Which of the following is not a ‘Tiger project’ ? ?->(Show Answer!)

1. Which of the following is not a ‘Tiger project’ ?

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MCQ-> There are 21 employees working in a division, out of whom 10 are special-skilled employees (SE) and the remaining are regular-skilled employees (RE). During the next five months, the division has to complete five projects every month. Out of the 25 projects, 5 projects are "challenging", while the remaining ones are "standard". Each of the challenging projects has to be completed in different months. Every month, five teams — T1 T2, T3, T4 and T5, work on one project each. T1, T2, T3, T4 and T5 are allotted the challenging project in the first, second, third, fourth and fifth month, respectively. The team assigned the challenging project has one more employee than the rest. In the first month, T1 has one more SE than T2, T2 has one more SE than T3, T 3 has one more SE than T4, and T4 has one more SE than T5. Between two successive months, the composition of the teams changes as follows: a. The team allotted the challenging project, gets two SE from the team which was allotted the challenging project in the previous month. In exchange, one RE is shifted from the former team to the latter team. b. After the above exchange, if T1 has any SE and T5 has any RE, then one SE is shifted from T1 to T5, and one RE is shifted from T5 to T1. Also, if T2 has any SE and T4 has any RE, then one SE is shifted from T2 to T4, and one RE is shifted from T4 to T2. Each standard project has a total of 100 credit points, while each challenging project has 200 credit points. The credit points are equally shared between the employees included in that team.The number of times in which the composition of team T2 and the number of times in which composition of team T4 remained unchanged in two successive months are:
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MCQ-> Billie Holiday died a few weeks ago. I have been unable until now to write about her, but since she will survive many who receive longer obituaries, a short delay in one small appreciation will not harm her or us. When she died we — the musicians, critics, all who were ever transfixed by the most heart-rending voice of the past generation — grieved bitterly. There was no reason to. Few people pursed self-destruction more whole-heartedly than she, and when the pursuit was at an end, at the age of 44, she had turned herself into a physical and artistic wreck. Some of us tried gallantly to pretend otherwise, taking comfort in the occasional moments when she still sounded like a ravaged echo of her greatness. Others had not even the heart to see and listen any more. We preferred to stay home and, if old and lucky enough to own the incomparable records of her heyday from 1937 to 1946, many of which are not even available on British LP, to recreate those coarse-textured, sinuous, sensual and unbearable sad noises which gave her a sure corner of immortality. Her physical death called, if anything, for relief rather than sorrow. What sort of middle age would she have faced without the voice to earn money for her drinks and fixes, without the looks — and in her day she was hauntingly beautiful — to attract the men she needed, without business sense, without anything but the disinterested worship of ageing men who had heard and seen her in her glory?And yet, irrational though it is, our grief expressed Billie Holiday’s art, that of a woman for whom one must be sorry. The great blues singers, to whom she may be justly compared, played their game from strength. Lionesses, though often wounded or at bay (did not Bessie Smith call herself ‘a tiger, ready to jump’?), their tragic equivalents were Cleopatra and Phaedra; Holiday’s was an embittered Ophelia. She was the Puccini heroine among blues singers, or rather among jazz singers, for though she sang a cabaret version of the blues incomparably, her natural idiom was the pop song. Her unique achievement was to have twisted this into a genuine expression of the major passions by means of a total disregard of its sugary tunes, or indeed of any tune other than her own few delicately crying elongated notes, phrased like Bessie Smith or Louis Armstrong in sackcloth, sung in a thin, gritty, haunting voice whose natural mood was an unresigned and voluptuous welcome for the pains of love. Nobody has sung, or will sing, Bess’s songs from Porgy as she did. It was this combination of bitterness and physical submission, as of someone lying still while watching his legs being amputated, which gives such a blood-curdling quality to her Strange Fruit, the anti-lynching poem which she turned into an unforgettable art song. Suffering was her profession; but she did not accept it.Little need be said about her horrifying life, which she described with emotional, though hardly with factual, truth in her autobiography Lady Sings the Blues. After an adolescence in which self-respect was measured by a girl’s insistence on picking up the coins thrown to her by clients with her hands, she was plainly beyond help. She did not lack it, for she had the flair and scrupulous honesty of John Hammond to launch her, the best musicians of the 1930s to accompany her — notably Teddy Wilson, Frankie Newton and Lester Young — the boundless devotion of all serious connoisseurs, and much public success. It was too late to arrest a career of systematic embittered self-immolation. To be born with both beauty and selfrespect in the Negro ghetto of Baltimore in 1915 was too much of a handicap, even without rape at the age of 10 and drug-addiction in her teens. But, while she destroyed herself, she sang, unmelodious, profound and heartbreaking. It is impossible not to weep for her, or not to hate the world which made her what she was.Why will Billie Holiday survive many who receive longer obituaries?
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