I left the back-yellow cab to enter into this ballet performance downtown. The entrance was themed white and the similar theme shouted my gown’s color. It was just two hours ago when me and a friend, decided to set out arbitrarily. She hooked me with the tickets to ‘Wonder Dancers’ troop. We went inside the big auditorium. The more I rolled into it, the more the beauty touched me. All mutter from the multitude we moved to melody. The seats were arranged in a manner as in a stadium. There, some familiar faces, and the pianist. The pianist filled me with his (melodious) tunes. Music always creates magic. It provokes all the senses, one can even taste it. It tasted like that sweet brownie with ice cream that melted in my mouth and was something hard to resist. As the music surrounded me, everything else drained. We took our seats in the third row. The smell of velvet welcomed me to our row. The comfort level of the seats was well thought. It was just right to absorb your wows for the ‘wonder dancers’. My hands felt the velvet handle moving with the music as I moved from one chair to another.
And as the pianist continued to show grace, I witnessed the troop scattering on the stage. They were in usual ballet dresses. The black skin cover, the light pink frills, hair tied to top, tan skin, crossed fingers which turned into a specific hand gesture, frowns turned to expression and the same ballet shoes. It all was so familiar to me. The music skipped its own beat. Seconds later, the pink feet were no longer completely on the floor, but just the toe. Those fierce hands moved into one another, just as a poet’s poetry. Those legs lifted in duality. With the music reaching the hook, they turned to gain energy. Twenty dancers came out as one. I felt as though I was amongst them. Dancing like the feather. Touching, which those fierce hands, everyone’s heart. Lifting those legs like the paper-weight from the paper. But then the reality hit me. I touched my legs, with a teardrop, just to realize that the legs once lifted themselves to the beats, now cannot even walk.
The music slowed down, and just like that, it ended. The auditorium was full of appreciations and applause for the artists. I was moved from the velvet to plastic. In my wheelchair, I moved out. The same familiar faces approached me. They were the choreographers of the act. They only came to greet me and thanked me for being a part of their troop in the past, before I lost my legs. I smiled and said, “I could see me on the stage.”
I rolled back to the cab.