A Doctor a day, keeps the Astrologer away.

III

The guy was staring at me. Can you believe it? He had the audacity to stand there and stare at me! I tell you, shame has become a rare commodity.

Behind him his nurse was setting up everything for him. While he looked at me, and tapped his elbows, his nurse laid down all those freaky tools I dreaded. Behind her soft music was playing. Admittedly, that was a nice touch. Not entirely unexpected though. This chap, as I have mentioned earlier has an irritating habit to dramatize normal stuff. And his techniques have developed over the time.

I remember when I had first visited him 6 years ago; I saw this poster outside the clinic. The poster depicted a brush in a position which can be described as having its hands-on-its-hip in human terminology. In the crevice of a particularly yellow tooth, some black substance with eyes and mouth seemed to be cowering with fear. And tagline, you will not believe, went something like this;

“SupaBrush: The ultimate savior for your teeth!”

There were a host of other posters too. A few depicted famous characters from all spheres of entertainment. I swear there was a poster depicting Star Wars between human faced Toothpastes and human faced Tartars. Another one showed Aladdin with shiny braces. A particularly frightening one showed Muhammad Ali glaring out of the picture with his pristine white teeth bared. The caption said: ‘For every fighter: Zingle White Mouthwash’

I mean there is a limit where you draw a line between what is certified LoL material and what is disgusting and creepy. But you cannot help this guy. His theatrics get better of him.

The last time I had gone to his place (The time before my-er-wisdom-incident); I had a root canal and 4 fillings. When I asked him about the probable cause of so much decay, he, without even considering once about how embarrassing it can be for a 16 year old, straightaway delved into my love life.

“Do you have a girl friend?”

~Er…yes

“How many?”

Now is that supposed to be a valid question? Sure it is flattering, yet its none of his freaking bulbous nose’s business.

~Only one sir.

For some reason he burst out here. Trying to stifle his non-existent laughter in an obvious way, he proceeded;

“Ever kissed?”

FUCK YOU!

That’s the first thing that came to my mind. Why in holiness’s name are you concerned with my sexual life? Or do you secretly parade the night-streets doubling up as a Sex-Guru?

~Yes sir, sometimes.

I was turning purple by this time. Not because of embarrassment, but because of the hotness of his room, and the way he was hovering around me.

“Hmmm… Now that may pose a little bit of problem…”

I swear that got over me. I rose up and sat on the settee.

~Oh yeah? What problem can it possibly create for you? (Stressing on that you)

He missed the sarcasm! For holiness’s sake, he missed the sarcasm drooling on his face!

“My work doubles up of course. Not to mention Sarita here (his nurse) will be displeased about handling all the cement and instruments. And of course, I’ll have to import that special Mouthwash yet again. The prices are going sky high I tell you.”

If by any possible means you can imagine a mixture of exclamation and question mark form on a human face, you can imagine how my face was looking at that time.

~What mouth wash? What is all this? How is it in any way related with my girl-friend and our-hmm-things…?

“Oh well, its an awful lot of technical thing. You see, your girlfriend is dangerous.”

I upped my shirt. Did he really see that hickey near my collar bone?

~Oh well… yeah… (This time, I did blush)

“No no, you misunderstand me. She actually is dangerous. She carries a variety of potent bacteria”

Er, what?! (In my mind)

(Reading my face)

“See her oral surfaces are full of these bacteria, which in the act of your kiss; get transferred over to your mouth. This might be the reason for your current predicament.”

~Oh, ok. Fine… (I nodded, having understood not a single bit)

So you see how this man works? He thrives on his histrionics! Which is uncool, let me add. Thoroughly uncool. I mean a guy driving in the wrong direction of a one way street and beating the poor guy he hit can be cool. But this guy cannot! In fact no doctor can. They just lack the much needed subtlety.

Anyways, before I proceed to continue from the time he was staring at me, let me tell you how I absolutely deserve the nickname of Doctor Helmet.

