A Man called Ove - A Book Review

"Men are what they are because of what they do. Not what they say."

Introduction:
GENRE: Fiction
AUTHOR: Fredrik Backman
PAGES: 337
YEAR OF PUBLISH: 2012

A Man Called Ove was published in English in 2013 written by Swedish Columnist, blogger and writer Fredrik Bachman. The book became an instant bestseller which sold millions of copies worldwide. When the English version of the book was released, it went on the New York Times Bestsellers list and stayed there for 42 weeks! The character of Ove created by Fredik Bachman became widely loved and admired by all.

The above quote is just what Ove believes in. Well why wouldn't he? The world has become full of those incompetent idiots with their big phones, ignoring signs, fools who cannot drive a manual car as if its rocket science and IT consultants who cannot even reverse a small Chinese car with a trailer attached. Not that Ove liked chinese cars. For him, one can tell what kind of a man a person is by the sort of car he drives. Ove is a very particular man who likes to do things the right way and want others to do the same. He is a stickler for rules. "Rules are Rules afterall".

On first note Ove will seem like a cranky old man. It was when you dive deeper into the book and get to know him better that you couldn't help admiring Ove and his ways. He is a sort of man who will call an Idiot a idiot on their face, a man with zero political correctness and zero tolerance for anything or anyone who does not do things properly.

Plot:

The book begins by Ove trying to buy an Ipad. He asks the Sales assistant while shaking the white box and eyeing it suspiciously if this is one of those 'O-pads'. The assistant confirms that it is an 'I-pad'. Ove asks that it is a computer then. The sales assistant is nods and then shakes his head and tells Ove that some people call it a tablet and some a surfing device. But Ove just want a good computer, how hard is that to understand? Well after Ove uses some choice words for the Sales assistant and storms out, the book makes the reader to start forming opinions about Ove. But the person who forms an opinion about Ove is in for a surprise as he moves on to the upcoming chapters.

Ove is living alone after his wife passed away after a long illness. She was the only person whom he has ever loved. Ove's mother passed away when he was a boy and so he lived with his father. His father who worked for the railways was a man of principles. A man who stuck to his set code of ethics, a man who did things with his hands and Ove learned the same. To quote an excerpt from the book -

His father never raised his fists. Not to Ove or anyone else. Ove had classmates who came to school with black eyes or bruises from a belt buckle after a thrashing. But never Ove. "We don't fight in this family", his father used to state. "Not with each other or anyone else."

He was well liked down at the railway, quiet but kind. There were some who said he was "too kind."

Or to get an even better understanding -

That year, to stop him from rattling around the house on his own, he also started going with his father to work at the railway yard after school. It was filthy work and badly paid, but, as his father used to mutter, "It's an honest job and that's worth something."

Once Ove found a wallet with more than 6000 Kronor while cleaning a train coach. He worked for a man named Tom who was dishonest and not at all liked among his colleagues. They both were in the coach at that moment, when Tom saw it - he was ready to raise his fists on Ove. That's when Ove's father interjected in between and Tom backed down. Ove's father asked Ove that it is his decision for what to do with the wallet and Ove chooses to submit the wallet in the Lost property office and when the woman behind the counter who couldn't believe her eyes and says not many people have ever handed back the money, Ove's father replied, "Many people don't have no decency either". And that's how Ove went on - doing not what is likeable but what the honest and decent thing was to be done.

The book goes on with Ove trying to commit suicide not because he was depressed in a crying all the time sort of way but because he truly & honestly and in all rationality could not see the point of keeping on living without his wife in this world where people easily replace their cars with a different brand and do not know how to do things with their own two hands. Ove fails every time. He also has a new neighbor - a software consultant with a middle eastern pregnant wife called Parvenah and two kids - people who cannot reverse a car with a trailer. With time, Parvaneh is persistent to be make Ove their friend. And Ove being who he is, retorts and complains but always does what is the right thing to do. Their is also Jimmy, another of Ove's overweight geeky neighbor for whom Ove's wife cared for when his mother died.

And that is just a small sneak peek at who Ove is. Undoubtedly, Fredrik Backman has penned one of the very lovable character in literature. If you're going to read this book beware, this is going to touch your heart in one way or another and I think that is why it was hailed so much when it appeared in the market and keeps on selling even to this day. We all need a character like Ove who says what is right not what is convenient and who does the honorable thing, in this time when everything is becoming so 'Politically correct'.

The book is written in such a way that each line will keep you entertained and engrossed in it and is filled with so many wonderful lines that will just mesmerize you. For instance -

1. "Ove, only a swine thinks size and strength are the same thing. Remember that." And Ove never forgot it.

2. People also called him antisocial. Ove assumed this meant he wasn't overly keen on people. And in this instance he could totally agree with them, More often that not people were out of their minds.

3. We always think there’s enough time to do things with other people. Time to say things to them. And then something happens and then we stand there holding on to words like ‘if’.

