Although nothing she says will surprise, the book gets some of its punch from Dé's remarkable eye for detail, especially in her own Mumbai, where contrasts rub up against each other just as they do everywhere else in this country.

It was fascinating to watch an episode of Koffee with Karan that featured Rakhi Sawant, the notorious ‘item girl', who gyrated her way to the top of the cabaret girls' clique, before she won Indian hearts via a reality show titled Bigg Boss.

Karan Johar's show stripped her of all her silicon-enhanced glamour and showed her the way she was — a plain-looking but immensely ballsy, lower-middle-class girl who'd decided to exploit her physical assets — and succeeded!

In her own words, ‘Jo dikhta hai, wo bikta hai' (‘It's what's on display that sells'). When she decided to brazen it out, critics fell over backwards criticizing Rakhi for being nothing better than a cheap sex-pot who shamelessly cashed in on her body. Considering Rakhi's modest background and her Maharashtrian roots, she was certainly hard to slot.

Then she hit the headlines because of an unscheduled kiss with a lout called Mika. And there was no stopping her. I watched Rakhi's transformation into a ‘pop idol' very closely, since it was a significant development in a country that demonstrates such mixed feelings towards non-conformists, especially when they are female.

In fact, asked to write the lead article for a very chi chi publication, on India's ‘50 Power Ladies', I picked Rakhi as the symbol of true power. Self-made, self-taught, raw and unaffected, gutsy and undisguisedly herself. She seemed far more ‘today' than some of the privileged ladies on the list, like Indra Nooyi.

It's when I was writing the piece that I asked myself whether women were demanding much more than men these days. More of everything — including money and sex. Women in earlier times were not expected to demand. Period.

A woman who ‘asked' was called a nag and worse. Women were supposed to live in a state of eternal gratitude. Thank you, thank you, thank you ... thank you for feeding and clothing me ... for putting up with me ... for not throwing me out ... for not replacing me ... for not rejecting me ... for letting me live. Oh Lord! Was there one hell of a lot of ‘thanking' to do! We thanked our fathers, brothers, bosses, sons, virtually every male who wasn't vile to us.

The only women who were in a better position to negotiate were those with money. Independent wealth. Heiresses. And even they weren't sure how to deal with their unique positions in a patriarchal society.

Except for the women in Kerala (where communities are largely matriarchal, plus educated), and a few tribal communities in the north-east, our roles and positions were strictly defined. It never occurred to us that we could actually ask for something — even basic dignity.

Which is why women like Rakhi or Mayawati make such interesting character studies. They don't ask. They snatch at what they believe is theirs. But Rakhi is unlike Mayawati, who frequently behaves tyranically [sic].

The latter's body language and personality signal the arrival of a ghastly new stereotype — the Honorary Male. By cloning the worst aspects of male conduct, women like Mayawati end up in a strange, grey zone, which is confusing to both men and women,. I feel like telling her to take a closer look at Ségoléne Royal (regardless of the outcome of the 2007 elections in France).

Here's a woman who is rewriting the rules, and doing so in style, without damaging her essential femininity (so cherished by the French!). The fact that she lost to Sarkozy is immaterial. The French claim to despise her these days, after months of gush. ‘She was politically naive ... foolish,' a Frenchman declared dismissively. Perhaps.

But it would still have been interesting to watch her swim through shark-infested waters — in that famous bikini! Mayawati's personal positioning is a far cry from this model of leadership. Mayawati is competing with the Big Boys. She's taking on adversaries, who are no better than hoodlums, by mimicking their behaviour.

As the leader of the Dalits, she controls a gigantic vote bank, and is likely to emerge as one of the most powerful politicians on the subcontinent. Whether we like it or not, whether we accept her or not, Mayawati is the face of India's future. It isn't an attractive face — but it's an unforgettable one. Mayawati for PM? Don't laugh. It's likely to happen sooner than we imagine.

There are many Mayawatis waiting in the wings. It is as if they've been waiting for centuries for their time to come. Now that the moment has arrived — what next? Is India ready to confront its Mayawati moment? Not just yet.

Mayawati scares the hell out of India. And not only because of her reputation for biting people's heads off. Mayawati is seriously threatening to a society that isn't comfortable with women in the first place. And I refuse to buy that bilge about India regarding its womenfolk as devis to be worshipped, etc. etc.

The sad truth is that for a woman to find acceptance in our mind-bogglingly complex society, she has to be invisible. If that's impossible, she has to be as close to being invisible as possible. She must be obedient, virtuous and quiet. If she has a voice, it must not be heard. If she has a brain, it must not be evident.

If she has eyes, she must shut them without seeing what she isn't supposed to see. If she has ears — plug them. A (virtually) deaf, dumb and, [sic] blind woman had a far better chance of survival back then, and I'm ashamed to admit this, even today.

Media may talk about the all-encompassing ‘A-word' (‘A' for Attitude), and write glowingly about how far it's taking contemporary women. I fear we are fooling ourselves. This is a part of our fantasy. We want to be Bridget Jones.

But in reality we are one of Jane Austen's miserable plain sisters, desperately waiting for Darcy. I often overhear our versions of Carrie Bradshaw (Sex and the City) speak longingly, achingly about their lives, as they sip Cosmos in smart lounge bars.

They're just not happening! I want to tell them not to waste their time. They look almost comical, clad in low-slung jeans that display sexy underwear, butt cleavage and saucy tattoos. Their feet, shod in summer sandals, move restlessly as they toss their ‘relaxed' hair, stare longingly at other women's boyfriends and discuss how their own lives suck!

Frustrated in the workplace, frustrated in their personal lives, frustrated at being frustrated, they crave for something elusive and out-of-their-grasp — independence within a secure relationship. It does not exist, I feel like shouting. It is still an either/or scenario. But I keep shut and think of my mother.

Extracted with permission from the publisher

SUPERSTAR INDIA
From Incredible to Unstoppable

Author: Shobhaa Dé
Publisher: Penguin
PAGES: xii + 456
Price: Rs 350