Chapter 2: Plant response to elevated CO2 - DRUM - University of ...

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She switches on the old radio, balanced on the fridge roof, and the RJ’s bubbly, shiny voice spills into the quiet of the morning and spreads in concentric sound waves across the home and beyond to Heeruben as she stands calling “Aa Aa Aa,” throwing fountains of grains to the pigeons, who, obliged by old survival instincts look carefully around the small gray compound of Kothari Sadan before picking the grains on the broken slate tiles and through its crevices. Heeruben makes clucking sounds and moves slowly, shifting her weight from one foot to another. The pigeons flock around her, the ones familiar with their benefactor, venture further and are bold enough to peck at her feet. Heeruben’s compassion for pigeons has her walk slowly out of her room — the last one in the long corridor — every morning and only serves to irritate Roopaben who feels that she, herself, is more deserving of her mother in law’s concern than the stupid pigeons who shit all over the compound. And even more so, since later she has to make repeated entreaties to Sarla, Roopaben’s maid of twenty years to clean it. Daily, the soft cooing of the pigeons interjects Rasikbhai’s pooja, breaking through his concentration, during that one interval of the day where his mind dulls and relaxes into the repeated intonation of “NAMO ARIHANTAANAM” so that he feels cleansed and new, like the glittering soap commercials, in which 66
the models step out reinvigorated, brand shining new. This time is sacred to him and he guards it possessively since later, the day charges in like an army, uninvited: battleships of Sensex figures and share indexes, battalions of commodity prices, and sudden uprisings of natural disasters and political coups which Rasikbhai fights through to make notional profits. Cursing the pigeons, Rasikbhai returns the tinkling brass bell to its place in the ornately carved wooden mandir that houses marble idols, and dips his index finger into the sandalwood paste, applies a fragrant dot on the forehead and knees of the idol. He bows obsequiously, thrice, on his knees, before walking away from the pooja corner to turn on the news, welcoming the world into his small room. When Preetiben hears the stentorian drone of the newsreader, she picks out the safety pin she holds between her pressed lips and cries, “The world won’t stop spinning if you don’t watch the news today!” “The world won’t, but I will, have to be on the job twenty four hours.” The Bombay stock exchange is closed today but for Rasikbhai it is necessary to stay in tune with the world. Preetiben has now conceded to his abrupt interruptions: sudden exits from dinner tables to check the news, embarrassing cellphone rings in movie theatres, and hurried departures from 67
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ABSTRACT Title of Thesis: Monsoon c
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© Copyright by Jesal Harin Kanani
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Acknowledgements Thanks to, Mummi f
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SUMMERS IN AGAAS All I knew was I h
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water - only its coolness cascading
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(that too all dressed in white) cam
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We ran out together, beyond the ice
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At Agaas, the train chugged in only
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forgotten my Mom? I peeked outside,
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prasad (actually mohanthal) which h
Page 21 and 22: We sat under the sun, looking at a
Page 23 and 24: - cry. I stared and stared at the o
Page 25 and 26: IRISH COFFEE “Keep the front rack
Page 27 and 28: “But you said that customers alwa
Page 29 and 30: Internet too, sometimes when there
Page 31 and 32: Rohan joined us the day after Holi,
Page 33 and 34: are all the Anime DVDs and game CDs
Page 35 and 36: “I would warn you against spraine
Page 37 and 38: and mothers‐in‐law and called g
Page 39 and 40: you ignore, refusing to pay it due
Page 41 and 42: The next day I did something, I had
Page 43 and 44: dog‐eared pages. All I had to do
Page 45 and 46: it was time to get ready for office
Page 47 and 48: After the play, we moved outside to
Page 49 and 50: “Social work.” A half mocking s
Page 51 and 52: Clutching her khadi bag close to he
Page 53 and 54: advanced application of Calculus. W
Page 55 and 56: “Tarkala. How far is it form here
Page 57 and 58: “I am Megha,” she said wonderin
Page 59 and 60: the far corner of the room and twil
Page 61 and 62: only one I have right now. I will n
Page 63 and 64: Megha waved her hand. “No, no you
Page 65 and 66: on the brown walls. “Bén, you wi
Page 67 and 68: He wakes up slowly, carefully, so a
Page 69 and 70: He walks into the bathroom, stoppin
Page 71: engagement, Smita ben had become qu
Page 75 and 76: filigreed, breezy black party saree
Page 77 and 78: loves to open and close, close and
Page 79 and 80: fair, slim, homely, convent educate
Page 81 and 82: continues watching the TV and then
Page 83 and 84: Bhaveshbhai steps out of the buildi
Page 85 and 86: large oil cauldron. Bhaveshbhai ste
Page 87 and 88: some pigeons flutter away and land
Page 89 and 90: occasions. Preetiben splits the tal
Page 91 and 92: thousands in the earlier generation
Page 93 and 94: Today, she had awakened earlier tha
Page 95 and 96: (Mr. Mehta: did you begin breakfast
Page 97 and 98: eat on time, she would sleep on tim
Page 99 and 100: the loose binding; she picked up th
Page 101 and 102: comfortable way to live, but always
Page 103 and 104: wouldn’t ever admit it, not even
Page 105 and 106: the wooden lattice door (that Mr. M
Page 107 and 108: Kapur, ought to be respected. After
Page 109 and 110: on the windowsill before her neighb
Page 111 and 112: yours?” Nishant is the one who ha
Page 113 and 114: Wooden tables. Waiters in uniformed
Page 115 and 116: Then he drinks a glass of water, wa
Page 117 and 118: AmanK: Okay, I will wait for it the
Page 119 and 120: set the alarm, and spread the comfo
Page 121 and 122: He goes on to explain to me the phi
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Since tomorrow is a Sunday, Kapil a
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“Was the airline food edible?”
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“60 miles,” I say, eager to sho
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slowly over every specimen on displ
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Outside, the whole scene looks diff
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shoot straight at Varun. Barely abl
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It’s a video test I’m not happy
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ROOMATES Three Indian girls decorat
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is curd rice as if the smell of the
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FLAME OF THE FOREST Shobha thought
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it. But that means I can never step
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gave the directions to him with tre
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at her, on his watch, again on her
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knowing where she’s going.” Her
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“Hello?” “Shobha, Shilpa here
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wavy. Imagine this and then sing.
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“Yes, but after the monsoons are
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Dear Shilpa, Your phonecall changed
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themes on which they would compose
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Chapter 2: Plant response to elevated CO2 - DRUM - University of ...

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