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

the loose binding; she picked up the coverless diary and opened it to trace the
number of her brother. Like every birthday afternoon she called up those in the
family whose calls she missed. When the phone rang at the other end, of her
brother’s home Mrs. Mehta chided herself for feeling a little nervous; she hoped
her mother would be asleep else she would have to talk to her, her mother, who
has made her feel guilty as long as she can remember. When she was young, it
was about her dark skin and the consequent problems to find her a groom. Even
today, she thought in spite of her new saree, pink lipstick and neatly combed
hair, in spite of the promise she made to herself this morning, she wouldn’t ever
get herself photographed. When she was married it was about the lack of time
for her home and family (though her husband didn’t mind that). Nowadays it
was about drinking Coke over Thumbs up. Thumbs up over coke! Mrs. Mehta
thought about the absurdity. She had tried to understand her mother –an ardent
Gandhian who had taken part in Satyagraha, she had been jailed several times in
colonial India; she still held her beliefs on self‐reliance close to heart in a
liberalized India. Her mother who looked at all the FDI and MNCs flowing into
the country with the eyes of a hawk; ready to shoot down on any traitor who ate
pizza over roti – subji, wore nike over chappals, listened to Indipop over classical
songs, read Cosmo over Navnit Samarpan. As a result, Mrs. Mehta her
93