Read Online A Time to Dance by Padma Venkatraman - Free Book Online

toe-rings tap impatiently on the floor.
    Thai thai. Thai thai.
    The sound is a snatch of music, a dance rhythm,
    carrying me back in time.
    I see a little girl on her father’s shoulders,
    yearning to touch the feet of divine dancers
    carved into temple walls.
    I see her on a stepladder placing her hand on her chest,
    feeling Shiva’s dancing feet
    in the beat of her heart.
    â€œWhen I was little I felt my heart was beating
    to the sound
    of God’s dancing feet.
    Everywhere, in everything,
    I could hear music to dance to.
    When I grew up that music grew fainter
    and I started to love applause.
    I want someone who can help me feel dance
    the way I used to.
    I miss feeling dance inside me.
    I miss hearing music in everything.”
    Akka gives me a sharp nod.
    Encouraged, I continue. “My grandma said she saw
you dancing long ago.
    That you treated dance as a sacred art,
    an offering of devotion to God.
    And I think I felt that way a little when I was young.
    I want a teacher who can help me learn about that.”
    Akka’s gaze pierces me. “Veda, if you want to relearn dance,
    You’ll need to begin at the beginning.”
    â€œAlong with the little ones?”
    Part of me cringes at the thought.
    But I straighten up,
    look her in the eye, and say, “Yes.”
    â€œAs for fees, Veda, I do things the old way here.
    Each student gives me whatever they can.
    Some students pay nothing.
    I leave it up to them
    and their parents to decide what they can afford.”
    I’m her student already?
    Without having to prove what I can or can’t do physically?
    And she doesn’t care whether I pay?
    It feels too good to be true. I stutter my thanks,
    explain about the new limb I’ll be getting soon.
    Akka sets a date for my first lesson and says,
    â€œGovinda, the student who teaches the beginners,
is about your age.
    You’ll learn from him until
    you’re ready to learn from me.
    Come, I’ll take you to him.”

GREETING
GRACE
    Dhanam akka leads me toward an airy classroom.
    Pausing outside the door, I hear a sound I’ve missed:
    the sound of feet raining a dance rhythm on the ground,
    a sound that fills me with a desperate longing for dance
    the way a wilting plant must long for water.
    â€œGovinda!” akka calls.
    A boy walks out of the classroom.
    His body
    long and muscular. Back perfectly straight.
    A dancer’s body.
    His hair
    a sheet of midnight. Sleek, shiny, shoulder length.
    His eyes
    pools of honey. Deep brown, flecked with gold.
    â€œGovinda, this is Veda,” akka says. “She was a dancer
    but met with an accident
    that cost her her right foot.
    You’ll be helping her relearn dance.”
    If Govinda feels shocked that he’s getting a student who is a below-knee amputee, he doesn’t show it.
    He presses his elegant, clove-dark hands together,
    closes his eyes, and greets me the traditional way. “Namaskaram.”
    His voice matches his looks—deep, rich, smooth.
    The grace with which he bows his head and hands,
    the seriousness with which he says Namaskaram,
    as though he’s chanting a prayer,
    remind me of what the greeting means—
    that he salutes the God within me.
    When I return his greeting, pressing my palms together,
    it feels magical instead of mechanical.
    Govinda’s gaze meets mine
    and I burn with a desire to dance myself beautiful
    in front of him.

A REAL
SMILE
    â€œDhanam akka’s the one,” I tell Paati
    as I enter our apartment.
    Breathing heavily, she heaves herself up
    off the floor in front the household altar and says,
    â€œYour teacher is lucky, Veda.
    She’s found a student who’ll create a new world through dance
    just as Shiva creates new universes through His steps.
    A world where others with special limbs
    will learn to enjoy their beauty.”
    First thing Pa asks after he and Ma come home,
    â€œHow was the new dance school, Veda?”
    No surprise