Reading Comprehension

That repartee is best which leaves the addressee _________.

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage.

The essential quality of repartee, according to the author, is _______.

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage.

Which of the following options best describes the inherent contradiction in a good repartee?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage.

The effectiveness of a repartee is essentially decided by _______.

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage.

The humorist aiming his repartee at rank and might has to be careful because _________.

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage.

The information in the passage suggests that the author would regard which of the following actions by the management of Company X as potentially harmful to the company's shareholders?

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

The 1980s have come to be regarded as the decade of corporate consolidation in the United States, with the number of mergers and their dollar value both setting records. Many public forums have questioned, on both social and economic grounds, the merits of this takeover frenzy. Even more controversial than the mergers themselves, however, is the reaction of the management of target firms. No longer is management content to be passive or to put up minimal resistance in the face of an unwelcome takeover attempt. Indeed, the responses of target managements have become as imaginative as the methods used by the would–be acquirers. These so–called antitakeover tactics have received nearly universal condemnation from government regulatory bodies, the financial press, and some academic publications. Why is there so much criticism when management resists takeovers? At the most general level, such criticism is based on studies that find a negative return to shareholders when a negotiated (friendly) merger is unsuccessful. These studies examine the cumulative return from the period just prior to the first public announcement of the proposed merger through the announcement of cancellation. Results range from a total return of –9.02 per cent to + 3.68 per cent, with an average of –2.88 percent. In unsuccessful mergers, therefore, stockholders in target firms lose on average nearly 3 per cent of the shares' value.

But looking at the returns only through the termination date can be misleading. Other studies examining the period from six months prior to an offer to six months after the offer have found that the total return averages nearly +36 per cent, even though the offer was unsuccessful. Given the typical stock market reaction to unsuccessful negotiated mergers, this is a curious finding. The explanation for this seeming anomaly emerges when firms are divided into two groups: those eventually acquired by some other bidder, and those not acquired. Firms that were not acquired eventually lost the entire 36 per cent return. But firms subsequently acquired, earned an additional 20 per cent return above the initial 36 per cent, earning shareholders a total return of 56 per cent. Those earnings compare favorably to the overall average return of 30 percent earned by shareholders & of all companies successfully acquired. These results suggest that some form of resistance by management may be desirable. Playing hard to get may influence the initial suitor to increase the bid, or it may permit time for competing bids to be submitted. It is possible, however, to have too much of a good thing. When management actions are designed solely to eliminate a takeover by a specific bidder, then shareholders may be harmed. Nevertheless, antitakeover tactics do not deserve the blanket condemnation they receive in the press.

Which of the following options is true?

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

My parents were atto rneys: my father, a criminal lawyer and my mother, a negligence lawyer. They were the perfect left–brain/right–brain combination, my father was intuitive and my mother, all reason – qualities that, when balanced, matter the most in business.

The first five years of my life, we lived in Shanghai, China (my father was then in Army Intelligence). My clearest memories are of riding around in a rickshaw with my amah (nanny) and “grazing” at street food stalls (much to my mother’s horror). Because life was so dangerous then (fear of being “shanghai’d”), I was sent off to Sacred Heart Convent day school (much to my Orthodox Jewish grandmother’s horror).

When we fled the closing Red Curtain (the last plane out), we moved back to our apartment on Eleventh Street, between First and Second avenues in Manhattan. In the years dominated by the middle–class flight to the suburbs, I was the quintessential city kid. I’ve since wondered whether being outside the mainstream later helped me view mainstream America with a more objective eye.

Growing up, I spent more time with my maternal grandparents than I did at home. My grandmother was born in America, while my grandfather had come from Russia (claiming, convincingly, that he’d escaped on a horse). They lived a few blocks away from us, where they owned some tenements. My grandfather’s maxim was: If you can’t watch it, don’t’ buy it. So I’d sit out with him on Second Avenue in bentwood chairs to help him “watch” their buildings.

And that’s where I began to learn about marketing.

He had a haberdashery store and together we would decorate the front windows. Then we’d take our chairs back outside and wait. Few customers walked by without being hooked by our display, we’d pick up our chairs and go inside again to re–do the window. Repositioning a tie at a jauntier angle or changing the colour of a shirt, I learned, could convey a different message.

