The dilemma of the modern-day book heroine

Whatever happened to the virgin with a 16-inch waist who spent her time kissing orphans and nursing sick puppies and thought she’d be luckiest person in the world if she could only get a man’s initials to add to her name?

Somewhere along the way, she discovered food, grew to an acceptable 28 inches in the tummy area, got herself a job, allowed herself to succeed at it, ditched the orphans and bought herself a designer wardrobe. So, like the Sula wine swigging Ayesha in Advaita Kala’s Almost Single, or the one-liner a-minute Jinni in Anuja Chauhan’s Battle for Bittora, or Nirupama Subramaniam’s Damayanthi in Keep the Change, today’s heroine has a smart mouth, a bank balance of her own, and needs a man like…exactly the way her predecessor needed one.

The men in romantic fiction are still rich, hot and acceptably bad-tempered and brooding. But the women out to ensnare them are no-longer vacuous enough to realise that brooding and bad-tempered usually translates to a moody and hard-to-please husband, and rich could translate to long days alone while he travels to meet the Sultan of Arabia, or whatever it is he does to afford his own private jet and dates in Paris.

Suddenly, the stakes are higher than ever for this one prize, because although she has reinvented herself, this new age woman, she is still threatened by younger-slimmer-sleeker. She is still not the hottest girl in the room, because she doesn’t have the courage to be hated by other girls. Because of course she will be if she looks like she just stepped off the Vogue centerspread. But she is the smartest, and of course she has the biggest heart.

Why don’t women want to read about the woman who is just mean – like we all can be on a bad day and some good ones? Why can’t we see ourselves in the shoes of a 22-year-old that can have any guy she wants? Why the pressure to have a vulnerable side, to have a likeable side?

Many of Jane Austen’s heroines married for the sake of prudence. Because they believed it was essential to be married and bear children rather than live the life of an old maid. Not the main heroines. The main heroines, of course, married the impossibly rich, impossibly good, much older men who would wrap them in cotton-wool, chastely kiss their foreheads and put them to sleep in a princess bed. But Austen was smart enough to acknowledge the grey characters. Emma the meddler, Elizabeth Bennet the sanctimonious - they had permission to be not very likeable and not always very beautiful.

So why does new-age-Nalini have to be so normal and so infuriatingly likeable? Doesn’t she have a bad day? Doesn’t she kick a dog here and there? Or ignore the office patsy at an office do? Why is she the one being thoughtful and kind and cutely naughty? And why isn’t she OK with the guy who doesn’t really have a career. Or even a job for matter? Won’t she give herself a chance at the hot mechanic - illicit but delicious. Wicked and edgy is great for a photo-shoot, but is she not allowed to find true love?

As tiresome as it is to maintain the image of the size-zero, yet dessert-scarfing girl who is also a rocket scientist, it’s tiresome to be the girl next door. Because she’s sick of listening to the boy next door go on about his MBA exam and his hot girlfriend who doesn’t want dates at McDonald’s any more. The girl next door now wears ‘boyfriend jeans’ not ‘baggy denims’ and she dreams of Steve Madden as much she dreams of going to Harvard. Plus, she’s on a diet, 365 days a year. For her, and therefore our modern-day heroines, and finally us, the lines are blurring. There are fewer either-ors, there are ‘boths.’ There are no more self-effacing tomboys who conceal killer bodies, but women who are learning to celebrate themselves inside and out. Isn’t it time the heroes began to evolve too? Isn’t it time they began to have shades too? Surely the new-age-Nalini deserves more than a Cookie-Cutter-Ken? Or is she a cop-out? Is she merely a cutout to pacify blossoming womanhood, when underneath, she’s just a version of the Barbara Bradford Taylor collapsing Calla-Lilly?

Should we be happy with the formula we’ve enjoyed all these years- Man: big and strong, Woman: delicate and feminine? Or are we really willing to go the distance and allow the men we vie for to change?

Finally the race is for the same prize - to live for a few hours in a pink, scented bubble of love, laughter and some, eroticism. Until the next pretty bubble floats along to sing us pretty songs of love and romance. And honestly, these are stories. Stories that could be true, that could be unbelievable. Their only job is to take us away for those few moments and lose us in a captivating world. And do stories have responsibilities? Or are they like children? Carefree, charming beings to be enjoyed and loved.

Perhaps the new age of the romance novel is around the corner. And how far they will stray from the avatar we know remains to be answered. I, however, would be pleased to see more kinds of men to choose from. Because after all, a new-age-Nalini, needs a Let’s-mix-things-up-Lohit!

Itisha Peerbhoy is a former advertising professional and gossip addict. She is currently in gossip rehab and has authored her first book, 'Half Love Half Arranged' by Penguin Publishers.