One of my favorites -

4. Ove feels an instinctive skepticism towards all people taller than six feet; the blood can’t quite make it all the way up to the brain.

And for our readers who lean more towards the Romance genre -

5. He was a man of black and white. And she was color. All the color he had.

I became so attached to Backman’s character that there was so little I could do to stop reading. I was reading while I was having my food, I was reading in between my office tasks and I was reading when I was not sleeping.

It would not be wrong to say that no matter what kind of a person you are, if you're a reader then this book will manage to pull at some emotional cord in you. And what would become of human race if it was not for emotions!

A must read bestseller!

यह प्रेम नहीं

(इस कविता में जो लिखा है उसका अर्थ तो समझिए ही साथ ही साथ उसके उलट जो आज के युग में होता है वह भी सोचिये)
(कविता को लयबद्ध पद्य की शैली में लिखा है, यदि उस लहजे से पढ़ा जाए तो अलग आनंद मिलेगा 🙂)

काल का चक्र जो चलता है,
किसी के लिए नहीं ये रुकता है,
किसी को ऊंचाई पर पहुंचाता है,
किसी को पैरों तले कुचलता है।


दुनिया में गलत बहुत सी रीति हैं,
क्यों समझते नहीं जीने का नाम युद्ध है, न कि प्रीति है,
संघर्ष की अग्नि में ध्यानमग्न जो होता है
सही समझता है - जीने का अर्थ संघर्ष है, अंधा प्रेम एक कुरीति है।
अब ठहरो! क्या इसका अर्थ जानना चाहोगे?
क्या इस कथन की गहराई को नापना तुम चाहोगे?
यदि हां तो सुनो, सोचो और आत्मदर्शन भी करते जाओ।
जो अब तक समझते थे उसको किनारे करते जाओ।


प्रेम एक शाश्वत विषय है,
तपते जीवन में आश्रय है,
मगर प्रेम का नाम जब लेते हो,
जीवन में क्या क्या कहते और करते हो।
इसकी व्याख्या तो अब धुल सी गयी है,
इस युग के अंधड़ से ज्योत तो इसकी बुझ सी गयी है।


वासना में बंधकर जीना प्रेम नहीं,
किसी को मुश्किलों की मझधार में छोड़ना प्रेम नहीं,
क्या सड़कों पर शाम को भूखे बच्चों को तुमने देखा है?
हाथों में हाथ डाल हंसते नज़रअंदाज़ करते उन सड़कों पर टहलना प्रेम नहीं।
नहीं है प्रेम अपनी शामों को व्यर्थ करना मदिरा अंकित जज्बातों पर,
अरे प्रेम तो है दुश्मन को ले कर मर मिटना भारत की इस माटी पर।
और जिसने सिखाये तुमको इस जमाने के अर्थ हैं उसको ठुकरा दो,
उनके पढ़ाये हुए उन खोखले आदर्शों को तुम दफना दो।
प्रेम नहीं बल्कि अपनापन साधारण मनुष्यों की अभिलाषा है,
प्रेम तो केवल कुछ वफादार जीवों की ही भाषा है।
इस आधुनिक युग का "प्रेम" बस एक ढोंग एक तमाशा है,
प्रेम का सत्य तो बस माता-पिता के कर्मों की परिभाषा है।
प्रेम नहीं समृद्धि में अग्रसर हो मूल्यों को भुलाते जाओ,
और प्रेम नहीं माता-पिता के परिश्रम से कमाए धन को लुटाते जाओ।


प्रेम है जो इस धरती के लिए ही बस जीते हैं,
प्रेम है वो जिनके दिन बस दूसरों के लिए ही बीते हैं,
प्रेम है जो समाज के उद्धार के लिए विष का प्याला पीते हैं।
प्रेम तो आपके सरलतम कार्यों में भी दिखता है,
प्रेम नहीं फेसबुक-इंस्टाग्राम की दुकानों पे बिकता है,
संघर्ष कर स्वयं को मजबूत करना प्रेम है एक,
अपने जीवनसाथी के त्यागों को मानना भर भी प्रेम है एक,
परिजनों की डांट को चुपचाप सुनना भी प्रेम है एक,
हर सुबह अपने-अपने कार्यालयों की तरफ निकलते हो
वृद्धों के लिए अपनी गाड़ी को रोकना भी प्रेम है एक,
सड़कों पर निकलते हुए वो वीर जवानों से भरी गाड़ियां देखी हैं?
नज़र उठाकर कुछ पलों के लिए सलाम करना भी प्रेम है एक।


रोज़ाना के जीवन से हताश जब हो जाते हो,
रात को कराह लेकर जब तुम सो जाते हो,
ऐसी दिनचर्या जीने में भी बलिदान है एक,
आपके कर के पैसों से देश चलता है, यह भी प्रेम है एक।

A Fool still in Love

Every time and again you love me, you say,

I light up then, like a warm summer's day.

