute from Tower Hill. If you do not want your child to come back to school please tick the appropriate box on the reply

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First Time at Times Square

First Time at Times Square I never forget the first time when I visited the Times Square. The excitement I felt just as a small child may feel at an amusement park: excited, curious, and anxious to do and see absolutely everything. The first thing impressed me was the smell of the Times Square. The ever changing smells of Times Square amaze me. I take a few short strides along the side walk and the smells of freshly cooked shish'ka'bobs being sold by a street vendor fills the air with a sweet fragrance of barbeque chicken. Suddenly, after a few more strides along the same wide stretch of sidewalk packed full of tourist, vendors and street performers, the air is now full of the smell of roasted peanuts, almonds, and cashews. However, not all of the smells are mouth watering. Most of the street corners have either huge round sewage drains, or rectangular ones with bars. Through the gaps and holes of these sewage drains seep such a fowl smelling odor that you soon forget any of the pleasant ones surrounding it. As I walked over one of the old odorous drains, hot steam flew up and out of it, right up my nostrils and triggered my gag reflexes. As we walk along, I stop to admire one of the many street performers along Times Square. His skin is covered from head to toe in a metallic silver paint. He is wearing a tight suit, also the same color as his skin and he is

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Creative Writing - Gratuitous Vengeance

Gratuitous Vengeance "Son, hurry up, you're going to be late for school." "Yeh whatever dad, it's nothing new." "But it's your first day!" Yes - it was my first day at school and no - I wasn't nervous, I wasn't scared, and I wasn't worried, I was ready. What's the big deal anyway? Constantly, consistently moving house and schools, you kind of adapt to it, like an animal adapting to its conditions, you know? Here we were. Shattering, scratched, small windows; crumbling, decaying, aged bricks; inexpensive, inert sheds and lots of helpless, dim morons to use for my liking. Dominating this school will be as easy as A.B.C. It wasn't exactly the best looking school but no matter, I'd be gone within a week... Okay, by my second glance, this school had some pretty mischievous competition. My main worry was Derrick Hopkins; Derrick is the guy to go to when you want to know something or need permission for something else. He controls everything in this school. I guess that'll have to change... I went up to him. "Derrick, I'm Bradley Crewe, new here, I heard about a party going on this weekend, I was wondering if I can come along? We can get acquainted." "It's not that easy kid. So no, you can't just 'come along'. Get out of here you weasel faced low life." "Weasel faced? Low life? Who do you think you are?" "I'm Derrick, but nobody cares who you are." He walked up to me and

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Creative Writing: Miss Havisham

Creative Writing - The day I was broken. As I awoke from my interrupted sleep, the sound of rushing and shouting filled my ears. It was of course the day I had been waiting for my whole life, and by the sounds of it, so had everyone else. I could hear the maids scuttling around, arranging flowers outside my front door. I could hear the clanging of knives and forks against my brand new oak table. My eyes were still closed, I felt as though my dream was finally becoming a delightful reality. Half of me didn't really want to wake up from my dream of the night before where I dreamt of the moment I walked down the aisle accompanied by my Father. I pictured how beautiful I would look, my snow coloured satin dress, flowing behind me, glistening in time with the flickering of the golden candles. I just can't wait! At long last, I opened my eyes to the elegant room I had slept in. Through my thin white silk curtains, I saw the glowing of thick snow upon the ground outside. The day just keeps getting better! The weather was just as I had hoped, and matching my stunningly elegant outfit. It seemed as though God was on my side today, and nothing could get me down. I felt such a buzz of excitement whilst looking at my wedding dress, delicately draped over my glass mirror, which reflected my gleaming fresh face as I sat up. This day, the 22nd of December was my day to shine and not

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Coursework Assignment: Creative Writing

Fallen Reflection And there he was, a boy of five in the middle of the forest clearing. He ran daintily, in his grass-stained rags, barefoot and without a care. He was careful not to trample over any of the flowers, and smiled to himself as he passed and saw his reflection in the small, clear pool of water. In his dirtied hands, he held a twig which he threw up into the air every ten steps or so, his auburn hair ruffled by the silent breeze. He stopped abruptly next to the pool of water, and his smile slowly slipped away as the water clouded and ripples formed, although nothing had touched the surface. He kneeled down next to the pool of water, and his face became emotionless, as if he no longer knew what he was doing as he stared into the pool's depths. He saw her, and his hand swept through the air and closed on a flower. Its petals were delicate, white and radiant with light. It had not yet blossomed to full magnitude but was graceful and beautiful beyond comprehension. He pulled on the stem gently, easing it in one smooth action out of the dirt and into the air, breathing in its scent. * * * * * The young girl screamed. Screams that filled the silent night air, screams of anguish and relief. And then, she was no more. She lies inside a coffin made of wood, atop a hill. Her gravestone bears no words. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she holds a book, beneath

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