In this provocative and compelling book, bestselling author Shobhaa Dé asks you to ditch the rulebook and ‘abandon good sense’ when it comes to owning your sensuality. It doesn’t matter if you’re twenty or seventy, sensuality has no expiry date. Whether you’re nursing a heartbreak or rejection, dissatisfied with sex in marriage, or are anxious about your waning libido—Dé has got you covered. From thrilling first dates and the aesthetics of a perfect kiss, to the messy world of casual coupling, group sex, kinks, and sexual red flags, Dé strips away the taboos and lays it all bare with her trademark wit and candour. Whether it’s heartbreak, rejection, jealousy, or fidelity, she dives into the chaotic terrain of human desire and sexual complexities. She asks men to roll up their sleeves and put in more effort, be experimental and non-judgemental, and demands that women stop settling for boring dal-chawal sex when life can offer spicy, finger-licking chicken chilli fry. Part manifesto, part guide, The Sensual Self is a fearless exploration of sensuality, love, and desire across every age and stage of life. Bold and unfiltered, The Sensual Self shows how you can embrace your (im)perfect curves, take charge of your sensuality, reclaim your desires, and live, love, and lust, on your own terms.
Shobha Rajadhyaksha known as Shobhaa Dé is an Indian columnist and novelist. She graduated from St. Xavier's College, Mumbai with a degree in psychology. After making her name as a model, she began a career in journalism in 1970, during the course of which she founded and edited three magazines – Stardust, Society, and Celebrity. In the 1980s, she contributed to the Sunday magazine section of the Times of India. In her columns, she used to explore the socialite life in Bombay lifestyles of the celebrities. At present, she is a freelance writer and columnist for several newspapers and magazines. De is married to Dilip De, her second husband and they have six children from their first marriages. She lives in Cuffe Parade, Mumbai.
The Sensual Self by Shobhaa Dé is a bold collection of short stories that explores love, desire, loneliness, and emotional truth in modern urban lives. The writing is unapologetic and often uncomfortable, but deeply honest.
These stories focus on flawed relationships and inner conflicts, especially from a woman’s perspective. Not a cosy read, but a powerful one that makes you reflect long after you’re done.
Well, I haven't read much of Shobhaa De. This book I enjoyed reading. I am from village background and different life style as such, couldn't feel it as mine.
It’s funny how a book can make you blush, nod, laugh, and quietly sigh—all within a few pages. That’s what happened to me with Shobhaa Dé’s The Sensual Self: Explorations of Love, Sex & Romance. I didn’t expect to be both entertained and disarmed. I didn’t expect to find bits of my own unspoken emotions mirrored between her razor-sharp sentences. And yet, here I was, reading a book that dares to say what most only whisper about, with the swagger of someone who’s lived enough to know better—and still chooses curiosity over caution.
Shobhaa Dé has always been India’s literary provocateur, our unapologetic chronicler of modern desires and contradictions. But here, she does something more intimate. The Sensual Self isn’t just her being bold; it’s her being brutally honest. She doesn’t hand you a moral compass—she tosses it out the window. She asks you to “abandon good sense” and, for once, listen to your body, your heart, and that buried, long-silenced voice that says: I want.
The book feels like a tête-à-tête over a glass of wine with someone who’s seen the chaos of love, the ache of rejection, the boredom of routine sex, and the liberation of self-acceptance. Dé writes with a mix of fire and tenderness, guiding you through heartbreaks that hollow you out, marriages that stifle you, and desires that resurrect you. She takes the taboo—sex, libido, infidelity, ageing—and dusts it off with wit sharp enough to slice hypocrisy in half.
What I loved most was her ability to balance audacity with empathy. When she writes about breakups, she doesn’t sugarcoat it with pop psychology. “There’s nothing called closure,” she says—and you feel that truth in your bones. Her voice—wry, warm, wickedly observant—walks you through the messy aftermath of love, reminding you that grief, too, is sensual because it proves you once felt deeply.
