One of my favourite poets Ogden Nash once said, and I quote; "Because some tortures are physical and some are mental,
But the one that is both is dental.
It is hard to be self-possessed
With your jaw digging into your chest."
I had this awful gap where my molar or premolar or one of those teeth that help me chew those steaks was supposed to be. It had stubbornly resisted the onslaught of beef, gum, chocolates, and what not, and the root refused to dislodge from wherever it was comfortably sitting. This led to an awful stench, every time i opened my mouth it smelt like the backwaters of Bombay so i just had to have it extracted. Off i went, skippety hoppety to the dentist.
Now, I'm very stoic, and sweet and even tempered. The milk of human kindness runs in my veins like the Ganges, perennial and with a constant stream of people doing their best to wash their dirty linen in it. But, but, BUT, that dentist really tried my patience, and how.
He took one look at my mouth and said, 5 fillings 1 extraction. Today we remove, and tomorrow we fill in.
I said ok. I mean i know the routine of ice cream after extraction. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a glutton, but thing is, nowadays, every time i open my mouth to eat something, everyone looks at me like I'm depriving entire Somalia of a months rations. I really need to lose the flab.
So, back to the dentist. After injecting me with anesthesia, he cleans it up and pulls it out. Even with the shots, it hurt. I stoically refused to scream.
One hour later the throbbing begins. I paid the b******* to hurt me. I will never ever eat chocolates, and forget to brush my teeth at night ever again, i promise myself. The missing tooth throbs. And throbs.
We go to watch Kung Fu Panda. The tooth throbs so much that i threaten the kid sitting next to me in the theater, "You say one more word and I'll shove my fingers in your mouth and take out all your teeth." The kid gets terrified, and shuts up. For the rest of the movie.
Next day, the fillings. He digs and prods, and cleans. I think to myself, this is how I'm going to die, mouth wide open and my silent screams echoing in my head. On this chair. Doesn't happen. He fills the stuff in. So much ceramic its like a crockery outlet inside my mouth. He asks me to snap my jaws. I do so, imagining i was a crocodile, and it was his head that i was snapping.
I go home, finish the rest of the tub of ice cream.
A week later, i forget to brush my teeth before bed again.
Please read that poem. You will be in splits.