Tulsi's cousin who got married last week is only twenty-one, and her older sister is next on the marriage list at age twenty, which means there will be huge pressure after that for Tulsi herself to find a husband. I asked her if she wanted to ever get married and she said:

"Noooooooooooooooooooooo . . ."

And the word drew out longer than the sunset we were watching over the gardens.

"I want to roam!" she said. "Like you."

"You know, Tulsi, I couldn't always roam like this. I was married once."

She frowned at me through her cracked specs, studying me with a quizzical look, almost as if I'd just told her I'd once been a brunette and she was trying to imagine it. In the end, she pronounced: "You, married? I cannot picture this."

"But it's true—I was."

"Are you the one who ended the marriage?" "Yes."

She said, "I think it's most commendable that you ended your marriage. You seem splendidly happy now. But as for me—how did I get here? Why was I born an Indian girl? It's outrageous! Why did I come into this family? Why must I attend so many weddings?"

Then Tulsi ran around in a frustrated circle, shouting (quite loudly for Ashram standards): "I want to live in Hawaii!!!" Eat, Pray, Love