Meanwhile, my grandmother was upstairs in their apartment above the store, keeping the books. Every noontime, like clock–work, she’d take over running the store from my grandfather and they’d pass one another on the stairs, rarely exchanging a word–a marvelous business shorthand. After lunch, they’d again slip by each other in virtual silence, as they returned to their respective posts. I often think of them when I give my TrendView seminars and mention the trend of Cashing Out: theirs was the perfect Mom–and–Pop business, honest and human–scale, a business that ran so well it transcended language.

It was also my grandmother’s job to collect the monthly rents; I’d “help” her with that, too. On the first day of the month, the tenants would drop by to pay their rents – all of eight, twelve, twenty dollars a month. She’d sit at the mahogany table in her dining room, and chat with them in Yiddish, Russian, some German, and Ukrainian.

The business worked. It was personal and hands–on, incorporating family and an occasional friend. There was built–in–child care for my sister Mechele and me. Family dinner conversations centered around daily problems and solutions – work was never something that stopped at 5 p.m. We talked about the real estate business, the store, my parents’ legal cases. Everybody knew everything, and we all helped out where we could. The objective was deceptively simple: get the work done and appreciate the process.

Years later, when I started to formulate the blueprint for BrainReserve, I structured it instinctively around what I had learned from my family. I began my filling up the ranks of the company with my sister and her friends and my friends. Many of my former colleagues were horrified. If you want to be a marketing consultant, act like one, they told me. Give your staff important–sounding titles. Develop a scientific approach [cut–and–dried) to what you’re doing. Don’t share any information with outsiders. And you must hire some M.B.A.’s.

Instead, I hired my best friend, Lys Marigold, a journalist, who turned out to be a genius at generating Big Ideas, at knowing something about everything, and at translating marketing into English. She worked with us for ten years, always claiming that she was only there “temporarily,” and when she left to spend more time in Europe, we were all devastated. It has turned out fine though – we just fax her in Amsterdam with questions and drag her back into the office whenever she comes home. She came home to work on this book.

My sister, Mechele Flaum, now manages BrainReserve – she runs operations, does strategic planning, and oversees client contentment. Plus, following the family heritage, she’s still watching over our grandparents’ buildings.

The point is that I never wanted a traditional corporation, with each employee sitting robotically in his or her office. I tried to create a community for thinking – for I believe what inspires productivity the most is freedom –and freedom begets creativity. Having a free and flexible environment provides a place where people can work together to focus on the future.

Author's way of running businesses can be best described as ________.

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

My parents were atto rneys: my father, a criminal lawyer and my mother, a negligence lawyer. They were the perfect left–brain/right–brain combination, my father was intuitive and my mother, all reason – qualities that, when balanced, matter the most in business.

The first five years of my life, we lived in Shanghai, China (my father was then in Army Intelligence). My clearest memories are of riding around in a rickshaw with my amah (nanny) and “grazing” at street food stalls (much to my mother’s horror). Because life was so dangerous then (fear of being “shanghai’d”), I was sent off to Sacred Heart Convent day school (much to my Orthodox Jewish grandmother’s horror).

When we fled the closing Red Curtain (the last plane out), we moved back to our apartment on Eleventh Street, between First and Second avenues in Manhattan. In the years dominated by the middle–class flight to the suburbs, I was the quintessential city kid. I’ve since wondered whether being outside the mainstream later helped me view mainstream America with a more objective eye.

Growing up, I spent more time with my maternal grandparents than I did at home. My grandmother was born in America, while my grandfather had come from Russia (claiming, convincingly, that he’d escaped on a horse). They lived a few blocks away from us, where they owned some tenements. My grandfather’s maxim was: If you can’t watch it, don’t’ buy it. So I’d sit out with him on Second Avenue in bentwood chairs to help him “watch” their buildings.

And that’s where I began to learn about marketing.

He had a haberdashery store and together we would decorate the front windows. Then we’d take our chairs back outside and wait. Few customers walked by without being hooked by our display, we’d pick up our chairs and go inside again to re–do the window. Repositioning a tie at a jauntier angle or changing the colour of a shirt, I learned, could convey a different message.

Meanwhile, my grandmother was upstairs in their apartment above the store, keeping the books. Every noontime, like clock–work, she’d take over running the store from my grandfather and they’d pass one another on the stairs, rarely exchanging a word–a marvelous business shorthand. After lunch, they’d again slip by each other in virtual silence, as they returned to their respective posts. I often think of them when I give my TrendView seminars and mention the trend of Cashing Out: theirs was the perfect Mom–and–Pop business, honest and human–scale, a business that ran so well it transcended language.