I won’t delve into its origins, since time and purpose do not serve. I do not wish to stray your minds with story’s that seem delusional. Suffice to say, it includes a big break up, a lot of traffic jam, a near fatal mishap between a cycle and a pair of roller skates, and a big moron of an oaf, because of whom the title got plastered on me. Though I’ll be considerably conceited if I deny the fact that the epithet does not suit my personality. I mean anything with a doctor prefixed to it is despicable enough to be uttered, let alone be borne day in and out. But I prove myself, as always, an exceptional case.

Just before I entered his cabin, I was sitting in the lobby. Yeah, you will wonder why I trouble with you with this seemingly innocuous information. It just goes on to display the amateur status of my writing prowess. Though do not be so judgmental. I was sitting in his lobby alright, but with a helmet on.

Now that might be surprising, isn’t it? (If not, come straightaway to my home at next given opportunity with a bottle of beer. I assure you, the sunset view along with the beverage will make up for a memorable evening.)

Yes, there I was, right outside his clinic, sitting smugly under my helmet, and wondering why the nurse was giggling. For a few minutes I was pretty much sure that she was fairly overcome by my dashing persona and irresistible charm. I frankly felt honored, but thought it prudent to let her know she did not stand a chance. That is when I turned towards her and opened my mouth.

And closed it again. I think I have not told you that this particularly vain receptionist has installed a mirror just behind her! In which I saw myself, with a helmet still residing on my head.

For a few moments I was quite bested by confusion, since even after being attacked by a nagging feeling of discomfort, I did not manage to register the oddity in my appearance. Acting on the principle of responsiveness-to-stimuli I got up nevertheless. I strolled around, and then it hit me like a freight train! Why in a bald-flea’s-crotch’s-frigging-singular-hairs-name was I having my helmet on?

And so, being the proud man I am, I went on to display that despite the glaring strangeness of it all can actually be beneficial.

I suddenly assumed a poise Shakespeare might have been proud of. In that thoughtful, dreamy state of mind, I gazed at the stars, and looked pensive, as if undergoing deep mental overhaul over some fictional character’s duress. And then, walking ahead and ahead, I purposefully bumped into the wall.

See, it is not bad to have your helmet on at all the times! You never know when accident will strike thee, and even kindergarten kids know that precaution is better than cure!

Yeah, it might seem all mad and otherworldly to you, all this paranoia about helmets, but let me assure you that it has been one of the greatest inventions of modern day world. And also the most underrated one.

Although, I digress. The point here is, I live a life of abject seriousness. I wish to capitalize on every opportunity I am provided with. In which I am not helped with presence of people like this doctor of mine.

Which brings me back to the inside of the room. I am, as you all must know, reclining on his settee. He was sitting right beside me, his face resembling a lot like a bee which has been struck recently with lightning. His nurse was moving around in frenzy, readying things for the so called operation. I call it tampering with my otherwise normal (and prized) set of wisdom teeth.

“You look tense Soham”

I glared at him. He was crossing his limits now. First of all, he was staring at me like a Garfield ogles food. Next he asks me why I am looking tense!

“Yeah. I really don’t enjoy your little excursions into my jaw.”

He guffawed heartily at this. I meanwhile debated whether biting his hand or finger will be beneficial or not.

I concluded that discretion is better part of valor. Better be considerate than fall to his levels.

Seemingly in a good mood, he barked the poor nurse to get ready with the suction. She jumped at the orders and in haste pulled at the tube with rather unwanted strength. Which broke the cap of that suction thingy, relegating it useless.

I heaved a sigh of relief and controlled myself from kissing that girl. Two things stopped me. Firstly she was not a pleasant sight to look at. Secondly, I think that the doctor would have broken us apart and asked me to drink the mouthwash first. Both the thoughts were rather unappealing.

But I was nevertheless delighted. The badass was infuriated. Had it not been for my presence, I am sure he must have extracted that nurse’s teeth then and there, without even using anesthesia. But he desisted. Quickly composing himself, he coolly muttered,

“Leave it. Prepare cotton”

I meanwhile was pleasantly overjoyed. Previous experiences had made me somewhat vary of the suction thingy. Somehow raw air was not at all comfortable to the freshly open tooth flesh. And the suction thingy rendered my oral surfaces extremely dry, thereby aggravating the pain experienced on slightest contact of anything.

