conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first five paragraphs for a book with the title 'A Suitable Boy'?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A Suitable Boy
  The power to whose judgment, wisdom and patriotism this high prerogative has been entrusted cannot relieve itself of the responsibility by choosing other agencies upon which the power shall be devolved, nor can it substitute the judgment, wisdom and patriotism of any other body for those to which alone the people have seen fit to confide this sovereign trust.
  Small, cheerful Mr Shastri, the Advocate-General, rose smilingly to his feet. His stiff white collar had gone limp with sweat. 'Your Lordships please. A slight cor-rec-tion to my learned friend. Date of vesting is au-to-ma-tic with President's assent. So act is ac-ti-va-ted at once.' Although this was his first interruption, it was offered with undramatic and amiable courtesy. Mr Shastri's English was not elegant (he pronounced 'carte blanche', for instance, as 'ka-thee bi-lan-chee'), nor his manner of advocacy fluent. But he argued superbly if simply from first principles (or, as his irreverent juniors might say, prin-ci-ples), and there were few lawyers in the state, perhaps in the country, who were a match for him.
  The Raja of Marh, who, owing to both heat and sloth, had been drowsing off while leaning further and further forward in his chair, suddenly came back to life on hearing his name. He floundered around in confusion for some time, unable to place himself in his surroundings after his fleshly dreams.
  The lawyer turned around, his hand raised slightly upwards in a gesture of placation. He whispered an explanation. The Raja of Marh stared blankly and uncomprehendingly at him, then, sensing that nothing had been said that harmed his interests, became somnolent once again.
  Thus the argument progressed. Those outsiders who had come with the expectation of high or low drama were deeply disappointed. Many of the litigants themselves were mystified by what was going on. They did not know that Bannerji would be on his feet for five days on behalf of the applicants, that this would be followed by five days of Shastri for the state and two final days for Bannerji's rebuttal. They had expected skirmishes and fireworks, the clang of sword on shield. What they were getting instead was an ecumenical but soporific fricassee of Hodge v. The Queen, Jatindra Nath Gupta v. Province of Bihar, and Schechter Poultry Corp. v. United States.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know two more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Malati, meanwhile, had the audience charmed. At Sir Toby's line, 'Here comes the little villain—How now, my nettle of India?' everyone cheered, especially a claque of medical students. And there was another great round of applause at the interval (which Mr Barua had placed in the middle of Act III) for Maria and Sir Toby. Mrs Rupa Mehra had to be restrained from going backstage to congratulate Lata and Malati. Even Kabir-as-Malvolio had so far proven to be innocuous, and she had laughed with the rest of the audience at his gecking and gulling.
  Kabir had donned the accent of the officious and unpopular Registrar of the university, and—whether this would prove beneficial for Mr Barua's future or not—it increased the present enjoyment of the students. Dr Kishen Chand Seth, in fact, was Malvolio's only supporter, insisting loudly in the interval that what was being done to him was indefensible.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Lata waved from the window as the train pulled out of Brahmpur Junction. Haresh appeared relaxed and happy, and that, she found, made her happy too. Tears came to her eyes at the thought of leaving her mother. She looked at Haresh for a second, and then turned to the view. In a few minutes they would pass into the countryside.
  An hour or so later, during a halt at one of the smaller railway stations, she saw a small crowd of monkeys. They became aware of her looking out at them and, anticipating a sympathetic soul, approached her window. She glanced at Haresh: he was taking a nap. It amazed her how he was able to go to sleep for ten or twenty minutes at a time whenever or wherever he wanted to.
  She threw them a few biscuits: they gathered around, chattering and insistent. She looked for a moment or two at her hennaed hands, took out a musammi, peeled the thick green skin with care, and began to distribute the segments. The monkeys gobbled them down instantly. The whistle had blown when Lata noticed a rather old monkey, sitting alone almost at the end of the platform.
  As the train began to move, Lata quickly reached down into the bag of fruit for another musammi, and threw it in his direction. He moved towards it, but the others, seeing it roll along, began running towards it too; and before she could see what had become of it, the train had steamed out of the station.
  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser..
  All rights reserved. He moved towards it, but the others, seeing it roll along, began running towards it too; and before she could see what had become of it, the train had steamed out of the station.
  As the train began to move, Lata quickly reached down into the bag of fruit for another musammi, and threw it in his direction. The whistle had blown when Lata noticed a rather old monkey, sitting alone almost at the end of the platform. The monkeys gobbled them down instantly. She looked for a moment or two at her hennaed hands, took out a musammi, peeled the thick green skin with care, and began to distribute the segments.
  She threw them a few biscuits: they gathered around, chattering and insistent. It amazed her how he was able to go to sleep for ten or twenty minutes at a time whenever or wherever he wanted to. She glanced at Haresh: he was taking a nap. They became aware of her looking out at them and, anticipating a sympathetic soul, approached her window.
  An hour or so later, during a halt at one of the smaller railway stations, she saw a small crowd of monkeys. In a few minutes they would pass into the countryside. She looked at Haresh for a second, and then turned to the view. Tears came to her eyes at the thought of leaving her mother. Haresh appeared relaxed and happy, and that, she found, made her happy too.Lata waved from the window as the train pulled out of Brahmpur Junction