Her prose is textured—equal parts velvet and sandpaper. She uses the language of food, rhythm, and movement to make her points. A boring marriage, she says, is like “dal-chawal sex” when you could be having “spicy chicken chilli fry.” It’s cheeky and unfiltered, yes, but it also reveals her deeper argument: sensuality isn’t about the act; it’s about aliveness. About reclaiming the right to feel, to want, to seek pleasure—without shame.
As I read, I found myself thinking about how easily society tells us to tone things down—our bodies, our words, our needs. Dé’s rebellion is simple yet seismic: she tells you to turn the volume up. To let your desires take space. Her world isn’t just about sex; it’s about self-worth dressed in silk and sweat. And that’s what makes The Sensual Self more than a book—it’s a manifesto for emotional freedom.
Of course, some parts feel deliberately provocative, almost daring you to flinch. But that’s the point. Dé doesn’t want your polite nod; she wants your discomfort to stir awareness. The only mild gripe I had was that a few sections verge on repetition—her fierce advocacy sometimes loops—but even then, her rhythm and anecdotes pull you right back in.
By the end, I wasn’t just thinking about sensuality; I was thinking about the many ways we numb ourselves. To pain. To pleasure. To presence. This book reminds you that being alive is a tactile experience—that love, heartbreak, and desire are all languages your skin knows how to speak.
So, if you’ve ever felt trapped between longing and judgment, or if you’ve quietly wondered whether your sensual self still exists beneath life’s layers of shoulds and shouldn’ts, this book will find you. It will shake you. Maybe even seduce you into remembering that pleasure isn’t a sin—it’s a birthright.
Pick up The Sensual Self not just to read, but to feel—because somewhere between Dé’s unfiltered truths and her unapologetic laughter, you might just find your own reflection, smirking back at you.
It’s surprising, isn’t it? Even in 2025, women still hesitate to voice their desires emotional, physical, or both. We’ve been conditioned to be quieter, softer, more “appropriate.” We speak around our needs, not of them. And while I usually avoid books that appear to focus heavily on sensuality, I picked this one up with curiosity.
The Sensual Self is divided into three sections, each encouraging women to embrace life as it comes, along with embracing their I'm(perfect) curves. It talks about taking ownership of one’s sensuality, acknowledging one’s desires without guilt, and learning to love and lust on one’s own terms.
Shobhaa Dé addresses a wide range of emotional and intimate experiences from heartbreak and rejection to dissatisfaction within marriage, or even the quiet anxiety that comes with a fading libido. She also steps into more complex territories like casual relationships, kinks, group intimacy, and sexual boundaries. Her approach is bold and unfiltered, and she doesn’t hesitate to dismantle taboos or bring uncomfortable truths into the open, all with her characteristic wit and confidence.
There are moments where the narrative felt a bit too direct to me bordering on provocative for the sake of it. Some sections might have not resonated with me. But throughout the book , the intention of the author remains clear, to encourage women to stop apologising for their desires and to reclaim their right to feel, want, and express without shame.
The Sensual Self is merely not about sensuality in the limited, physical sense. It is about reclaiming agency over our emotions, our bodies, our choices, and the way we voice our inner truths.
Shobhaa Dé writes like someone who has lived, observed, felt, stumbled, and risen again. She speaks of heartbreak, rejection, marriage, aging, loneliness, emotional fatigue, and the many negotiations we silently make inside relationships. She calls a spade and spade, she is direct , sometimes sharp, sometimes warm, but never timid.
Shobha Dé challenges the idea that sensuality has an age or a stage. Whether you’re twenty or seventy, she insists that desire and connection are not things that fade just because society expects them to. And she places equal responsibility on men to show up, communicate better, and move beyond complacency.
There are parts where the narrative drifts into familiar territory, a few pages feel repetitive or overly self-centered, almost like thinking aloud rather than guiding the reader. So if you prefer structured insight, this might feel a bit scattered at times. But perhaps that is also the point , desire is rarely linear, and neither is self-reflection.
The author idealizes that sensuality is also emotional honesty , the courage to acknowledge what we long for, without shame or apology. The authors voice sounds honest with relevant discussions around identity and emotional expression, challenging silence and shame
If you are looking for an instruction manual, this isn't the one , but it’s a book you read to open a conversation , with yourself.
