Amrita is forced to submit to an arranged marriage though she loves another. As long as she remains the image of glorified Indian womanhood, she blends into the background. She grows corns standing on the pedestal and steps down to do what pleases her. A few breaths of unfettered air were all she could take before her virtue is irrevocable stained by an unsuitable lover. All too soon, the price of illicit love exceeds its pleasures. Her parents condemn her, her sons despise her, and her husband tightens the net of matrimony despite her infidelity. There is shame and blame and a devouring isolation. In an attempt to retain her sanity, she flees to the Himalayas. In those lofty reaches, she finds a startlingly simple solution to her problems—she has to look inwards for the peace that eluded her. No one else could give her that