“Soham, a valuable tip. Do not get so scared. Exhale dude! Do not be so serious about life at all times”

At this statement I had a mini emotional upheaval. I was thoroughly confused what to cringe at. The fact that he used the word ‘dude’ (I’d refrain from venturing into details of his pronunciation), or because he was trying to inspire me. For a few minutes I tried in vain to maintain a straight face.

At this point, I think I should tell you that I am a very practical and non-nonsense person. I do not like messing around too much. It appalls me, when creatures such as this doctor try to trivialize life. Life is no joking matter, especially just before you are about to change the landscaping of someone’s mouth. Save the bohemia for lighter times.

And as usual, his latest comment did not assuage my fears. Instead it left a bad taste in my mouth. (Hopefully he must have had to suffer on this count too. I know it sounds disgusting, but hey, if you throw a stone in mud, a little of it will get splashed on you too)

His smile perceptibly faded. He shifted uncomfortably, turned around and unhooked the drill from the table.

I took a deep breath, and prepared myself for the pain.

He fooled around initially, trying to make a show if all. I sat there, clutching at the settee’s ends, braced to face the pain. Which did not come at all.

He withdrew the machine frowning. I opened my eyes, and saw him tense up his brow as if he was trying to understand theory of relativity.

What!

Apparently, he was not satisfied with light adjustment. I swear I could have murdered him for doing such a thing. It’s like stopping suddenly on a treadmill.

After making inconsequential changes in the angle of his light, he again commenced. And I, as usual showed immense bravery as the pain slid inside.

I am sure you must be curios about how I managed to gather so much courage. I assure you it takes a lot of mental and physical will to prepare yourself. It also requires that extra quality of patience and perseverance, especially if you face caricatures like my doctor, who feel that they are walking the ramp while carving holes in your cavities.

And after half an hour full of ordeal I was finished. Not without the cotton hysteria though. It satisfies me a little, but nevertheless, it came for a price of its own.

Since there was no suction to control the saliva formation, the doctor, showing his highly creative stupidity shoved a lump of cotton all around the saliva glands. One wad was so long, that it crept till the wisdom tooth, which he was filling up with cement. I have already told you about the pain one feels in his open wounds. And at this particular juncture, the filling hadn’t been done and my extremely dry tooth was open and paining. And on came the wad of cotton. Unwittingly, the doctor cemented the tooth with a little bit of cotton. Thus it got stuck. With a smile of satisfaction, he tried to pull away the wad but to no avail. He tugged it harder, but nothing happened. Finally he tried to wrench it with force, at which point I gave away to pain, and closed my mouth.

The sleeping pigeons on the tree outside his clinic might have been awoken by the shriek that issued from his mouth (his teeth, to my immense satisfaction I found were filled too.)

“You… humph… gotta be… careful… with your…. MOUTH!”

“Sorry mate… it hurt me man…”

“Still, make sure nothing is inside you while you do something stupid. This time it was my hand. Next time you might close in with the machine”

I am damn sure that was a veiled threat. He was going to avenge me, and very soon.

“We are done for today. Report to me back in three months to see the progress.”

‘Aye Aye Beelzebub!’

Needless to say I was more than happy to leave him to his devices.

I didn’t know he was so treacherous; otherwise I would have toned down on the felicity. But life is such. Once done the right way, it goes around even for the back way.

Over the years I have discovered a general consternation that inhabits people when they hear the word ‘doctor’. As if, more than the disease itself, they fear the generally fat chap, with a white overcoat, and a pair of stethoscopes hanging by his neck. (Depending on the place and person, this appearance might well be complimented with hairy ears and nose, and also wild spectacles that almost look like an instrument for hypnosis. Come to think of it, it actually might be an instrument of hypnosis. But more of that later on.)

My point here is that even though they have, over countless centuries been the reason human race is still surviving; I have a firm suspicion that doctors are not what they really look. I feel they have a deep connection with occult sciences. Now I know this claim appears outrageous at first glance; but let me enumerate the reasons for my belief.

