"In her right hand was the stack of roti, topped with the new roti that had been in the pan--which was still gleaming--a flaky, beckoning nourishment, slightly charred and golden in spots. And, grunting, face ashen and gaunt, she extended the breads to P.V., wrinkled right hand shaking out an urgency for her to take them. But when P.V. reached for that right hand, Nani moaned and extended her left..."