A Few Good Men…

Who is a good man? I have always wondered at that question. What makes a man good? Unfortunately, when it comes to the definition of a good man many are apt to base their conclusions on external traits like demeanor, composure, education, connection, wealth, even appearance. But does that make a good man?

Recently I was forced to think deeply about the term “a good man”. I have had to learn the hard way that the term “good” is relative, hence very questionable.

Especially since good without character, is empty. Unfortunately, the term character is strongly associated with perfectionism and worse still achievements. So in other words, good doesn’t necessarily mean character qualities. I have been blessed in my youth to have always associated with men of certain characteristics and for a while, I was apt to think all men were that way.  The truth is, there are only a few good men.

A few good men

The silence of Lambs and a few good men…

In fact, the term good is fluid and never constant, because, for every good man, there is a better man and then the best man. The only constant thing about a good man is change. And by this I mean, awareness and commitment to growth beyond being good to becoming better, and finally being the best. And when he is done, he must turn to another aspect of his good and make it into a better. This is the quality I have found in the few good men I know. It seemed the key to being good, is constantly becoming. And to become we must be “aware and committed” to growth.

Commitment to self-improvement is hard. Not every man can do it. It takes a proper audit of character and honest appraisal of self. Very few people are capable of facing themselves. It’s easier to blame the next person, point out the flaws in others while highlighting personal positive traits. I have learnt that the most insecure are the quickest to put themselves forward as secured by doing this.

But the truth is, we all have insecurities. But the way we choose to deal with these insecurities and the amount of responsibility we assume for them is what makes us unequal to others.

There are a few good men, we just don’t recognize them. And while we have them,  we don’t appreciate them enough. If there’s one thing Sagittarius taught me it was his insatiable need to conquer himself. That trait as animalistic as it appeared ( I was constantly alarmed). I didn’t value it till I met a blind Scorpio and it occurred to me that maybe, men are not exactly equal.

We need men. We need them strong and capable. We need them good, not without flaws but capable of honest commitment to the daily steps of being a better version of themselves.

There are a few good men and they are not the perfect. I have known them, some I appreciated, others I didn’t.

But because of those few, I know there are a few good men and  If you look closely beyond the noise, you will hear them silently…. They never come in the packages we expect, it’s no wonder we miss them!



We too must learn…


Flames fanning

Pans dark with age.

Burning – triggered coal to crimson

Golden tar browned by ancient sun

Bronze tarmacles

Flames of sword

Star- treks of warrior

Through our times

We cry, we laugh

We worked, we talkeddownload
Our flames fanning

Our heart gasping

We search with eyes

Our minds as drunk

Heavy with age

And light as gray

These flames that fanned

The light of our fame, we too must learn the rhythm of fate!

Once Upon a Saggatarius…

What is it sagittariusabout his reckless speed that spurs my feet.
is it his callous fist, firm but tender?

I  will forever wonder upon
that one that came in a storm
with cupid’s bow threatening to quail all in his path.

Yet he held my breath.

for a while, it seemed…
The echoes, oh the tempest

And whirls of outburst
Of infernos sacred flames,
threatening to engulf all in its path…

Till then came the storm, to reveal
proud  Sagittarius upon his hind,
begging the nymph for a drink by the streams –

the stream of life!

Catch me if you ever can
He implored arrogantly at  Aries’ silent stance

Coyly she would stare demure,
covered in innocence
for he is yet to discover
how true of a match she truly was.

They would race down the hills and prance around in 4 moonlights
each recently holding on to the other’s heels
till spent he laid forever conquered in the flame

His face in deep dismay
for suddenly he would realize
how he had never expected to be burnt by a nymph-of-a-ram


Because We Were Born to Dance…

Africa, Girl stories

One of my favorite early childhood memory was my dad trying out new music collections. And when he found a favorite he will nod his head in pleasure, flick his cigarette and do a dance. I always watched attentively. He will point out the highs and lows of each instrument and ask which piece I loved and why. We always agreed on the same selections and when we didn’t, compared favorites as we danced. My mom never joined us in this exercise. In fact, she always argued that it was a waste of time and effort. She said my dad was plain right crazy to assume that we understood his musical madness. If only she knew. She pointed out that his dance was rhythmless. She was right about the dance though. My dad had only one dance-step irrespective of the genre of music. And I was highly impressionable, I learned everything, including the dance. Continue reading

Africa, Girl stories

Reality Check…

Suddenly  I am awake. It’s 4:30 am and I still have about 2 hrs of sleep to go. But I am awake. I tossed, turned counted some sheep. But common sense told me it was better to get a cup of tea instead. I reluctantly got off the bed. As I fumbled for the light switch, my eyes caught a blinking light. It was my voice mail. I clicked it and my Dad’s voice serenades my room. I checked the time of the call, it is 2 am. Seriously, Dad, I muttered. My parents were in a different time zone. About 6 hrs ahead but they always seem to call when they feel like.

Continue reading