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

there.
    What surprises me is how Ma reacts to my answer.
    She smiles a real smile.

SEEING BEAUTIFUL
    In Jim’s office,
    I see a chair covered with a white sheet.
    â€œTa-da!” he cries as he whips it off,
    revealing a nearly lifelike limb.
    â€œIs your new limb to your liking, ma’am?”
    My skin tone matches the limb’s hue.
    I stroke it. Something soft as flesh
    fills the space between the metal skeleton and rubber skin.
    I lift the limb.
    It’s lighter than my trial limb.
    I try it on.
    When they’re side by side and compared closely,
    my feet do look different. But no audience
    could tell them apart if they saw me from a distance—onstage.
    I press down on the toe.
    When I ease off, I feel a springiness to the foot,
    a push, giving me a faint pulse of energy back.
    Almost a response.
    â€œI love it!”
    Jim grins. “Amazing, huh? That foot’s durable, too.
    Should last a couple of years. Won’t wear out too quickly.”
    â€œWear out?”
    â€œDon’t look so worried, kiddo.
    The project will provide replacements.
    Your foot will wear out
    the way your shoes wear out.
    No foot lasts a lifetime.”
    Except the ones we’re born with.
    Usually.
    â€œAnything I can’t do with this leg?”
    I want him to say one word:
    No.
    Jim launches into a list.
    â€œ. . . can’t wear high heels . . .
    . . . can tiptoe
only
if knees are bent . . .
    . . . can’t flex and point the foot . . .
    but you’ll be able to dance Bharatanatyam.
    A below-knee amputee
    with faith in herself
    is two-legged, not one-legged,
    as far as I’m concerned.
    â€œNow, ma’am, would you try out a few dance poses, please?
    I want to make sure the fit’s perfect.”
    Assuming the basic half-sitting pose
    â€”feet splayed, knees out to the sides,
    legs bent like the edges of a diamond—
    I move my feet one at a time, slowly,
    then at second speed,
    then speeding up to third and fastest speed.
    â€œBeautiful,” Jim says.
    My heart races.
    The naked admiration in his voice
    makes me feel grown up.
    But then Jim
    squats and taps
    my unfeeling limb.
    â€œBeautiful,” he repeats. “Beautiful engineering,
    beautiful design,
    if I do say so myself.”

BOULDER
    Twice the age and size
    of every other beginner in Govinda’s classroom,
    I feel as out of place as a boulder
    brought down by the Ganga glacier
    from the heights of the Himalayas
    and abandoned on the river plain.
    By the back wall of the sun-drenched classroom,
    I skulk.
    But I can’t hide how I tower
    over the rest of my classmates.
    A little girl looks up at me. “You’re so big!
    Why’re you in this class?”
    While I wonder how to react,
    Govinda states matter-of-factly
    that I lost a leg in an accident,
    that I have a new one I’m learning to dance with.
    â€œBut we’re not here to chatter, children.
    We’re here to learn Bharatanatyam. Right?” he says.
    â€œRight!” Their attention shifts back to him.
    â€œWe begin every dance session with a prayer,” Govinda says.
    Uday anna’s class never began or ended with prayers.
    â€œAangikam bhuvanam yasya; Vaachikam sarvavaangmayam;
    Aahaaryam Chandrathaaraadhi;
Tham Namah Saathvikam Shivam.”
    He who resides within every being in the universe;
    who speaks the universal language;
    whose ornaments are heavenly spheres;
    Him we worship,
    Shiva, the serene one.
    Next, Govinda demonstrates
    the dancer’s apology to Mother Earth.
    With ease,
    the rest of the class imitates his movements.
    Palms on the wall for support,
    I manage to follow them,
    my pose imperfect, but not too noticeably different.
    We begin the first exercise, hands on hips,
    knees bent, feet to the sides,
    raising each foot off the ground and bringing it down,
    thaiya thai, thaiya thai.
    Govinda’s voice fills the room.
    â€œEmpty yourselves of