forgetting the other’s off.
Sway, clutch the desk to keep from falling,
sit down, and click my leg back on.
FAR
from the
ENVYING CIRCLE
Elated I’m nobody at school again,
eager to be somebody at dance class again,
I celebrate the end of exam week
by going to see my dance teacher
to prove to myself and to him
that I can keep on dancing.
“Shouldn’t you wait for the better leg?” Paati asks.
I have waited
as patiently as a cactus waits for rain in the desert.
Jim will be pleasantly surprised when we meet next and I say,
“I’m dancing already.”
He might even be so happy
he hugs me.
Uday anna’s front door is open,
and when I enter,
Uday anna whips around.
“She’s walking!” Kamini says.
“Come in. Sit down.” Uday anna motions to a chair.
“We’ve missed you.”
Missed me so much you didn’t visit?
I don’t ask.
Insulting him won’t get me what I want.
I need to use my anger to fuel my dance.
“I’ve missed dance,” I tell him. “But now I’m well
enough to start again.”
“You’ve lost your leg!” He shakes his head
as though I’ve lost my mind.
“Sir, haven’t you heard of Sudha Chandran?
She danced with an old-style Jaipur foot.
And I’m getting a far better prosthesis than hers. Soon.”
“Veda, we must be practical—” Uday anna’s reluctance
goads me on. I say,
“I
can
dance.
Even on this leg.”
Feeling Kamini’s eyes on me,
I turn to glare at her.
To my surprise, she shows me the symbol for friendship,
Keelaka hasta mudra:
the little fingers of her hands bent and locked together.
In her expression I see
no hint of envy.
She must be confident we’ll never compete again.
Even the other girls stare at me
expectant,
not jealous.
I’ll show them.
I assume the basic Bharatanatyam stance:
half-mandi.
Toes turned out sideways, heels slightly apart, I lower my hips, bend my knees,
shape my legs into the sides of a diamond.