Yahoo!… the bold times were here. A new generation that was born around the days of independence was here, the bold and beautiful flower generation. As with everything else in life, love became colorful. Not as in Technicolor but more positive. Instances of people dying of broken hearts became rarer. There were occasional tragedies but these were taken care of by a sad weepy song and a few scenes of "mujhe bhook nahin hain… mujhe mere haal pe chod do." Usually the impasse got broken and the misunderstanding was cleared. Hearts started becoming stronger and gestures bolder. Barring a few exceptions like Sujatha and Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam, it was Kapoor-style emotions all the way. Jump upon and pounce on the love of your life. Smother her with so much music that any attempts to refuse are drowned. Let the melody sweep the happy couple like a tide of emotions and away we go.

A petite Saira Bano or a voluptuous Asha Parekh in pastel lipsticks were usually swept off their feet by a clowning, intense-eyed Shammi Kapoor or a lipsticked Rajendra Kumar. Occasionally a macho Sunil Dutt or a very handsome Shashi Kapoor would do it more serenely, but music and poetry were the forte of the day. Sophisticated Sadhana responded to the demure expressions of Manoj Kumar and Vyjanthimala could barely suppress her joy on being singled out for her beloved's attentions.

There were the immortal black and whites where a debonair Dev Anand would court a very classy Nutan in a gauze dress, under the bright moonlight, aided by SD Burman's music. Music played a key role in this courting. As in Mughal-E-Azam, the immortal love story with strong portrayals by Dilip Kumar and Madhubala (they were in love too).

Again, Archies was far behind in the science of expression. Love was a beautiful emotion. It was not to be suffered like a disease. It had to be out in the open. She had to know, he had to know, the parents had to know… the whole world had to know. Never mind if someone thinks I am crazy… I am surrounded by the storm of love, I can't help myself. The new era of EXPRESSIVITY had started. Love was on its way to becoming a marketable commodity. There was the roll of the drum and chiffon saris with exaggerated behinds would be swirling on the dance floor. No more unrequited love… the object of affections had no choice, and no obstruction was big enough. Very few heart-broken deaths were happening. The Heartless World and unyielding parents usually gave in by the end of the requisite 22 reels. All would be well that would end well… more often than not they rolled away into the sunset, the Prans and Prem Chopras in a heap on the mountaintop and benign parents waving them on their new journey… with accepting smiles. It was IN to be in love.