I will not root for a root canal again!

I will not root for a root canal again!

Every time I heard someone tell me that they had visited a dentist I would look at them pityingly and say with curiosity “Really? How many teeth did he remove? As if people go to the dentist only to have their teeth removed! And then that day, horrors of horrors, it was my turn to be in the dentist’s chair, lying dazed in a half reclined position, with apprehension in my eyes, my mouth wide opened, heart beating fast and hands clenched with readiness to either pray to God and beg him for one more chance or maybe all ready to punch the “Dentist God” hovering over my face. I felt that if I was able to swipe once at him just once, of course out of defense, and cry out in triumph” An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!! As quoted in the Bible, Old testament-Genesis!

It all began one innocent evening when I felt that as Shakespeare’s Hamlet would say,” Something is rotten in the state of Denmark!” Only this time, it was not Denmark….! So having reluctantly trudged to the Dentist , there was I all cringing & helpless against the onslaught of a man who was determined to make me his next victim! And there was he digging in my mouth, certainly with more enthusiasm and energy than the municipality road diggers and using a hose with chilled water with such awesome pressure that would give a complex to the corporation water supply department!

And then the instruments! Oh God the instruments! I shuddered and looked away when I saw them all conveniently arranged and displayed on my stomach like pastries and puffs in a bakery, with different bits and bytes – pun intended- to cut and grind and whittle and chip and slice and drill, drill, drill! The doctor should have been a driller working on an oil rig! I am sure he would have got the best driller award! With a stoicism that Brutus of Julius Caesar would have been proud of, I tried not to grimace or show any emotion that would convey that I was not exactly enjoying it! In fact, I even saved a knife or a chisel – I think it was a sword or a teeth cutter—God Knows!- from falling down from the stomach pedestal it had been placed on and with the greatest stupidity held it out as if encouraging him to keep cutting up my teeth! After all just before he began the project break teeth, I had, with pompous bravado very proudly and nonchalantly proclaimed:” Oh I have a high tolerance of pain. Don’t worry! Carry on Doctor!! Guess I dint want him to like Hamlet say,”Frailty thy name is woman!

This is an excerpt from a speech I gave at Infosys for a humorous speech competition, which I won:)