It was also my grandmother’s job to collect the monthly rents; I’d “help” her with that, too. On the first day of the month, the tenants would drop by to pay their rents – all of eight, twelve, twenty dollars a month. She’d sit at the mahogany table in her dining room, and chat with them in Yiddish, Russian, some German, and Ukrainian.

The business worked. It was personal and hands–on, incorporating family and an occasional friend. There was built–in–child care for my sister Mechele and me. Family dinner conversations centered around daily problems and solutions – work was never something that stopped at 5 p.m. We talked about the real estate business, the store, my parents’ legal cases. Everybody knew everything, and we all helped out where we could. The objective was deceptively simple: get the work done and appreciate the process.

Years later, when I started to formulate the blueprint for BrainReserve, I structured it instinctively around what I had learned from my family. I began my filling up the ranks of the company with my sister and her friends and my friends. Many of my former colleagues were horrified. If you want to be a marketing consultant, act like one, they told me. Give your staff important–sounding titles. Develop a scientific approach [cut–and–dried) to what you’re doing. Don’t share any information with outsiders. And you must hire some M.B.A.’s.

Instead, I hired my best friend, Lys Marigold, a journalist, who turned out to be a genius at generating Big Ideas, at knowing something about everything, and at translating marketing into English. She worked with us for ten years, always claiming that she was only there “temporarily,” and when she left to spend more time in Europe, we were all devastated. It has turned out fine though – we just fax her in Amsterdam with questions and drag her back into the office whenever she comes home. She came home to work on this book.

My sister, Mechele Flaum, now manages BrainReserve – she runs operations, does strategic planning, and oversees client contentment. Plus, following the family heritage, she’s still watching over our grandparents’ buildings.

The point is that I never wanted a traditional corporation, with each employee sitting robotically in his or her office. I tried to create a community for thinking – for I believe what inspires productivity the most is freedom –and freedom begets creativity. Having a free and flexible environment provides a place where people can work together to focus on the future.

What is the author's view about marketing communication?

Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

My parents were atto rneys: my father, a criminal lawyer and my mother, a negligence lawyer. They were the perfect left–brain/right–brain combination, my father was intuitive and my mother, all reason – qualities that, when balanced, matter the most in business.

The first five years of my life, we lived in Shanghai, China (my father was then in Army Intelligence). My clearest memories are of riding around in a rickshaw with my amah (nanny) and “grazing” at street food stalls (much to my mother’s horror). Because life was so dangerous then (fear of being “shanghai’d”), I was sent off to Sacred Heart Convent day school (much to my Orthodox Jewish grandmother’s horror).

When we fled the closing Red Curtain (the last plane out), we moved back to our apartment on Eleventh Street, between First and Second avenues in Manhattan. In the years dominated by the middle–class flight to the suburbs, I was the quintessential city kid. I’ve since wondered whether being outside the mainstream later helped me view mainstream America with a more objective eye.

Growing up, I spent more time with my maternal grandparents than I did at home. My grandmother was born in America, while my grandfather had come from Russia (claiming, convincingly, that he’d escaped on a horse). They lived a few blocks away from us, where they owned some tenements. My grandfather’s maxim was: If you can’t watch it, don’t’ buy it. So I’d sit out with him on Second Avenue in bentwood chairs to help him “watch” their buildings.

And that’s where I began to learn about marketing.

He had a haberdashery store and together we would decorate the front windows. Then we’d take our chairs back outside and wait. Few customers walked by without being hooked by our display, we’d pick up our chairs and go inside again to re–do the window. Repositioning a tie at a jauntier angle or changing the colour of a shirt, I learned, could convey a different message.

Meanwhile, my grandmother was upstairs in their apartment above the store, keeping the books. Every noontime, like clock–work, she’d take over running the store from my grandfather and they’d pass one another on the stairs, rarely exchanging a word–a marvelous business shorthand. After lunch, they’d again slip by each other in virtual silence, as they returned to their respective posts. I often think of them when I give my TrendView seminars and mention the trend of Cashing Out: theirs was the perfect Mom–and–Pop business, honest and human–scale, a business that ran so well it transcended language.

It was also my grandmother’s job to collect the monthly rents; I’d “help” her with that, too. On the first day of the month, the tenants would drop by to pay their rents – all of eight, twelve, twenty dollars a month. She’d sit at the mahogany table in her dining room, and chat with them in Yiddish, Russian, some German, and Ukrainian.

