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A Time to Dance(89)

By:Padma Venkatraman


            raise my eyes to the heavens,

            my palms pressed together,

            thanking God for Uma’s smile.


Like a farmer welcoming a long-awaited monsoon

            I dance onto the empty stage

            beneath the shaggy banyan tree.


A crescent moon is barely visible

            in the mauve glow of the evening sky.

            In it

            I see the crescent caught in Shiva’s matted locks.

            In it

            I see the crescent scar on my residual limb.


I shift my weight from one leg to the other,

            turning in a circle.

            Slowly.

            Each green leaf above

            looks purer and brighter than ever.


For my invisible audience

            of the One

            I

            begin

            to dance.


Colors blur into whiteness

            and a lilting tune

            that is and is not of the world

            resonates within

            and without me.


My body

            feels

            whole.


In the beat of my heart

            I hear

            again

            the eternal rhythm

            of Shiva’s feet.





REACHING IN





“Good.”

            I look up to see Dhanam akka

            standing in front of me.


“Good,” she repeats.

            A word I’ve never heard

            her say to me until today.


“I am a teacher and yet

            there are limits to what I can teach.

            I cannot teach a student how to create

            the sacred space a meditative dancer enters,

            and so invites her audience to enter.

            She must discover it on her own.

            Alone beneath this banyan tree today

            you danced without any desire for acclaim.

            So your dancing feet led you

            into the temple of the dancing Shiva

            where they will always lead you, and those who watch,

            as long as you dance for your vision of the sacred.

            You carried my soul to a great height.

            Thank you.”


I

            should be thanking

            her.


“I’d like you to start

            solo lessons with me,” akka continues.


“But, akka—

            I’m not yet—I’m not advanced enough.”


“Aren’t you?” Laughter

            spills out of akka,

            her mouth

            thrown open so wide

            I can see both rows of her teeth.