In the minutes that come,

I am like a kid,

so full of joy and having fun.

That fun is so much more than you think,

it is blissful, joyous, serene, cheery, sprightly, exuberant.

I pop a smile and I dream,

sitting alone of what the life with you could be.

I start weaving those memories of the future,

scenarios of love playing over and over.

Then I stop!

And suddenly the past comes back,

of what you had always done to me,

practically, stabbed me in the back.

I wonder! Will this time it will be different?

The next day comes and here we are again,

in the same place we always attain.

I lay fallen wretched, in despair,

while you find something else for you to entertain.

And then again, you put me to recycle, repair,

come when bored, to use me as a spare.

No more, I say!

And once again I leave,

with fresh wounds on my heart,

learning to forget, yearning to heal.

And you come again,

again the same cycle begins,

playing on my feelings,

so lovelorn in your dealings,

that me, a fool still in love, fall again.

Travelling down your memory lane

How do I begin to tell you

of how I feel about you?

I found you out of the blue,

when I was down, thought I was through.

I miss what we had,

it was just months ago,

and I will forever cherish that time spent,

precious, before we had to go.

I had no idea at that time,

that my heart will become so close to thine.

It still is, though I am alone, again,

travelling down your memory lane.

The life with my sister

 

Hey Dear Sister,

Warning: Not limited to just praises. LOL.

It does not seem so long ago that we were fighting and bickering over who gets the remote of the television so that we can watch our favourite programs when I visited you to get away from all the craziness of Engineering college only to land in yours. Which consisted of constant differences in our opinions. You with a flexible and fun loving view of leading life and me with a stoic and a rigid view filled with rules to be followed for every small thing. Or shall I say, me with a very introverted nature and you with an extrovert nature. It certainly was no picnic for me. Then there were disagreements, there were our fights, our wrestling for the T.V. remote and, though less frequent, asking for your pretty friends phone numbers (*smile). In other words, you were the complete opposite of me. I had been exasperated, resigned, infuriated, confused, bewildered and very annoyed at times.

And now, you are married. You have become a woman, a wife, a source of inspiration and a beloved partner of someone - his constant companion in everything in this tumultuous journey of life. And let me tell you it is still not easy for me, au contraire, it is now more difficult because now I do not remember the times that I have been angry at you, fought with you or secretly ate the portion of the chocolate that was supposed to be for you (*grin). No! Now all these things seems so petty that they do not matter to the least.

In fact, what appears to be real and what appeals now most to the soft and delicate part of my nature are the memories of you putting cool wraps on my head during high fever, or reminding me in almost a scolding way to take my medicine which I got from Red Cross Hospital,  or making maggi for yourself but still sharing with me a portion of it, or going out to eat at - 'Sagar Gere' or 'Dominos' or whatnot restaurants there were - with me in the evenings, or making macroni for me which you know is my favourite only when you make it, or patiently listening to me ranting about the evil deeds of my ex-girlfriend, etc. the list goes on and on. Everything matters now, every small little thing that appeared to be trivial at that time now holds a certain emotion with it. And that's how life goes on, happiness and good memories happen by the accumulation of small things in life, so never miss them. Also, in addition to that, the most important thing in any relationship, more than love itself, is Respect for each other, rest everything follows. This is a little piece of advice that I give you with all my love for in the beginning of this grand and awesome journey you two are going to embark upon together.

I do not know how many times we will be able to meet in the future, we both are going to be very busy from this point forth. So, I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you what all this meant to me, what you mean to me (I am getting a little teary-eyed here, silly old me). You are my little sister after all. I may now open the gate of your home when I visit Bhopal and not meet with the shrill  yet warm with concern greeting of yours that "You're here". You are beginning a new journey in your life, a journey you may find gratifying to an extent that it may translate into the "meaning of life". Congratulations!

Love you sister!

Love,
Anshu

P.S.: I will still disturb you sometimes with my poetries being published and anything new I write.

P.P.S.: Give my greetings to Abhimanyu and wish him my best.

Divine

Love is divine,

Or the divine is love.

As the only truth that exists,

As the ecstacy that persists.

Immortal, of the irremovable signs,

A story of past, yet divine.

Waiting

Upon that bench alone he sits,

along with him sits a few misfits.

Heartache and pain,

coupled with unbounded love infused in his every grain.

Twisting & turning,

they take him about,

onto a journey riddled with doubt.

He knows not where, which way to turn,

to rid himself of these incineration and burns.

Memories of love puts a salve on the burn,

yet another misfit arrives - feelings of yearn.

And so return again like fire after rain,

the same feelings of heartache and pain.

He waits for her to come back soon,

that same person before who left his home.

With whom he envisioned a lifetime together,

with whom he was closer than ever,

Yet he sits there - she does not arrive,

was she real or his imagination alive?

She who penetrated his innermost wall,

she whom he trusted like he never trusted anyone at all.

