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Ead the passage from "marriage is a private affair” by chinua achebe. "i shall never see her,” was the reply. from that night the father scarcely spoke to his son. he did not, however, cease hoping that he would realize how serious was the danger he was heading for. day and night he put him in his prayers. nnaemeka, for his own part, was very deeply affected by his father’s grief. but he kept hoping that it would pass away. if it had occurred to him that never in the history of his people had a man married a woman who spoke a different tongue, he might have been less optimistic. "it has never been heard,” was the verdict of an old man speaking a few weeks later. in that short sentence he spoke for all of his people. this man had come with others to commiserate with okeke when news went round about his son’s behaviour. by that time the son had gone back to lagos. "it has never been heard,” said the old man again with a sad shake of his head. "what did our lord say? ” asked another gentleman. "sons shall rise against their fathers; it is there in the holy book.” "it is the beginning of the end,” said another. how does this passage reinforce the traditional social hierarchy? the older men in the village tell okeke that he should respect nnaemeka’s decision. the older men in the village console nnaemeka about okeke’s attitude toward his choices. the older men in the village commiserate with okeke regarding nnaemeka’s decision to disobey him. the older men in the village think that nnaemeka should be optimistic that okeke will accept his decision.

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What is the effect of narrator's word choice on the tone of this passage? the words "my heart shrank within itself" create a fearful tone. the words "wounded his fellow" develop a remorseful tone. the words "struck harsh upon my ears" suggest an irritated tone. the words "better-omened" set a hopeful tone. excerpt from "the cabuliwallah" by rabindranath tagore i was sitting in my study, looking through the accounts, when some one entered, saluting respectfully, and stood before me. it was rahmun the cabuliwallah. at first i did not recognise him. he had no bag, nor the long hair, nor the same vigour that he used to have. but he smiled, and i knew him again. "when did you come, rahmun? " i asked him. "last evening," he said, "i was released from jail." the words struck harsh upon my ears. i had never before talked with one who had wounded his fellow, and my heart shrank within itself when i realised this; for i felt that the day would have been better-omened had he not turned up.