not the one who does

Read the Uday Shankar book again. Same lines. They sit with me now. Not words. A room.

In the evening I went to the beach. Slow. Dr. Desai said it was ok. Boys were playing cricket on the sand. Loud and free. I smiled at them.

Then I saw her. A woman teaching a little girl kathak. By the railing. Ankles moving. Tiny taps. The girl was laughing.

I stopped. Stood there maybe three minutes.

I did not take a video.

Yaar. That is the part I do not want to write. I could have filmed it. For later. For proof that the dance is still in the world. But I could not. Because filming it would mean I am the one who watches now. Not the one who does. And I am not ready to be that girl.

Walked home in the dark. Keys in my hand. Pata nahi. Sab thik.

It is not thik. But I will say it is.