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
“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.
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