Still, he sits there, tranquil, abating,

journeying with those misfits, yearning and waiting.

I miss you then

Whenever newer events arise,
I miss you silently in disguise.
Disguise of an empty smile,
sometimes crooked, mindless all the while.

When I wake to the chirping sounds,
outside my window, all around.
Breaking away from your dreams
All I long then is to hear,
your soft whispers in my ear,
your gentle coaxing for me to rise
to stand up and face the day
with all that's best,
not needed to say.
I miss you then and all minutes to come.

As I slowly, in a daze,
discern tiny droplets touching my face,
it slowly dawns upon my mind
it's raining outside, with a pain.
I wish then to take a ride,
with you throughout, by my side.
We go to the hills perhaps,
a silent, overwhelming, beautiful space,
your sweet kiss and warm embrace.
I miss you, sitting in this crowded yet, a lonely space.

The lonely evenings spent alone,
without your concern, without your scold,
I loose myself in my closed room,
and go to the place where memories bloom.
I miss you then in every breath,
as I slowly drift between disguised smiles and gloom.

Embrace

I wrote this some time back. Though the situation is very different now, the feeling was worth writing about.

 

A warm summer's sweet delight,
closer, looking in her eyes,
sitting huddled in the sand,
beside the tides, earth's heaving sighs.

Passions high, entangled limbs,
kisses balmier than a rose's lips.
Sunset, dusk and moonlit nights,
all merry, all rejoice.

Heavenly abode, where else it is?
where lies mankind's most craving smiles?
Where but in love's most embracing arms!
Where but in those stolen glance!

Beside the Styx

Hey! Hello everyone. I wrote this piece a while back. Upon reading you may find it to be a blend of greek and christian mythology. It just sort of popped into my mind, and believe you me, I made the story as the poem progressed. Enjoy reading! :)

I saw it in her eyes again,
The same forgotten sighs in vain.
For she a goddess and I so low,
With a broken crown on an iron brow.

Love and being her man I beseeched,
From the calmly flowing styx,
And I found there a paler crowd,
With grin and cruel scorns commix.

I did pray singing a doleful song,
A melody with grief I tried,
To make her listen with a mourn,
With a heave and tear run in my eyes.

But she was up and in those glades,
At the side of a knight with a sword,
A sword tainted with the blood,
Of that unsaid love who lived unguard.

I found but a lowly croak,
Emanating from the ungraceful self,
Too filled with sadness upon that reef,
Too choked with madness and the grief.

Forgetting from which way I came,
I ventured to the black castle grand,
Made with flesh and the bones,
The underworld’s lord standing with open hands.

“O! How came you upon this dwelling?”
"And What made you venture forth?”
Gliding and with a smile he asked,
Watching this mortal frame unmasked.

“I am a jilted mortal as such,
Who fell in love with a goddess, shame,
For who am I to be of worth,
Of her love, this unworthy name”

“Cry not hear and don’t be ‘fraid” said he
“For as I come near to thee,
And tell you about your way to Elysium,
For you are true in your pursuit indeed”

“It’s a long way up and without a horror,
And you can go for you can,
For you did love and here it led,
And you followed what the lord hath said”

I bent my knee and folded my hands,
Devoted for come what may,
I know now what is so much near,
A thin veil between love and death till this day.

To Bloom

In the darkness, in the night,
A flower of feeble might.
Stands alone upon a twig,
Beneath the moon pearly bright.

Yearning for a few drops of rain,
To find a flower to stand beside,
And stand beside, together
Extinguishing both their pain.

In the drier days and lonesome nights,
when the flower was about to die,
A smaller shoot, feebler still,
Showed up upon the lonesome twig.

It sprouts up, beside the flower glum,
And begins to bud shortly then,
Intertwining under the scorching sun,
Extraordinarily 'cuter', and the music begun.

It bought the flower back to life,
A life, in all the withering seasons,
A life which was about to die,
And would have dried up and forgotten,
Forgotten in the times nigh'.

Both brought the other back from doom,
And henceforth expelled all the gloom,
As a new life came upon that tree
With the flowers's stupendous bloom.

Love signs - Cap & Virgo

The following abstract is taken directly from the famous book of Linda Goodman's Love Signs and is dedicated to My virgo.... sharing this while sitting in my office due to overwhelming feeling of how much I am missing her, she's on a trip right now.

So here goes......the bold parts I found to be really awesome......

 

VIRGO Woman CAPRICORN Man

"Oh dear! I am sure I sometimes think spinsters are to be envied." Her face beamed when she exclaimed this.

You remember about her pet wolf. Well, it very soon discovered that she had come to the island and it found her out, and they just ran into each other's arms.

As with everything else in astrology, there's a reason why Virgos are symbolized by the Virgin. Both sexes. If the truth be told, almost every Virgo would prefer to live alone forever. (Not necessarily as a literal virgin, of course, but unmar- ried.) The Virgo woman is seldom thrilled by the thought of trying to match her life style to the habits of another person (especially if the other person has messy habits). It's a terrible dilemma for her, actually, because she can fall in love as deeply and as liltingly as any other woman. And once she's fallen in love, she's tortured by conflicting feelings.