The business worked. It was personal and hands–on, incorporating family and an occasional friend. There was built–in–child care for my sister Mechele and me. Family dinner conversations centered around daily problems and solutions – work was never something that stopped at 5 p.m. We talked about the real estate business, the store, my parents’ legal cases. Everybody knew everything, and we all helped out where we could. The objective was deceptively simple: get the work done and appreciate the process.

Years later, when I started to formulate the blueprint for BrainReserve, I structured it instinctively around what I had learned from my family. I began my filling up the ranks of the company with my sister and her friends and my friends. Many of my former colleagues were horrified. If you want to be a marketing consultant, act like one, they told me. Give your staff important–sounding titles. Develop a scientific approach [cut–and–dried) to what you’re doing. Don’t share any information with outsiders. And you must hire some M.B.A.’s.

Instead, I hired my best friend, Lys Marigold, a journalist, who turned out to be a genius at generating Big Ideas, at knowing something about everything, and at translating marketing into English. She worked with us for ten years, always claiming that she was only there “temporarily,” and when she left to spend more time in Europe, we were all devastated. It has turned out fine though – we just fax her in Amsterdam with questions and drag her back into the office whenever she comes home. She came home to work on this book.

My sister, Mechele Flaum, now manages BrainReserve – she runs operations, does strategic planning, and oversees client contentment. Plus, following the family heritage, she’s still watching over our grandparents’ buildings.

The point is that I never wanted a traditional corporation, with each employee sitting robotically in his or her office. I tried to create a community for thinking – for I believe what inspires productivity the most is freedom –and freedom begets creativity. Having a free and flexible environment provides a place where people can work together to focus on the future.

Explain: 'a creature of the shadows and silence'.

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage.

Now, let us speak of one of the most prolific writers of her time, Anne Silvia Spencer. Her writings and pieces of work very aptly reflect not only the social set–up of that age but also what she thought about the same. Her writings give us a clear view of what kind of a human being she was. The most famous of her works, her autobiography, “The story of a simple girl” presents to us the way she acquired great heights as an author.

Her father, Charles Spencer, was, as Anne later wrote, a very peculiar person. Heir to a fortune, educated at Harrow and Cambridge, he was nevertheless a complete domestic tyrant. After bearing him ten children, his gentle wife had little strength left for struggle against him, and the children never dared oppose his wishes.

Yet Anne’s childhood was happy. She romped and studied with her eldest brother, learnt Greek and French, read widely and wrote poetic tragedies. Her own tragedy began at fifteen with a cough and an injury to her back, which resulted in increasingly bad health. Then her mother died. Four years later, her father decided to sell the country home. The large family moved from house to house until her father bought No. 72 Deer Haven. There Anne's health grew worse, and she became a creature of the shadows and silence.

As the years passed, the family grew used to her withdrawn life. She had a certain independence, for an uncle had left her a small income. But her brothers and sisters were at the mercy of Mr. Spencer's harsh rules, which hung over the household like thunder in heavy weather. Chief among them was the absolute refusal to let his daughters marry. He prevented the marriage of Anne’s gay, dance–loving sister, Helena, and the scenes that followed broke Anne’s heart. Yet she remained devoted to her father. It was devotion that served to strengthen the walls of her prison.

She didn’t talk much to her siblings and definitely not to her father. Irrespective of her solitary existence, she was pretty fond of her brothers and siblings. As per her feelings for her father, she herself could not decide (as she writes in her autobiography) whether she had a feeling of loathe or veneration for her father.

What broke Anne's heart?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage.

Now, let us speak of one of the most prolific writers of her time, Anne Silvia Spencer. Her writings and pieces of work very aptly reflect not only the social set–up of that age but also what she thought about the same. Her writings give us a clear view of what kind of a human being she was. The most famous of her works, her autobiography, “The story of a simple girl” presents to us the way she acquired great heights as an author.

Her father, Charles Spencer, was, as Anne later wrote, a very peculiar person. Heir to a fortune, educated at Harrow and Cambridge, he was nevertheless a complete domestic tyrant. After bearing him ten children, his gentle wife had little strength left for struggle against him, and the children never dared oppose his wishes.

Yet Anne’s childhood was happy. She romped and studied with her eldest brother, learnt Greek and French, read widely and wrote poetic tragedies. Her own tragedy began at fifteen with a cough and an injury to her back, which resulted in increasingly bad health. Then her mother died. Four years later, her father decided to sell the country home. The large family moved from house to house until her father bought No. 72 Deer Haven. There Anne's health grew worse, and she became a creature of the shadows and silence.

