In the landscape of modern Indian fiction, a growing and restless space has emerged for the “unlikable” woman. Anisha Lalvani’s debut novel, Girls Who Stray, leans unapologetically into this void, offering a portrait of femininity that is less about empowerment and more about the messy, often self-destructive reality of navigating a hyper-modern urban landscape.
Set against the neon-soaked yet hollow backdrops of Delhi and Noida, the novel presents a version of womanhood that refuses to be inspirational. Instead, it chooses honesty—raw, uncomfortable, and deeply unsettling.
The Protagonist as a Mirror of Modern Discontent
At the center of the narrative is A, a twenty-three-year-old unnamed protagonist who returns from the UK with a degree she doesn’t use and a sense of belonging she cannot find. By keeping her nameless, Lalvani transforms her into a vessel for the collective anxieties of a generation.
A is not a heroine; she is a drifter. She is described as “unhinged,” “anxious,” and “snooty”—traits that traditionally disqualify female characters from sympathy. Lalvani, however, insists on representing women as fully human: flawed, contradictory, and undeserving of narrative punishment simply for being imperfect.
The novel dismantles the tired “girl boss” archetype. Instead of watching a woman shatter glass ceilings, we watch one slip through the cracks. A’s choices—entering an affair with a property developer or drifting into sex work—are not framed as bold feminist rebellion. They are desperate, often misguided attempts to claim agency in a world that offers women very few genuine choices.
Deconstructing the “Straying” Woman
The title itself is a sharp, ironic nod to patriarchal vocabulary. To “stray” implies the existence of a moral path from which one deviates. Lalvani dismantles this assumption by revealing that, for women in contemporary India, the so-called “right path” is often just another form of confinement.
The Myth of Safety
The novel foregrounds the learned vigilance women practice daily. Whether A is in an upscale café or a deserted alley, the threat of violence, echoed through the shadows of real-world tragedies, remains a constant and low-grade hum.
The Burden of Performance
Women in Girls Who Stray are crushed by the expectation to be everything at once: ambitious yet obedient, modern yet traditional. When A fails to perform these roles, she is not merely accused of moral failure—she is punished for deviating from a rigid social script.
The Illusion of Freedom
Lalvani exposes the façade of urban freedom. Financial independence, parties, and consumption cannot conceal economic precarity or the psychological toll of living in a society where a woman’s reputation is still treated as her most valuable currency.
A Feminine Landscape of Alienation
The women in Girls Who Stray are inseparable from their environment. The half-finished construction sites of Noida mirror their lives—precarious, incomplete, and eerily desolate. The novel captures a uniquely modern isolation: women who are physically mobile but emotionally and socially trapped.
Lalvani’s depiction of A’s relationships with men is marked by a raw, almost clinical detachment. Her involvement with a toxic lover unfolds through unsettling cognitive dissonance. A is not a passive victim; she is an active, if confused, participant in her own unraveling.
This narrative choice is risky. It denies readers the comfort of a conventionally “strong female lead.” Instead, it offers something far more unsettling—a real one. A woman who makes terrible decisions, contradicts herself, and often becomes her own worst enemy.
Final Thoughts
Girls Who Stray is a reclamation of the right to be lost. By centering women’s alienation and urban dread, Anisha Lalvani forces readers to confront the underbelly of the modern Indian dream.
This is neither a cautionary tale nor a manifesto for rebellion. It is a psychological autopsy of what happens when the promises of modernity collapse under the lived reality of being a woman in a world that remains fundamentally rigged against her.