She's aware that she'd be much more comfortable in a relationship recog- nized and respected by both the law and society. Namely, legal marriage. Sec- ond, when she truly loves a man, she feels it's her duty to marry him, bear his children, darn his socks, grate his celery and carrots, keep his shirts from humi- liating him (and her) with ring-around-the-collar, help him with his income tax, all those necessary human burdens. Her lovely, clear eyes become cloudy, and her pure forehead wrinkles with worry over the situation. The more she ana- lyzes it, the more troubled she is. Fortunately, she's an Earth Sign, not an Air Sign like Libra. If a Libra lady had the Virgin's problem, she'd really go ba- nanas, trying to decide what to do. Virgo will keep her cool while she's analyzing all the details of her marital dilemma, and view the whole thing in a reasonably calm manner. But she may bite her nails a lot, and those worry wrinkles will re- veal her inner turmoil. Mostly, she'll keep it within, hash it out with herself, Narcissus-like, while she's still unsure.

The plus side of her conflict over whether or not to marry we just covered a paragraph or so ago - all those reasons why she feels she should give in and re- nounce her single status. The minus side is what marriage means - or what it will probably mean to her, as a Virgo. It will mean adjusting her life to the whims of another individual, adapting herself to being constantly on call, 24 hours a day, to cook, sew, make small talk, make love, have children, raise chil- dren, dust, sweep, clean ... then there's the laundry, the bills, the necessity for compromise concerning social activities and a hundred other areas where her preferences and those of her husband might clash. (Virgos hate clashes. Clash- ing makes them nervous.)

Despite her reputation for neatness, cleanliness and tidiness, not every Vir- go woman in the world is a born homemaker. In fact, very few of them are. (We'll discuss why a little later.) Consequently, the possibility of becoming a household drudge is high on the list of the reasons she'd rather not wed - and it's why lots of Virgo girls decide early in life that the institution of marriage is for the weak-minded. But then, there are always one's friends, relatives and neighbors to consider. What will they think of her decision to remain single? And what of her responsibility to the man she loves? How can he possibly man- age without her by his side at night and in the morning, in case he should need something, and she's all the way crosstown? If they don't legally marry, but just find a suitable apartment halfway between her job and his job, and live to- gether, wouldn't she be forced to do all those wifely things for him anyway (become a household drudge) even though they weren't actually man and wife? I can answer that for her, without spending a lot of time analyzing it. Yes, she would.

So the Virgin is left with the choice of either remaining a virgin - or be- coming his bride. These are the only two sensible solutions for a lady who feels such a sense of duty toward her lover that just seeing him every other day or so isn't enough to remove her nagging worry that he might need her in some way during those hours they're apart. If you haven't already gathered that most Vir- go women privately enjoy being needed (never mind how they complain about it) then consider yourself informed now that they do.

Should the man she loves happen to be a Capricorn, her dilemma is a waste of perfectly good hours which could have been profitably spent otherwise. If she's involved in a meaningful affair with a Goat, she can forget analyzing. Not always, but at least eight times out of ten, a Capricorn man who really loves a woman will either make her his proper and respectable wife - or leave her and grow bitter, nursing his loss for years, rather than consent, for any length of time, to a relationship that isn't legally, socially and religiously sanctioned, or is contrary to general custom - and especially one that could conceivably be frowned upon by his sainted family. The sexual revolution has changed many former traditions, patterns and concepts, but it has not yet made a dent in the basic Sun Sign per- sonality of the Goats. Nor is it likely to do so in the near future. It will take sever- al generations to convince Cappy that living in sin is not living in sin, even when he's reluctantly living in it. Besides, he nearly always will want a family, this man - and he's not about to bring up his sons and daughters illegitimately, de- prived of the great privilege of bearing his family name. That's unthinkable. It's sacrilegious. Even worse, it would be humiliating.

Another reason it's difficult for the Virgo woman to avoid marriage with her Goat is because the two of them are emotionally guided in their love relation- ship by the 5-9 Sun Sign Pattern, the most basically compatible vibration the planets see fit to bestow upon mortals. It isn't an absolute guarantee of happi- ness, naturally. Even 5-9er's have to work at it - and there are always those few 5-9 couples whose Luminaries are in adverse aspect between their birth charts. They'll still be unusually sympathetic to each other, but may find it hard to compromise their disagreements. Nevertheless, it's a beneficent influence to have as a foundation for love, and whether 5-9 lovers exchange a positive or neg- ative natal Sun-Moon aspect between them (in addition to their trined Suns) they are always more miserable when apart than most other men and women who separate for one cause or another.

So there's really not much use for her to indulge in a dance of doubt with this man. When the Virgin and the Goat first meet, they'll feel a karmic tug of long ago and far away, mixed with an almost instant empathy and comprehen- sion of one another's viewpoints. Their auras blend, lock into place harmonious- ly - and after that, untangling them is as difficult and delicate a task as untan- gling the fur balls of a Persian kitten. (Most Virgos own a cat or two. Virgos have a thing about cats. They either worship them or they can't stand to be in the same room - or even the same neighborhood - with anything feline. But they are never just neutral about pussycats.)

These two communicate beautifully, whether they're dancing (which they don't do often, especially not on a night before they both have to be at work or school early the next morning), just talking and relaxing, working on a project together ... or making love, which is a mutual endeavor they'll both enjoy tre- mendously. Neither of them finds it easy to be natural regarding sex. Secretly, each of them has always feared that he (or she) is inadequate in some way. But when the Virgo girl melts snugly into the secure arms of the Capricorn man she loves, she seems to lose all her coolness, detachment and inhibitions. Likewise for him, when this woman nestles trustingly against his shoulder in the dark, then moves uncertainly nearer.

Their need grows slowly, until it becomes deep and overwhelming. When two Earth Signs express their desire for each other physically, their feelings can be mighty powerful-in a word, earthquaking. The girls he used to know and maybe thought he loved - the men she used to know and wondered if she loved - would be amazed. Until they discovered an emotion they could trust to be wholly reciprocal, both the Virgo girl and the Capricorn man may have been more than once accused by others of being cold and romantically unresponsive. That's why their sexual union is frequently such a warmly intimate interlude within their other levels of togetherness. It may be the first time they have ever felt free to just be themselves, holding nothing back, loving with an abandon and a sense of human completeness they always wistfully longed to know and to share, but were never quite able to attain with anyone else - until they found each other and were able to experience an unexpected earthquake of passion.

Although Goats aren't excessively sensitive, the 5-9 cord that binds them will allow the Goat to treat the little baby torments and traumas of his Virgo woman with more genuine consideration than is normally his custom. He knows what it's like to endure agonies of guilt and frustration over exaggerated self im- ages of neglecting responsibility. Indeed, the moods of depression with which the kindly, earnest Goat is periodically afflicted, often stem from the same twinges of self-criticism and self-chastisement his Virgo lady suffers. He tends to discipline himself as severely as she does herself, holding his hurt inside, like her, restricting his emotions as she does, seldom allowing them to escape into the freedom of natural expression.

As for those scattered areas of tension between them, they could arise if she's overly critical of his family in any way or nags a bit too much. All Goats tend to balk and butt with their stubborn horns when they're nagged or pushed. Some quarrels could be caused by his refusal to spend enough time talking with her about the hundreds of things she reads and hears that stimulate her active, alert mind. She likes to always be either verbally analyzing something or phys- ically doing something. Idleness bores her and makes her restless, whereas his metabolism and day-to-day behaviour are keyed to a much more leisurely, re- laxed pace. Then too, there's his self-protective Saturnine selfishness - the Capricorn "me first" attitude he's seldom aware he possesses. Should he take undue advantage of her instinctive unselfish urge to serve, their relationship can become lopsided, and she could resent it inwardly for a long time before it spills over into a serious confrontation.

Then she might decide she was right in the first place about a single life being the only sensible and peaceful way to live, pack up her vitamins, her diction- ary, her pocket calculator, her toothbrush and other personal belongings - and leave him. The separation may not last long. In a month or so, after she's set- tled into her bachelor girl's apartment, luxuriating in being a loner again, she'll surprise herself with her own tears some night, in the stillness she thought would be peaceful, but turned out to contain instead only the awful ache of emptiness. She'll realize she misses snuggling in his arms . . . his soft, twinkling Goat's eyes and his shy humor... even his occasional gruffness, his grumpy moods and his unthinking selfish moments that hide such a gentle, devoted and loyal heart. As gentle, devoted and loyal as her own.

Is that the doorbell ringing? Yes, it is. Surprise! It's him. He has the perfect excuse to stop by and see how she's doing without him. She made a mistake and took his toothbrush when she left. He is returning hers, so they can trade. She stares at him for one shocked moment, then exclaims, "But I didn't notice, and I've already been using your toothbrush for nearly a month!" He'll tell her he didn't notice either right away, and he's been using hers. Then they'll run into each other's arms, because they'll know there's no use fighting it any longer. They love. How could they possibly have used each other's toothbrushes if they didn't? They couldn't. For Virgo and Capricorn, that's the ultimate intimacy, the final proof of destined Oneness. Otherwise, obviously, they would both have surely turned into stone statues as punishment for such an improper trespass against custom, so warned against in childhood as a no-no. Unexpectedly, the

two of them feel as free as birds! He drives her back home, so sweetly familiar, but still feeling free, instead of going inside, they race each other into the back yard. He takes off his stuffy tie, and tosses it over the outstretched arms of the nearest tree ... she removes her uptight Virgo sandals ... and they dance bare-foot in the moonlight, under the surprised stars, the grass tickling their toes deliriously, intoxicated by the heavy fragrance of honeysuckle vines. Finally, they fall down beneath the tree, laughing and crying at the same time ... and sud- denly, without warning, it's silent between them. The only sound is the chirping of crickets. They both know what the silence means. Sometimes, need won't wait. After all, it's their yard, it's surrounded by a high wall, tall spruce and hedges, and the neighbors are asleep.

