i have been in mortal fear of the brood called dentists for some time now.
may i add that the fear cannot possibly be all that misplaced. see, fiction is borne of facts. now that this premise is established... i present my next argument.
several years back, when my mind was still impressionable, i happened to watch a horror film. let me admit here that by nature, i am actually quite a phattu. for all that bravado and attitude, if faced with clear and present danger, you would probably find me sitting squat and still, knees trembling, with my hands over my eyes, hoping it would all just disappear.
much as i would like to imagine that i am a tight-assed-svelte-butt-kicking-electra, the truth is far removed.
i was alone that day and while switching channels came upon this hoppping mad dentist who, after strapping his patients to the chair, would butcher them with chain saws and some weirdass, awful, malicious contraptions. the film of course revelled in gore and spouts of blood.
the idea struck home and stayed... i have never been to a dentist since then. the last i went to a dentist was when i was five. i avoid them like the plague. the concept of having to lie down on that chair, surrounded by strange equipment, turn my head up and open my jaws wide enough so some cold, steely equipment can be inserted into it, is clearly masochistic and certainly not on my list of pleasurable things to do in the evening.
until a few days back.
i am getting them wisdom teeth...
these little calcium monsters are vestigeal third molars. meaning the damn things were of some use when our anthropoidal ancestors hadn't discovered the culinary benefits of fire and had to rip and chew foliage. they have no other use today except to be a nuisance, and cause smart people to make inanely unwitty remarks.
scenario 1:
"hey, what happened? you look under the weather".
"nothing, just a toothache, wisdom teeth, you know".
"Achha, matlab now finally you are getting some akkal haan?"
will somebody tell these smart-asses how totally uncool this is?!
scenario 2:
"oye, chal lets go eat some pani puri".
"i cant, got a toothache, wisdom teeth yaar. besides i got a lock jaw, cant freaking open my mouth".
"(many chuckles) guess what else that is going to rule out! (maniacal laughter)".
i rest my case.
can we put these nutcases in a straight jacket and gag them please?
i had to drag my trembling knees over to a dentist. and as i sat quivering jelly like on the dreaded chair, i took in all the steely prods and pokers (no chain saws or hack saws, i noticed). this rather jolly, rotund woman with a backside that would put noah's ark to shame came waddling over.
this was a little re-assuring, i must say...
in very maternal tones (i mean my amma's strict, no nonsense tone), she asked me to open my jaws, flashed a light into the caverns, and announced the verdict.
the offending little bastard would just have to come out, it had 'impacted' into my gums. how soon can i come in for an x-ray, so that we could then surgically remove the tooth?
i almost passed out.
i put on my best brave face, said i would be back as soon as possible, picked myself out of that chair and scuttled out at the speed of light.
angel face or not, no one's going poking around my jaws (stop that vivid imagination you corny lot). i am on painkillers now... maybe i should just wait for that tooth fairy.
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The crocodile, with cunning smile, sat in the dentist's chair.
He said, "Right here and everywhere my teeth require repair."
The dentist's face was turning white. He quivered, quaked and shook.
He muttered, "I suppose I'm going to have to take a look."
"I want you," Crocodile declared, "to do the back ones first.
The molars at the very back are easily the worst."
He opened wide his massive jaws. It was a fearsome sight––
At least three hundred pointed teeth, all sharp and shining white.
The dentist kept himself well clear. He stood two yards away.
He chose the longest probe he had to search out the decay.
"I said to do the back ones first!" the Crocodile called out.
"You're much too far away, dear sir, to see what you're about.
To do the back ones properly you've got to put your head
Deep down inside my great big mouth," the grinning Crocky said.
The poor old dentist wrung his hands and, weeping in despair,
He cried, "No no! I see them all extremely well from here!"
Just then, in burst a lady, in her hands a golden chain.
She cried, "Oh Croc, you naughty boy, you're playing tricks again!"
"Watch out!" the dentist shrieked and started climbing up the wall.
"He's after me! He's after you! He's going to eat us all!"
"Don't be a twit," the lady said, and flashed a gorgeous smile.
"He's harmless. He's my little pet, my lovely crocodile."
- Roald Dahl
Weather a poem depicting the plight of a dentist will help you with your next appointment is not really for me to say. I too need to get my wisdom teeth out soon (all four in one go) and am not looking forward to it. However, the one silver lining that I have managed to cheer myself up with is that the dentist usually prescribes such strong post-operative sedatives that even the most mundane day at the office will seem like a visit to the fun factory.
heyy! awesome poem! totally loved it! thanks rohan!
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