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

large oil cauldron. Bhaveshbhai steps back, letting the man leave with his packet.
He looks at the flies on the jalebis — too small and insignificant for the
mithaiwallah to bother with. Then he straightens up, noticing the other men
appearing taller than him. He stands till his plastic bag is completely crushed
and crumpled by the crowd, the boy’s eyes fall on him and he raises his brows.
“Two kilo jalebi, one kilo fafda gaathiya.”
“Garam,” he adds, and then wilts under the boy’s gaze. He wonders if he
could ask him to add a little more of papaya chutney which Aayushi swears by.
“Add some more chutney,” he says in a built‐up gruff voice. The boy
mutters something under his breath so that Bhaveshbhai feels guilty, greedy
asking for extra chutney. The boy throws the packet. Armed, Bhaveshbhai steps
out of the claustrophobic crowd, the stale, much breathed in air into the free,
light air and coffee smells of Kings Circle.
Just this morning, Roopaben had complained to her sister in law,
Heenabhabhi, hoping that she would put some sense into Aayushi’s head,
something, at which Heenabhabhi had often succeeded and she, failed. Through
crackling long distance lines, she explained how early Aayushi awoke every
Sunday morning to look at the matrimonial columns of the Times, an activity
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