Anand Giridharadas in International Herald Tribune:
Mumbai: Arshi’s India is not your (or her) grandmother’s India.
She is 25 and saucy, a public-relations executive in New Delhi, a daughter of divorce who lives with a cocktail-mixing woman named Topsy. She and her circle exchange wet kisses with their boyfriends in the privacy of their cars, relish both loving and loveless sex, and smoke a cigarette every few minutes. They pride themselves on rolling joints with that perfect-sized marijuana nugget, “the size of the Nokia switch-off button.”
Two generations after a sexual revolution gusted through the West, a new generation of urban women in repressive societies like this one would appear to be riding that revolution’s second wind.
But appearances lie, and feminism, Indian-style, can be so accommodating, so eager to please and appease, that it is sometimes scarcely feminist at all.
Previously in AW: The girls’ guide to flirting and shopping