Throughout history, whenever the ratio of the height to the width of a rectangle has been equal to 1.61803398874989484820, or 1.618 in short, the effect has been pleasing. The number is called phi, after the Greek sculptor Phidias. It is also called the ‘Golden Ratio’ — and is the formula of beauty.

The greatest works of art are built on the ratio of phi. Many claim that if a rectangle is drawn around the face of Mona Lisa (which one wouldn’t under ordinary circumstances), the ratio of the height to the width of that rectangle will be the Golden Ratio.

The exterior dimensions of the Parthenon in Athens form a perfect Golden Rectangle. The pyramids’ dimensions too. Even Salvador Dali is said to have based the measurements of his painting Sacrament of the Last Supper on the Golden Ratio.

An American professor — who else would be up to the task? — applied the Golden Ratio to determine the origin of facial attractiveness of live human beings. It was found that the distance from the chin to the eyebrows on the attractive faces divided the face in a Golden Ratio, whatever that means.

Now there’s nothing to suggest that Leonardo Da Vinci consciously used the Golden Ratio in Mona Lisa’s composition. But when God made Hrithik Roshan, he certainly did.

Look at the man. He is composed entirely of Golden Ratios. If you divide his forehead by his chin, I am sure the result is 1.618. If you divide his chest by his hip, it is 1.618. If you divide his hip by his waist, it is 1.618. If you divide his upper thigh by his lower thigh, the result is 1.618. If you divide his nose by his nostril, the result is 1.618. If you divide his lower body by his upper body, the result is still 1.618. He is a paragon of male beauty, perfection itself, the golden hunk.

Why the hell then doesn’t he turn me on?

I, a “mature” woman, have thought long and hard about it and come to a disturbing conclusion. Bollywood’s biggest hunks are little boys. They don’t like women. They are only out to bond with other children.

Why else would Hrithik in Krrish be fixated on Bournvita? Every time he comes back panting to his granny from one of his innocent escapades — overtaking the horse, flying, scaring people sweetly — he drinks Bournvita. When the little boy who is always with him — his alter ego, of course — comes visiting, Hrithik holds forth on the life-affirming qualities of Bournvita, and asks the boy to, what else, have a drink of Bournvita. His dining room always displays a jar of Bournvita. The drink that a growing child needs is Bournvita.

Hrithik Roshan is Bournvita.

Now which woman in her right mind would prefer a health drink to a real man? But does Hrithik care?

It wouldn’t even matter if Priyanka Chopra wasn’t really there as the love interest in his life. But you can’t take away his love for Bournvita. Or the kids out of his film. Or the kids who are his fans outside his films. In Koi... Mil Gaya, he even acted as a kid.

It’s the same with John Abraham. He is so perfect that you feel that even the Golden Ratio in its abbreviated form is not enough to describe him — you need to go into all the decimals.

A children’s channel did a survey, which said that it is with kids that our John is most popular. He is now the brand ambassador of that channel.

The hunks, even in Bollywood, were not like this always. Remember Amitabh Bachchan in Salaam-e-Ishq and Rekha getting hit? The dangerous gleam in his eyes? Sanjay Dutt, Salman Khan or Akshay Kumar had their moments, too, though they are all ageing now.

But then the world had not gone cute. Now there are too many children buying too many soft toys, soft drinks, Superman dolls, Krrish masks. You can’t ignore the young consumers. They are more important than women.

A more disturbing thought is that now perhaps women like their hunks that way. Then they would fit in perfectly in the soft toy world. That makes you wonder about the index of development and the female psyche. Hrithik and John really have no choice.

So my fear is that the way things are going, hunks will become more and more like the dolls that they inspire. That is, they will be as featureless underneath their clothes as a Superman doll is.

It’s a terrible prospect for women (and some men, too). My only hope is Shiney Ahuja.