A Time to Dance(6)

            the story she told me as a child,

            the story I’ll perform at the competition:

            of how Shiva once competed at dance with His wife.


I try to make my dance appear effortless

            though it isn’t,

            the way Paati makes everything she does for me look effortless:

            cooking my favorite dishes,

            helping me with homework,

            combing knots out of my long curly hair,

            massaging my muscles until her touch chases my aches away.





THE MUSIC

of

APPLAUSE





My trembling fingers pin the free end of my dance sari

            over the left shoulder of my blouse.

            One last time I stretch each leg out, flex and point my bare feet,

            wiggle my toes to ease tense muscles.

            Every seat in the auditorium is filled.

            The air twangs with expectation like a veena’s taut string.


Last of twelve competitors,

            I’m hiding behind the wings, waiting.

            I watch Kamini finish up her routine.

            She twirls in a tight circle and comes to a stop,

            bare feet to the sides, knees bent outward,

            holding a diamond-shaped space between her legs.

            As Kamini walks offstage,

            Uday anna’s mouth shapes the harsh words

            “Not fast enough,”

            though she looked flawless to me.

            Kamini’s lips quiver, but I have no time to worry about her.

            I’m next.


The velvet curtain,

            crimson as the thick lines of alta painted on my feet,

            shudders apart.

            Hands at my waist, I march out

            keeping perfect time to the crisp, clear commands

            of Uday anna’s cymbals.

            The rows of brass bells on my anklets

            vibrate to the rhythm of the mridangam drummer.

            My skin tingles as I step into the music,

            give in to the icy thrill of pleasure

            that spreads through me whenever I dance,

            the pleasure of leaping into a cool lake on a sweltering day.


The music swells and strengthens like a flood.

            Waves of song pulse through my body.

            I love portraying Shiva,

            who, through the steps of His eternal dance,

            creates and destroys universes.

            I whirl across the stage,

            stop to balance on one leg,

            holding the other behind me with both arms,

            my body bent outward, bow-shaped.

            A burst of applause encourages me.

            Steps quickening, I build to the climax.


A rope of anxiety and excitement twists in my stomach

            as I assume the most daring pose in my routine: