I

t was 1976 and there was not much to watch on the black-and-white television set in our small modest living room. I wanted to use our black telephone, but the other party who shared our number was using the line.

When the line was finally free, the phone would ring, but no one spoke. Blank calls were rampant those days, especially when Daddy picked up the calls. I would term them '€œhidden love'€ through blank calls.

Dressed in my tight-fitting blouse, elephant pants and black-framed eyeglasses, I decided to just settle myself at the window, which had a long bench on it.

Across the street I could see my male friend, who I knew had a crush on me because of his numerous letters sent through our driver. He stood there staring at me.

Looking at his love-struck facial expression my heart skipped a beat because I didn'€™t know how to relate my opposite feelings. We finally had a talk over the black telephone and I indirectly told him I was too young.

Four years later, another suitor would send letters, which I never replied to because he wasn'€™t my type. One day he had the courage to come to my home to ask me why I never answered his letters. Face to face, I lied and told him I was too young to get involved, but from my expressions he could make out that I wasn'€™t in love with him.

Back then, one could feel and see the multiple emotions of love. You got to see people'€™s faces and reactions '€” no gadget in between.

There wasn'€™t much freedom where I came from, but that audacity, that passionate heartbeat and those silent intimate words the eyes reveal were good reasons to fall in love, mainly because one witnessed it through sight and not via a gadget.

The human touch was essential in our day. That one rose stem purchased from the street and given on Valentine'€™s Day was acceptable in lieu of an '€œI love you'€.

Even the spellbinding power of handwritten letters was a reason to fall in love because in many ways it conveyed a massive touch of passion. Love was simple.

But much has changed in the 21st century. Smartphones have become the contrivances that carry our generation'€™s love letters. The one rose has been replaced with emoticons and pass-on messages, many of which have been often misunderstood.

A friend'€™s daughter was receiving romantic pass-on messages from a young lad who was actually sending them to her just for the heck of it. The young girl fell in love with him because of the pass-on messages only to find out they were sent out of friendship and not romance. She was heartbroken.

Our verbal communication of love has changed and deteriorated. The young people of today use emoticons with heart eyes and red hearts to acknowledge their present emotions.

Many post the love emoticons, but how many of them actually mean it? One can hate a friend but still post those love emoticons just to cover their feelings.

Are three hearts enough to say how much we worship and adore someone? Today'€™s generation is using emoticons as a scale to measure a passionate adoration for someone, in place of that human touch, the holding of hands, or the sight of '€œlove-drugged'€ eyes. Everyone is so glued to the gadget.

Last Valentine'€™s, my husband and I went for a candlelit dinner. I took a minute to observe the other couples in the restaurant. It was suppose to be a celebration of love, but there was hardly a conversation between them because their smartphones mattered more.

Many young men these days may prefer to remain single because they find it expensive to have a girlfriend. How much does it cost for a date these days? They would rather play it safe in the meantime by starting their courtship through emoticons.

The 1970s and 1980s may be passé for today'€™s generation, but we enjoyed falling in love thanks to that human touch, face to face with hearts and hands entwined.

The new generation might not comprehend that simplicity of love we experienced, but they sure miss out on what we had because a toneless, heartless, faceless, lifeless, emotionless gizmo is taking the place of a heartwarming, titillating, human touch.

'€” Aruna Harjani