Take a look at the mirror. What do you see? A normal, healthy and, (hopefully) happy face? I expect you are glaring back at your reflection; showing off a set of horrid, crooked and yellow teeth, and feeling happy about nothing in particular… your life is content, your body is in top class condition and there is not an inch of you which is infected. (By the way, you can stop smiling now; that was just for illustrative purpose.)

And now bring to your mind, the image of your doctor. Yeah, doesn’t your heart recoil? You smell that anti-septic stench of trouble… Illness… Pestilence!!! Suddenly, nothing is right with you. Your back is aching, your hairline is thinning, your nails are pale, your color is drained (of course, make the exception in your teeth’s case, since it never is healthy anyways). All of a sudden, the world is collapsing around you…!

Yes, you guessed it right. More than the disease, it’s the doctor which you fear. You just have to remember him, and voila! You start predicting your doom. All kinds of pains emerge, and stealthily, fear starts gripping your body. Holy crap! Your pupils are dilated; your heart beat is above normal! You get tired very easily… Your armpits sweat too much… (Yuck!)

(By the way, the last one is true. This heat is killing man, I can really understand. No shame in having collected armpits.)

So all sorts of creepy thoughts start flocking you… Suddenly you see future clearly. And future spells just one thing. DOOM! Slowly. Torturously. You realize that destruction lurks in every corner, and follows you discreetly. You become conscious that every time you saw someone from the corner of your eye, it was not a hallucination, but your destruction watching you closely, keeping a tab on your activities. You realize that the real reason for food disappearing from your kitchen every night was because you were not feeding your fear well. But now you are. What a relief man, at least the food will be saved…

Er… Anyways, now that you see how flawed you actually are, the most important realization of your life dawns on you. And it is:

“A doctor a day keeps the astrologer away.”

Yes, it’s true. Once you have met a doctor, you might no longer need the services of an astrologer. You might yourself be able to predict your future. No need for tea leaves or crystal orbs or tarot cards anymore, those are all phony stuff. The real deal is a doctor. A doctor invokes a secret spell, and activates the inner astrologer inside you. And life starts falling in place then.

And so, I come back to my original point. Which is to declare the doctor fraternity is hand in glove with the Satan himself!

These doctors are made up of dark materials I tell you. They are not normal. They are evil, witches and wizards under the guise of humans. I think that their education is a big sham, and in fact, they are taught magic and occult sciences instead of anatomical ones. Personally speaking, it won’t take more than a half wit unlike myself to figure out which vein to cut and which not to. As a matter of fact, it’s no different than diffusing bombs; if you hit on the red, just cut it off! Now that does not need seven-eight years of training! In reality, these doctors are taught all of the dark arts and supernatural stuff. Things like how to make normal humans crap in their pants, or appear clumsy yet dangerous and stuff like that. These doctors are not normal, believe me. They do funny things to us normal people, things which bamboozle us beyond recovery.

How can you repudiate the fact that we all are scared of doctors? I bet we were not always scared though. There must have been a time when we used to find them amusing, humorous really. I mean they are mostly paunchy, talk gibberish, write nonsense, and are mostly lost inside their own shell. How scary is that!? You know what; we are all conditioned to be afraid of doctors. They use their magic and science, to hypnotize us into being afraid of them. It’s just a trick of theirs to keep us under their thumb, so that they can rule over us forever.

Remember good ole Pavlov and his dog? The tinkling of bell and salivating of dog-mouth? We have also been trained over the years like poor Pavlov dog. Now we just need to hear the word doctor, and there it is; fear scrambles in upon us faster than Harry Potter’s Dementors.

Funny people these doctors are. But only to themselves. As far as we are concerned, I am sure of one thing. They are harsh and vindictive. They don’t spare. Don’t make exceptions. All they do is laugh secretly:

“Muhahahahahahaaaa!”

Ooops! Dentist’s appointment in ten minutes! Better rush…

After twenty years, I can finally claim to have truly become human in all senses. No longer am I a dumb animal who walks only on his two feet. I have completed the qualifications required for myself to be considered a normal human being. I am now intelligent, or as I prefer calling it; “Wise.”

