A Time to Dance(42)

            “I see.” She waits for me to say more.

            Her silver 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.

            “When 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.”

            “Along with the little ones?”

            Part of me cringes at the thought.

            But I straighten up,

            look her in the eye, and say, “Yes.”


“As 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,

            “Govinda, 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,