If only this toothache would go away ...”, I mumbled casting a glance at the miserable faces in the clinic. Some wore appliances in their mouth, some cradled their faces and a few looked askance. Some tortures are physical, some mental and this one combined both as it is dental.
Seeing the depressing scenario, I wanted to scoot. But my niece, Sajida Parveen, tugged at my sleeve. “Chacha where are you going. We came to consult the doctor,” she gently reminded. She was determined to give herself a facelift come what may. After a quick examination Dr Chandrashekhar Rao suggested surgery for proper alignment of the teeth. I hoped my niece would say a big ‘no’. But her resolve surprised me. She was prepared to ride out the painful process for a bright smile.
The die was cast. We came on the appointed day for what the doctor called a minor procedure. The doctor was busy as usual. He was speaking continuously on the phone even as my niece was wheeled into the operation theatre. As I looked at him with pleading eyes, he cut the phone and remarked, “Dentistry is not expensive, neglect is”. The expense was the last thing on my mind. I only wanted him to pay attention to the job at hand. Anyway with professional cool, the doctor walked into the theatre as I paced the floor outside with prayer on the lips. After what seemed an eternity, a nurse emerged and asked me to come back in the evening as the patient was under observation.
Like many others, I have a mortal fear of dentists. I still shudder to recall the toothache that opened like an umbrella in my body. The dreaded moment was when the doctor waved a menacing instrument in my face and asked me to open my mouth. I meekly complied but he kept hollering—wide, wider. Mumbling an oath I wondered whether the doctor wants to look in or walk in. Many think those without toothache are the happiest lot. But there are some who would rather go for a root canal if asked to choose between it and the devil. Sure it does different things to different people. Some grow bitter with age—the more their teeth fall, the more biting they get.
When my niece returned home in the evening, her heavily bandaged face gave us the creeps. “Don’t speak to her as her teeth have been extracted,” I told my family members. Taking a paper and pen, Sajida scribbled. “Dard nahin, dukh horaha hai” (No pain, only anguish).
That has become a catchphrase in my family. Sure, strength is nothing more than how well you hide the pain.