No it’s not because I have completed any formal education, or because I have been meditating on top of Himalaya’s. In fact, it has been (to my considerable surprise), a fruit of no labor on my part (at least conscious one). In fact, I would have been fairly unaware of this feat if my Dentist would not have thrown light on it.

He gave me the good news yesterday when I visited him for a check up. As usual I was expecting some earth shattering news of grave concern, but was pleasantly surprised when he informed me about this accomplishment of mine instead. I almost felt like throwing a party then and there, but somehow managed to control my emotions. For some reason though, he chose a very somber demeanor during the whole thing.

“Soham, your Wisdom tooth is appearing.”

Can you believe it? The geezer almost stole the thunder away from my happiness. I was pretty much unfazed for a few minutes, since the creepy guy thought it would be funny to have a look like that of a guy declaring death sentence. But after few tense minutes of silence it hit me and I realized the implications of what he said. I actually thought he will burst out laughing and say, “Gotcha!”, but he did not. He stood there, his cheek puffed out as usual, his lips pouting disgustingly, and eyes drawing blank. That did puncture the bubble of euphoria swelling inside me.

I cleared my throat, “Erm… Is that wrong?” I should mention here that I am a proud fellow, and bestow a lot of confidence on, what I shall term as my potential.

He stood there looking at me as blankly as ever. “Its not unusual. But it’s painful. Sometimes.”

Now after hearing that statement I was pretty sure that poor chap had gone bananas. I felt a sudden surge of sympathy rushing in my heart at the thought of the kind of wistful life he leads. I almost wanted to go out and touch him lightly and say, ‘It’s ok, you know. It takes time. But I am sure it will be worth it.’ But I desisted. I perceived making him aware of his unintelligence will not go well with my bill. Meanwhile he started talking again.

“It will take a little time to observe the developments. The gums are swollen as of now, and we need to let them gain normalcy before proceeding to see the damage or its prospect.”

Hang on, am I missing something here? Gums? Damage! What is the old chap bickering about?

It was then he stowed a mirror in my hand and things started to fall in place for me. Unfortunately.

For all those innocent, deserving people who keep great faith in themselves, I must tell you this. As much as it breaks my heart to expose you to the truth, I must do this for your own safety. It was very hard for me to take the fall. I wish you are not shattered after hearing this.

Wisdom tooth has nothing to do with intelligence.

Sigh! For two glorious minutes, I had accelerated past all the levels of Maslows pyramid and attained my self actualization at one go. I was at top of the world, having consummated all my desires, since its intelligence we all seek. But no! I was wrong. I was not wise or intelligent anymore. In fact far from it. I was pretty much as dense as an obdurate ape who is unable to make distinction between a banana and a human penis.

This particular doctor had a real bad penchant for dramatics. I must tell you that this was not the first I was fooled by him. I have suffered twice before at the hands of the same chap, and that is not to count the other fellows who have duped me just on the basis of their MBBS. To be really frank, and this is really confidential matter, so do not tell anybody about it; but to be really honest, I have suspicion that like the Freemason’s and the Knights Templar, these doctors of the world have their own secret organization. I have often seen these people act suspiciously, and even have caught a few of them red handed in their secret mission to destroy the world order. Consider this: They have an undeniable upper hand in our lives, and for some reason, entire mankind is dependent on them. They walk with a swagger unmistakably that of a predator, live a posh luxurious life, and treat ‘normal’ humans with considerable distaste. I can even imagine their underground conventions, at which they secretly discuss their plans of a gradual destruction of worldly order, and establish the rule of knights in service of the MBBS. I even have doubts that MBBS is not a degree, but actually the code-word for the leader of Doctors worldwide. It is really a creepy thought I must say.

But keeping my fears at bay momentarily, I must say that I am extremely disappointed by the way things have shaped up. Not only have I lost my status of ‘wisdom’, but I also carry a pair of decaying teeth. Which could mean only one thing,

“We’ll fill it up. It will take a minor drilling of moderate pain,” he said smilingly, “Then it will all be over. After that, all you will have to do is to brush well.”

Yeah, thank you. I would like to put you to drilling once. Then we will see who smiles.

“Should I fix the appointment for Tuesday?”

I nodded meekly. Ho-Hum!