the only person in the whole wide world this sort of incident has happened
to.
There I was, innocently biting into my Gulab Jamun while watching
Madagascar 2: Escape to Africa, on my laptop, when a shooting pain in my
teeth forced me to drop the bowl of thick sugar syrup all over my bare
legs. Nothing fell on my laptop thankfully, and I spent the rest of the
morning cleaning the room and myself. Only later did I realize that my
teeth needed to be checked by a dentist.
So, that evening, I walked over to a nearby clinic and got an appointment
for a later time that same evening. I walked in at the appointed hour and
sat on a plush couch, reading a copy of the latest Outlook magazine and
getting rapidly bored.
I must have dozed off because the receptionist shook me vigorously and told
me that the doctor was ready for me. In my groggy state, I yawned and
mumbled, “Finally. Thank you,” when she slapped me hard. I was stunned. I
held my cheek where she’s slapped me and said, “What did you say??”
Now, a normal human being would’ve asked this before slapping someone, but
she was a rare creature I guess.
“I said ‘Finally, thank you’ ” I told her angrily, still clutching my face.
“Oh!” she said, eyes widened in shock and apology. “I thought you said some
swear word. You mumbled so I couldn’t hear properly! I’m sorry! I’m really
sorry!”
Leaving her in the subservient state, I walked into the dentist’s room. He
was sitting in the center of the room on a stool, placed in front of a
horrifying dentist’s chair, which had all the evil accouterments one
usually associates with the murderous, villainous doctors in horror movies
– gleaming silver instruments that were sharp enough to rip someone’s
brains out through their noses. I gulped and stood there.
He saw me clutching my face and said, “Hurts, does it?”
“What?” I said, confused, and realized that I was still holding my face. I
quickly put my hand down and said, “No no, your receptionist slapped me
just now.”
He didn’t seem surprised. “Third one today,” he said resignedly. “I have to
fire her. Anyway, take a seat, please,” he said pointing to the torture
chair. I looked strangely at him and sat down. He said, “Okay, let me see…”
and shined a flashlight into my mouth and peered around. I could see the
bright overhead light and the dentist’s masked silhouette as he assessed my
dental strength.
“There’s some plaque,” he said. “I’ll get my associate to do something
about it,” and he walked out, leaving me in the chair, mouth open, with a
torture device sticking out of it. I twirled my thumb and waited until a
short, stocky woman came in and started poking around in my mouth with a
metal device that hurt like hell.
Five minutes later, it was all over and she announced, “We’ve removed the
plaque. That’ll be 1200 rupees.”
So, I paid up and walked out and I couldn’t help but feel that I’d been
cheated out of something. As soon as I stepped out, I saw the brilliance of
the dentist’s business plan – his clinic was right next to a bakery! I
could see breads and cakes and doughnuts calling out to me from within and
cursing my weak will, I went in and bought a fresh sugar doughnut and bit
into it. Just as I was about to wipe the sugar crumbs off my face, the
short, stocky woman dentist walked into the same bakery, bought some sweets
and gave me a knowing smile and walked out.
“Damn”, I said to myself as I walked back home, enjoying my doughnut.
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