Maybe it’s time we stop turning away from our own desires, and start listening to what they are trying to tell us.
The Sensual Self is Shobhaa De writing as herself, not fictionalizing experience for the purpose of a story or writing to provoke rather than dissect the role that sensuality is constructed and allowed in society. The Sensual Self is a series of essays that views sensuality as self-knowledge in that it allows a person to be in their body and mind without fear. Though De is penning her thoughts in a woman’s voice, this tome is not restricted to women. Her search encompasses the inequalities in the rules applied to both women and men. In fact, she reveals how desire is normalized for one and moralized for the other. Moreover, she also shows how men are trapped in their strict notions of masculinity, which require them to display power, distance, and dominance in exchange for a loss in terms of authentic emotions. De writes with particular insight on the topics of marriage and partnerships. Her view on such matters defies romanticism and instead tackles negotiation, boredom, lust, and compromise. The role of loyalty, aging, looking, and power could not be tackled by anyone else as directly or as honestly. These essays are not answers but questions, which sit and linger at times unpleasantly. This book is in, and of, a particular urban Indian experience, reflecting the time in which it was written. But its timeliness lies in its relevance to the regulation of bodies and the legitimation of desire. De’s voice in these pieces exudes confidence, sometimes aggressively so, but always observationally, not programmatically. The Sensual Self is not about convincing or comforting. Its power resides in the insistence that sensuality is not about indulgence, enjoyment, or defiance, it is about recognition. Recognition of self, of contradiction, of the costs of denial. .
The Sensual Self holds a special place for me as it is the first book by Shobhaa De that I own, though I have read her works earlier. Winning this book through a poetry-writing contest makes the experience even more meaningful and memorable.
True to her bold and unapologetic voice, Shobhaa De approaches themes of sex, love, marriage, and relationships with remarkable openness. The book revolves around its core idea—the sensual self—and examines how individuals perceive, suppress, explore, or celebrate their sensuality across different phases of life. De skillfully contrasts the perspectives of the new generation with those of older generations, highlighting changing mindsets while also exposing the persistence of societal conditioning.
One of the book’s strengths lies in its relatability. Drawing examples from web series, OTT platforms, real-life situations, and even classical references, the author bridges contemporary culture with timeless emotional truths. The narratives resonate deeply, making the reader reflect on love, desire, guilt, and emotional intimacy.
The book also delves into how men and women differently relate to their bodies and desires, shaped by societal expectations, moral judgments, imagination, and the overwhelming influence of cinema and social media. What stands out is the author’s honesty—nothing feels sugar-coated or hidden. Instead, De presents these realities candidly, encouraging readers to confront their own beliefs and biases.
Overall, The Sensual Self is a thought-provoking and fearless exploration of human intimacy and emotional truth. It celebrates love in its many forms and invites readers to acknowledge sensuality as an integral part of self-awareness rather than something to be silenced or shamed.
"The Sensual Self" by Shobhaa Dé is a brave and honest exploration of love, sex, and romance. What struck me the most is how unapologetic the writing is- there’s no sugar-coating, no pretending. Author talks about desire, intimacy, and connection with a raw honesty that makes you pause, reflect, and understand . You might not experience anything but it helps to understand alot for further.
The book isn’t just about sensuality, it’s about freedom~ the freedom to feel, to express, to love without guilt or judgment. It reminds us that passion isn’t tied to age, appearance, or social expectations. Every chapter encourages you to accept your desires, your body, and your emotions as natural and beautiful. I love the way she explains with explain day to day around , she use songs, dance moves I like the way she explained everything.
Some sections are daring, others thoughtful, but all of them leave you feeling empowered. Reading this felt like someone who understands that life, love, and desire are meant to be embraced fully. It’s a celebration of being human, in all our messy, beautiful, sensual glory. Overall this was a great experience for me to look into such topics more broadly. Loved her writing to open and raw.
