A Time to Dance(18)

WHEELS

SHORTEN





I avoid looking at my chopped-off lump of leg uncovered.

            When nurses change my dressing

            I stare at the banyan tree outside.

            But when I navigate in “my own special wheelchair”

            —rigged with a pad to keep my leg elevated—

            I can’t not see

            this broken bit of my body that I hate.


Chandra hates her flat chest.

            Chandra’s eldest sister hates her fat thighs.

            I never found myself beautiful

            until the day I won the dance competition

            but I loved my strong body anyway.


Stuck in a wheelchair,

            I’m waist-high to everyone else.

            Or worse,

            lower than even that.





FORWARD





Pa, Ma, and Paati are in the hospital room

            when Jim strides in with a pair of crutches.

            Jim says, “Got a feeling you weren’t too keen

            on wheelchairs. Or walkers.

            Thought you might prefer to leave the hospital on these.”

            “Yes!” I can’t wait to stand dancer tall.

            Move without rolling on wheels.


Jim’s eyes sparkle at me. “We’ll need to practice.

            Especially going down stairs. Come.”

            Pa says, “Won’t crutches hurt her ribs?”

            Jim reassures him it’s okay.

            Ma touches my shoulder, then draws back quickly,

            as if she’s scared I’ll bite her hand off.

            I don’t like Ma acting so unsure of herself.

            I almost prefer the old Ma, who’d argue with me.


Paati pats my cheek, like she used to when I was little

            and I fell down and hurt myself.

            Her firm touch tells me she expects

            I’ll get up without a fuss.

            She leaves me no choice

            except to get off the bed,

            lean on my crutches, and try.


Bowing low as though I’m a princess,

            although I must look as ungainly as a clown on stilts,

            Jim says, ceremoniously, “I’ll hold the door, ma’am,

            while you walk through.”


My ribs jolt with pain and my shoulders feel raw

            but I return his grin.


And

            I go

            forward.





NICKNAMES





My crutches carve wide circles in the air.

            “Veda, can you lift and plant your crutch tips?

            Please don’t swing them.”

            I plant crutch tips ahead, pull forward

            with my body and

            what remains of my legs.


As Jim guides me

            on my new mode of travel, I get him to tell me

            how he first came to India.