As the years passed, the family grew used to her withdrawn life. She had a certain independence, for an uncle had left her a small income. But her brothers and sisters were at the mercy of Mr. Spencer's harsh rules, which hung over the household like thunder in heavy weather. Chief among them was the absolute refusal to let his daughters marry. He prevented the marriage of Anne’s gay, dance–loving sister, Helena, and the scenes that followed broke Anne’s heart. Yet she remained devoted to her father. It was devotion that served to strengthen the walls of her prison.

She didn’t talk much to her siblings and definitely not to her father. Irrespective of her solitary existence, she was pretty fond of her brothers and siblings. As per her feelings for her father, she herself could not decide (as she writes in her autobiography) whether she had a feeling of loathe or veneration for her father.

Which of the following options cannot be inferred from the passage about managements of target firms prior to the current takeover frenzy?

1. They used more imaginative tactics to resist takeovers.
2. They were more concerned about shareholders' interests.
3. They rarely took strong action to resist takeover attempts.

   Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

   The 1980s have come to be regarded as the decade of corporate consolidation in the United States, with the number of mergers and their dollar value both setting records. Many public forums have questioned, on both social and economic grounds, the merits of this takeover frenzy. Even more controversial than the mergers themselves, however, is the reaction of the management of target firms. No longer is management content to be passive or to put up minimal resistance in the face of an unwelcome takeover attempt. Indeed, the responses of target managements have become as imaginative as the methods used by the would–be acquirers. These so–called antitakeover tactics have received nearly universal condemnation from government regulatory bodies, the financial press, and some academic publications. Why is there so much criticism when management resists takeovers? At the most general level, such criticism is based on studies that find a negative return to shareholders when a negotiated (friendly) merger is unsuccessful. These studies examine the cumulative return from the period just prior to the first public announcement of the proposed merger through the announcement of cancellation. Results range from a total return of –9.02 per cent to + 3.68 per cent, with an average of –2.88 percent. In unsuccessful mergers, therefore, stockholders in target firms lose on average nearly 3 per cent of the shares' value.

   But looking at the returns only through the termination date can be misleading. Other studies examining the period from six months prior to an offer to six months after the offer have found that the total return averages nearly +36 per cent, even though the offer was unsuccessful. Given the typical stock market reaction to unsuccessful negotiated mergers, this is a curious finding. The explanation for this seeming anomaly emerges when firms are divided into two groups: those eventually acquired by some other bidder, and those not acquired. Firms that were not acquired eventually lost the entire 36 per cent return. But firms subsequently acquired, earned an additional 20 per cent return above the initial 36 per cent, earning shareholders a total return of 56 per cent. Those earnings compare favorably to the overall average return of 30 percent earned by shareholders & of all companies successfully acquired. These results suggest that some form of resistance by management may be desirable. Playing hard to get may influence the initial suitor to increase the bid, or it may permit time for competing bids to be submitted. It is possible, however, to have too much of a good thing. When management actions are designed solely to eliminate a takeover by a specific bidder, then shareholders may be harmed. Nevertheless, antitakeover tactics do not deserve the blanket condemnation they receive in the press.

    

Anne's father was 'a complete domestic tyrant'. It implies that ______.

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage.

Now, let us speak of one of the most prolific writers of her time, Anne Silvia Spencer. Her writings and pieces of work very aptly reflect not only the social set–up of that age but also what she thought about the same. Her writings give us a clear view of what kind of a human being she was. The most famous of her works, her autobiography, “The story of a simple girl” presents to us the way she acquired great heights as an author.

Her father, Charles Spencer, was, as Anne later wrote, a very peculiar person. Heir to a fortune, educated at Harrow and Cambridge, he was nevertheless a complete domestic tyrant. After bearing him ten children, his gentle wife had little strength left for struggle against him, and the children never dared oppose his wishes.

Yet Anne’s childhood was happy. She romped and studied with her eldest brother, learnt Greek and French, read widely and wrote poetic tragedies. Her own tragedy began at fifteen with a cough and an injury to her back, which resulted in increasingly bad health. Then her mother died. Four years later, her father decided to sell the country home. The large family moved from house to house until her father bought No. 72 Deer Haven. There Anne's health grew worse, and she became a creature of the shadows and silence.