Shobhaa Dé’s The Sensual Self is part manifesto, part mirror—an unapologetic exploration of womanhood, sensuality, and desire in all its messy, glorious forms. Dé writes as if she’s speaking directly to the reader over coffee (or wine), nudging us to drop pretence and reclaim a relationship with our bodies and pleasures without shame. The book’s biggest strength lies in its tone—bold, witty, and free of moral hand-holding. It’s a refreshing counterpoint to the usual sanitized conversations around female sexuality.
That said, some sections feel uneven; Dé’s conversational style sometimes meanders, and a few arguments circle back to familiar territory. But perhaps that’s the point—the reclamation of sensuality isn’t a straight road; it’s repetitive, layered, and deeply personal.
What I loved most is that Dé doesn’t write about women—she writes to them. She dismantles the myth that sensuality fades with age, insisting instead that it evolves. Whether you’re nodding, squirming, or arguing in the margins, this book provokes thought. The Sensual Self isn’t a how-to guide—it’s a dare to live, love, and desire on your own terms.
This book was my debut into reading sensuality in its most raw form and I admit I had wild notions about what is going to be written. However, I discovered that the book addresses the unspoken words, the silences, the mind-borne ramblings and perhaps every thought that is involved in this game called Love. Ms. Dé takes the reader on a journey to discovering the best versions of love, all through a non judgemental lens and with complete honesty. The point that struck me as most essential, amidst the plethora of advice, was the emphasis on communication and effort. Love, like all things, doesn't simply work itself and it takes two to perform that sensual tango. I also liked the message of making Love seem grand, even in its most simple gestures. The Sensual Self is a book that has something for everybody, whether one is seeking Love, or has been hurt by it, or is fulfilled by it or is sceptical about it or straight up dismisses the notion as fiction. Of course, it's a book that has to be approached with an open mind, but its honesty speaks volumes. An interesting read and it definitely opened my mind's eye to sensuality.
Shobhaa De’s The Sensual Self is one of those books that makes you pause and think about how you relate to your own body, your desires, and even your idea of love. It’s not a typical self-help book or a guide on relationships. Instead, it feels like a long, honest conversation with someone who has lived fully, loved deeply, and isn’t afraid to talk about things most people shy away from. The book celebrates sensuality in all its forms, not just sex, but also the everyday pleasures of life: the smell of rain, the touch of fabric, the sound of music, the warmth of someone’s hand. De reminds us that sensuality doesn’t fade with age and that it’s something to be embraced, not hidden or judged. What I liked most, is her tone, bold, witty, and real. She talks about ageing, heartbreak, attraction, and self-image with refreshing honesty. Some parts are laugh-out-loud funny, others are deeply reflective. Very bold, intimate, and inspiring read about love, ageing, and embracing every side of yourself.
"The Sensual Self" by Shobhaa Dé is an introspective exploration of love, sex, and romance, reflecting on a variety of human experiences. The book combines evocative writing with cultural and personal insights to address topics often deemed taboo in Indian society. Its structure covers themes from the language of love to modern relationships, providing a candid treatment of sensuality. While the eloquent reflections on evolving societal norms, body image, and intimacy are compelling, the narrative sometimes leans on anecdotal evidence and traditional romantic ideals that may not resonate with all readers, particularly younger or progressive ones. The focus on heterosexual norms may also limit the discussion. Despite this, Dé's literary prowess enriches the discourse, urging readers to embrace their sensuality throughout life while critiquing societal pressures that hinder authentic connections. Overall, the book is a valuable addition to contemporary literature on intimate relationships."
Shobhaa Dé’s latest book feels like a rehash of themes she has explored many times before, only this time with even less impact. What could have been a sharp, provocative commentary instead reads like a scattered collection of thoughts that never quite form a meaningful point.
Much of the book comes across as the voice of women with a lot of time and money playing at being a feminist—all posture, no real depth. The observations feel dated, the tone swings between preachy and self-indulgent, and the supposed empowerment narrative rarely rises above surface-level performance.
Characters feel like sketches, issues are handled with magazine-column casualness, and even Dé’s trademark sass feels recycled. Halfway through, it begins to feel like filler—long on attitude, short on insight.
Overall, a surprisingly weak effort from a writer capable of sharper, more relevant work. Definitely skippable.