A Time to Dance by Padma Venkatraman Read Free Book Online

God
    blazes so fiercely I feel the heat of the flames
    He holds in one of His four arms.
    I miss
    the blissful ecstasy of the dancing Shiva
    I saw.
    Whose music I heard
    as a child.

ACTING ANGER
    At the bus stop, I hold my head high.
    I’m not a bride of long ago
    being forced into marriage with someone she doesn’t know.
    I’m not a widow of long ago
    whose world is circumscribed to a circle at her feet.
    I’m the granddaughter of a woman
    who was brave.
    Who used her anger.
    Who told me to treat the world as my stage.
    I hold myself as straight as I can on crutches.
    Pretend I’m the legendary Queen Kaikeyi,
    whose strength in battle impressed King Dasharatha
    so much
    he begged for her hand in marriage.
    I stare down the first nosy stranger
    who questions me.
    He’s a lowly subject
    of the kingdom I rule.
    The bus
    is my royal chariot.
    I return every curious glance
    with my imperial glare.
    No one dares pester me.
    On my way out of the bus,
    I poke through the crowd with my crutches.
    The old woman who sits up front jerks her chin at me.
    â€œYou there. Girl.
    When are you going to tell us how you lost your leg?”
    My regal stance must not scare everybody.
    I bare my teeth in a too-wide grin.
    â€œCrocodile bit it off.”
    My sarcasm is lost on her.
    She bends toward me.
    â€œHow exactly did that happen?”
    â€œLike this.” I thrust my face next to hers, open my mouth
    and snap it shut. Crocodiles don’t growl, but I roar, “Grrrr.”
    The woman shrieks and
    a ripple of laughter spreads
    as I stride down my royal staircase.
    Maybe I was mean. But if it’s won me peace, it’s worth it.
    Paati’s right. It’s all a matter of how you deal with things.
    And Chandra’s right.
    I’m strong. Even if my body is weaker.
    My crutches tap out a victory march.
    I strut,
    tired but triumphant, toward school.

FIRST STEPS
    â€œIs this my leg?”
    A foot stuck on a metal pipe
    all-too-visible through the transparent plastic “leg”
    that doesn’t match
    the curve or the skin tone of my real leg.
    â€œA trial limb. The clear plastic lets me check the fit.
    You can practice with this
    until the more modern one is ready.”
    Jim shows me a “silicone sleeve” that looks like a sock made of gel.
    The sleeve fits over my residual limb.
    A pin at the bottom of the sleeve
    clicks to reassure me the leg is on properly
    and clicks again when I take it off.
    Jim’s added soft straps above my knee for extra security.
    â€œReady to take the first step
    toward your shining future?” Jim says.
    Feeling as nervous as if I’m about to go onstage
    for another dance competition,
    I rise.
    My body weight isn’t even.
    I’m leaning on my strong left side, stunned by the effort it takes
    to raise my fake leg slightly off the floor.
    How much strength did I lose
    when they sawed off the muscles I once had?
    My fake foot is cold, hard, senseless.
    I glance down to see if it’s correctly stationed.
    I take another wavering step.
    My brain can command my artificial leg, but plastic can’t reply
    like muscles and nerves can.
    Hunched over, watching my hesitant feet
    I shuffle like the beggar Paati and I met
    on the way to the temple.
    â€œTrust your sense of touch,” Jim says.
    â€œWalk like the dancer you are.”
    Circling around the room with him a second time,
    I straighten up—back and neck erect.
    It gets easier. My third round already
    earns me Jim’s usual compliment. “Great job!”
    I wish I could vent my joy
    by leaping.
    â€œStart slow, kiddo. Wear this limb a few hours at first.
    Build up slowly to an entire day.
    Tell me what this limb does and doesn’t let you do
    so I can modify the design we have in mind. Okay?”
    I suck in my cheeks to keep from sighing with impatience.
    The next time we retrace our route, Jim says,
    â€œBack home, my patients can hold a guard