A Time to Dance(75)

            onto the stage

            into the pain

            I felt when my body and part of my life

            were torn away.


My back hunched, I play the woman

            overcome by age and illness.

            In the scrape of the cane I hold,

            I hear the echo of my crutches.


In my second role, as Gautami, I hold

            not the body of my lost child,

            but my severed limb.


When Gautami is comforted by strangers,

            I hear the words strangers said to me after Paati’s death,

            and feel a sense of peace.


Dhanam akka nods and gives me quick pat on the shoulder.

            Radhika hugs me and says I was “amazing.”

            Govinda’s little sister, Leela, joins me in the wings.

            Together, we watch the rest of the play.


At the end of the evening,

            Govinda leads me onstage with him,

            ahead of the rest of the cast

            despite my minor role.

            Standing together in a group, we press our palms together

            and bow our heads to salute the audience.

            When our shared applause comes,

            it feels like being part of a winning cricket team,

            only far, far better.

            Because I’m part of a dance team,

            together with people who share my love of dance.





TO STAND





I find Govinda slumped in a chair when I enter akka’s study

            for our first class together after our performance.

            I can’t imagine why he looks so defeated.

            “Govinda? You were wonderful onstage.”


He doesn’t seem to hear me.

            “My parents want me to cut back on dance

            now that the production is over.

            To work with a tutor.

            Prepare for college entrance tests.

            Become an engineer.

            I don’t know how I can argue anymore—”

            He breaks off and stares at the carpet.


It was hard enough for me just fighting my ma,

            having Pa and Paati supporting me.

            Govinda has no one in his family backing him up.

            I put my hands on his shoulders.


“On top of it all,” Govinda says,

            “there’s a new beginner class I’m supposed to teach.

            I don’t want to give up my own dance lessons with akka—

            but there’s not enough time to do everything.”


“What if I teach your beginner class

            so you don’t have to give up your own—” I stop short,

            shocked by my own words.

            Me? A teacher? What am I thinking?


Govinda straightens up as if I lifted a load

            off his back.

            “That’s a great idea. You’d be good for the kids.