It's about time they broke the chains of restriction, to learn that love will not be imprisoned by anyone's rules. From far away in the distance, Virgo's true ruling planet, Vulcan, thunders approval... while in the sky overhead, Saturn weeps with a strange and unaccustomed joy. After a time, a soft, steady rain be- gins to fall. They don't even notice. His very best tie will surely be ruined. But who cares? His Virgin will knit him a new one, now that she's back home, where she belongs.

That night, of course, there was an earthquake - though not the kind that can be measured on the Richter scale.

Wife

Finally completed......

I sit dazed in the sunlight,
And in the moonlight, ablaze,
I weep, quietly coursing the night.
Never had I found before,
This feeling of love so much,
Like a long lost boat, making, finally to the shore.

She was like a silvery dream,
In the mind when I closed my eyes,
Wherever I looked, in every gleam.
Oh! How she swept a glance of my face,
And kissed upon these mortal eyes,
With love and caring and exuding warmth,
Fair with lowered gaze in every case.
Her warm caresses, soft and tender,
Melted my stony heart,
And when I held her hand,
I felt we were two but one part.

Was it a dream? For I cannot find,
Her arms around my neck,
Laying next to me with caresses kind.
Should I call it a dream?
When all I can see,
Is her face in every face, and feel
Her presence in every breath.

When I opened my eyes or turned to see.
And I wish she knew,
I miss her dearly every second, right,
In every breath, every day,
of what we used to have,
In every smile, in every fight.

She is my love, my life,
My moon and stars, as they say,
My very being, my unwedded wife.

(This is when the guy gets the girl and they get married)

I was young then,
When I devoted my soul,
For "I will take thee", only her,
As my other half, as my forever goal.

Still is, it true, after years spent,
Waking up to her scent next to me,
In the bed, in the pillow,
In my breath, in the sunlight's glow.

Her morning kiss to awaken me,
From the slumber sweet where I rested,
Where I was with her with my closed eyes,
Sees her again blissfully, smiling love infested.

She bought with me in the run,
Two more lives beloved to me,
See a beautiful girl and a naughty lad,
Both with her eyes and her features and a little of me.

They run and scream and play,
In their grandparents laps they dance.
And she smiles and I wonder about,
If all this is a dream by any chance.

We got older now, we got weary,
Saw life together so much, a little bleary.
Retired now from my work and act in life,
She still is beside me and I am,
Still drunk of her, still overjoyed and cheery.

Older we got, few light left in our eyes,
We saw our lives pass by,
But foremost the moment when,
We took each other hands and,
Vowed in sickness and in health to never depart,
In this life or others to come,
She is mine and I am her's,
No matter how far we are apart.

We will be together for eternity to come,
as we were in the tribulations and fights,
and through squabbles and trifles,
Our love is like the sun's flight.

Life will bring us back how lost we may be,
For we are but each other's soulmate,
Bounded by love, bounded by fate.

And I am so withered now, aged',
That I cannot think what I leave behind,
But her hand still in mine,
I say unto life - "it has been most kind".

Now I'm leaving this earth,
With not the painful cry of strife,
But with my life flashing, and with a smile,
I'll meet her again - my beloved, my wife.

It's me

I laugh with you,

I can be funny,

I can be very charming,

When I want to be.

I talk little and I write a lot,

For you, words I constantly brew,

And People think I am very shrewd.

I crack jokes,

I make fun through,

I laugh with you. But

Cry when alone in room small,

I am the guy who feels it all.

I am jovial,

With you friends, I am great and cool,

But if come a time when you wonder and it grow,

Within, I'm the loneliest guy you'll ever know.

Beholden

Her eyes reflected the love of mine,

that tumultuous ocean in her gaze.

I went out of this embodied self,

and yearned to get out of that selfish maze.

I reap what I sowed of all my seeds deep,

to love or anguish comes to me, and I plead.

Ha! The angelic bells the farthest heaven rang,

in the moment's depth as she touched my hand.

Her hair in disarray, her eyes speaking its voice,

"Who art thou?" asks it in Shakespearen vice.

My whole body sways of that feeling of oldest fashion,

the mind lost, eyes watching,

the passionate dreams, all in succession.

It pleases me more, to look in her eyes,

to search the heart where that love resides.

Pleasures of those kinds, I yearn to possess,

to tell her with a kiss and my heart's warm caress.

She looks away, her contemplation dwells,

the sorrow in her eyes, her throat swelled.

Was I the man she must have sought?

Or the fate was righteous of what she has already got?

She sees the storm that my eyes protests,

the unspoken fervor, at my sealed lips behest.

Hence she be happy, augment her joy manifold,

for the image of her face and frame,

will my heart forever behold.

Homeward

The sky opened up, the clouds parted,


the first drops of drizzle it departed.


The leaves stood still, the lake calm, in mourn


had it still if it knew about,


the cloud’s tears, the upcoming storm.


The trees sigh in relief,


‘pittar-patter’ it speaks, its language so sweet.


Stems so joyous, the otherwise dusty leaves,


the saddening flora, so green!


The birds chirping, on that old oak,


the flowers blooming, so peaceful, serene.


It stops!


Wafting in the air, sweetness drifts,


so sweet, it enchants and entangles,


healing all wounds indeed.


In this blessed realm,


I thought of her, suddenly,


The old woman, that kindest soul, agree


Who smiles and showers,


her sweet kisses on me.


The rays of sunshine parts aside,


the greyer clouds where that loudest thunder resides.


I came out of that canopy, from under


Vigilant that tree, which stood tall,


sheltered, protected and hugged me.


I ran quickly, and it was no stride,


To my home where, that wisest angel,


my mother, waited for me, aside.


I care not, wish not,


afar, any other dreamland or a shrine,


for there is someone who, through time,


cared for me, cherished,


and loved me her entire lifetime.

Passion

The ambrosia of passion,

When it goes down your throat,

It turns all facades,

Into pleasurable hopes.

In that mist of pleasure,

When you twist and shine,

Yet you don’t reveal through

The love you’ve hidden behind.

I look through her,

Titillated to the core

Whether I’ll end up in her arms,

Or at the foot of her door.

On both accounts, I won’t give up still,

To love and spread bliss,

Will be my life and my thrill.

My hopes and my smile,

Might reveal it all

To kiss her hand, or to bend on my knee

If I have that gall?

To kiss her goodbye,

I hope I never do,

To wake up to that sunshine,

In that beautiful dawn I hope,

I’ll always end to.

But I know not what,

She has hidden inside,

A ‘yes’ or a ‘no’

I cannot decide.

I wish to see her smile,

Waking up in that morning glow,

And I hope that cloud of doubt,

Let’s the rays of my wishes through

Thoughts....

A lonely traveller on the silent sea,
Travels in hope to be free,
From the wretched woes of his mirthless life,
No affairs of wisdom or love ever,
Came across in face or disguise.

He sails aloft a merry boat,
Yet alone, in search of that place,
Where there is that love that chokes his throat.
In the moonlight, aghast,
He reached a land, on black sand it dwelled,
Where stood a damsel, a shrouded figure,
Closer looked the eye, beautiful as hell.
She casts a glance so tender and sublime,
That turned him besotted, all through time.
Her devilish charms worked magic throughout,
That he forgot about his strife,
Of what he was made, what he was about.
He cured himself of that terrible disease,
World calls it loneliness and solitude,
By just hearing her voice, he did it with ease.

By time again coursing, he was smitten to the core,
He forgot the mark, of that curse he wore.
Sand shifted within his feet,
Departing was the beach, the moon and so was she.
She went afar with a crooked smile,
Taking the land with all its glory,
With closed eyes, to the sky he asked
Was it truly love, or was it her guile?
He opens his eyes and find himself again,
In those lonely quarters, those same faces,
Same thoughts and the same pain.
His eyes glistens, heart skips a beat,
On the thought of her,
If her he could again see.
Were those moments a reality of his mind?
Or were those times a dream divine?

Thoughts...

A lonely traveller on the silent sea,


Travels in hope to be free,


From the wretched woes of his mirthless life,


No affairs of wisdom or love ever,


Came across in face or disguise.





He sails aloft a merry boat,


Yet alone, in search of that place,


Where there is that love that chokes his throat.


In the moonlight, aghast,


He reached a land, on black sand it dwelled,


Where stood a damsel, a shrouded figure,


Closer looked the eye, beautiful as hell.


She casts a glance so tender and sublime,


That turned him besotted, all through time.


Her devilish charms worked magic throughout,


That he forgot about his strife,


Of what he was made, what he was about.


He cured himself of that terrible disease,


World calls it loneliness and solitude,


By just hearing her voice, he did it with ease.





By time again coursing, he was smitten to the core,


He forgot the mark, of that curse he wore.


Sand shifted within his feet,


Departing was the beach, the moon and so was she.


She went afar with a crooked smile,


Taking the land with all its glory,


With closed eyes, to the sky he asked


Was it truly love, or was it her guile?


He opens his eyes and find himself again,


In those lonely quarters, those same faces,


Same thoughts and the same pain.


His eyes glistens, heart skips a beat,


On the thought of her,


If her he could again see.


Were those moments a reality of his mind?


Or were those times a dream divine?