Those were the days of old, sort of some romantic period. Keats was the hot favourite. His letters to Fanny Brawne were in secreat circulation.Love was not so commercialised like today, 14th Feb, Valentines Day. OK, I switch to love.
What is love? The definitions goes, darshane, sparshane, vapi smarane. etc..It means if ones heart melts in watching, touching, rememberng andtalking to someone special, it is said to be love. Those days there were the vasanthotsavams, the sping festivals to celebrate love. All that is described in the definitions and more happened real in the festivals, which later became drunk and obscene. There were regional variations too. In Kerala, we had the thiruvathira, the celebrated ardra star with the full moon of winter, so cool, so humid that one craved for a kiss. Vilasini the male novelist of great fame had in thousands of pages described it from the angle of a bachelor for life. It was a kind of love developed in Keraladuring those half-remembered days without current and light. Marriageable girls danced with elders and all eligible men sat watching and all. Then it all underwent changes, mostly like in MT's novels. A few had even gone over to Mukundan-Kakkanadan style. But alas! I grieve and shed a bucket of tears that it all got gone with the present, the market celebration of pre-coital love, which melts hearts at sights, touches and more than that. Only that is plasic heart. Made for money.
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