As the years passed, the family grew used to her withdrawn life. She had a certain independence, for an uncle had left her a small income. But her brothers and sisters were at the mercy of Mr. Spencer's harsh rules, which hung over the household like thunder in heavy weather. Chief among them was the absolute refusal to let his daughters marry. He prevented the marriage of Anne’s gay, dance–loving sister, Helena, and the scenes that followed broke Anne’s heart. Yet she remained devoted to her father. It was devotion that served to strengthen the walls of her prison.

She didn’t talk much to her siblings and definitely not to her father. Irrespective of her solitary existence, she was pretty fond of her brothers and siblings. As per her feelings for her father, she herself could not decide (as she writes in her autobiography) whether she had a feeling of loathe or veneration for her father.

What does the last sentence of the passage imply?

Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage.

Now, let us speak of one of the most prolific writers of her time, Anne Silvia Spencer. Her writings and pieces of work very aptly reflect not only the social set–up of that age but also what she thought about the same. Her writings give us a clear view of what kind of a human being she was. The most famous of her works, her autobiography, “The story of a simple girl” presents to us the way she acquired great heights as an author.

Her father, Charles Spencer, was, as Anne later wrote, a very peculiar person. Heir to a fortune, educated at Harrow and Cambridge, he was nevertheless a complete domestic tyrant. After bearing him ten children, his gentle wife had little strength left for struggle against him, and the children never dared oppose his wishes.

Yet Anne’s childhood was happy. She romped and studied with her eldest brother, learnt Greek and French, read widely and wrote poetic tragedies. Her own tragedy began at fifteen with a cough and an injury to her back, which resulted in increasingly bad health. Then her mother died. Four years later, her father decided to sell the country home. The large family moved from house to house until her father bought No. 72 Deer Haven. There Anne's health grew worse, and she became a creature of the shadows and silence.

As the years passed, the family grew used to her withdrawn life. She had a certain independence, for an uncle had left her a small income. But her brothers and sisters were at the mercy of Mr. Spencer's harsh rules, which hung over the household like thunder in heavy weather. Chief among them was the absolute refusal to let his daughters marry. He prevented the marriage of Anne’s gay, dance–loving sister, Helena, and the scenes that followed broke Anne’s heart. Yet she remained devoted to her father. It was devotion that served to strengthen the walls of her prison.

She didn’t talk much to her siblings and definitely not to her father. Irrespective of her solitary existence, she was pretty fond of her brothers and siblings. As per her feelings for her father, she herself could not decide (as she writes in her autobiography) whether she had a feeling of loathe or veneration for her father.

The author of the passage would agree with which of the following ______.

1. the armed forces deployed in the state have acted with impunity
2. the protests against the Manorama incident actually represent the bottled up rage of the people
3. a new political strategy has to be evolved to deal with the situation at hand
4. the AFSPA has been the primary cause of alienation among the people in the state

   Directions: Answer the question based on the following passage.

   The unabated protests in Manipur over the death in custody of Thangjam Manoroma Devi show that the Centre and the State Government need to address the situation with measures that go beyond token gestures. Thirty–two–year–old Manoroma was found shot dead a few hours after her arrest by personnel of the Assam Rifles on the suspicion that she was an activist of the secessionist People's Liberation Army.

   The Manoroma incident is not the first of its kind. Going by the number of atrocities reported, the security forces deployed in the State seem to conduct themselves with total impunity. In this, they are enabled by the Armed Forces (Manipur and Assam) Special Powers Act (AFSPA) of 1958, amended in 1972, and in force in the whole of Manipur since 1980. This gives the security forces not just extraordinary powers but also uncommon protection. Once an area is declared disturbed under the Act, an officer of any rank, including a non–commissioned officer, can enter and search a place without a warrant, destroy it, and carry out an arrest on reasonable suspicion that a person has committed or is about to commit a cognizable offence! It allows the killing of a person who in the opinion of the officer violates prohibitory orders. But the most shocking aspect of the Act is this: it shuts out avenues of redress by barring all legal proceedings against security forces personnel without the prior sanction of the Central Government. The Act was brought in to deal with the insurgency in the State, but its sweeping provisions have only led to a long list of human rights violations by the security forces, worsening the sense of alienation among the people of the State and fuelling the insurgency.

   The protests against the Manoroma incident are in reality an explosion of years of bottled–up rage against the actions that are covered up by this Act. It is the responsibility of the Centre to ensure that the situation does not deteriorate any further. Without doubt, the solution to the present problem in Manipur lies in taking a close and honest look at the draconian provisions of the Act and devising a political strategy to deal with the insurgency instead of depending on the armed forces to sort it out.