Shark Teeth
I settled into my chair, looking at appointments for the day when someone knocked frantically.
“Mr. Singh? But Shasha’s appointment is in…” I gulped my words as another man followed him, carrying Neha in his arms.
Neha is Shasha’s younger sister, whom I met yesterday, very briefly. Neha’s chin is covered in blood, the bib has failed to do its job. Her blue dress is soiled in blood and saliva.
“Poor moppet!” My thoughts are shaken by her father’s quick fill-in.
“We heard a thud in the bathroom and rushed to find Neha on the floor, unconscious.”
He was profusely sweating with the morning exercise that he did not see coming his way. Between puffs, he continued, “Her mother’s hair brush was lying by her side, its handle smudged with blood.”
I immediately put on my apron and gloves to examine her and told her family to wait outside. Ruby, the nurse joined me and handed me a swab, while I picked the tweezers with the other.
My head is abuzz.
Only yesterday had I met Neha at my clinic. I had peered out to summon someone when my eyes met with big, brown eyes trying to peep in. She was almost six years old and her eyes brimmed with mischief and curiosity. I had smiled at her, only to receive cold stare in return. I craned my neck back in to pack up for the day. Shasha, a thirteen year old girl, was the last patient for the day. She had come for braces because she felt that her teeth were protruding. Well, her teeth seemed unruly but were still under control. Children these days are very conscious of their looks. So here was Shasha, all set to be caged for a few years.
As I kept the mouth mirror to be sterilised, I goofed about, contorting my face. My reflection was no where close to funny, hidden behind the mask.
I had laughed again under the mask, now understanding the cold stare from the little girl outside.
During my growing up days, my mother would teach me how to use a fresh twig of mango or neem tree as a toothbrush. The trick was to brush while pressing the teeth inside with the twig. I grew up in a small town in India and I did not use a toothbrush until I moved to college and to a bigger city. The twig had worked, apparently, because I own an orderly set of teeth. It could be genetics too, but I would rather go with the twigs.
Having a good set of teeth is an advantage in my profession. I only wonder, how do dentists with crooked teeth assure their patients of successful results; or the almost bald trichologists succeed in selling hair treatments to gullible patients sitting across the never-to-be-missed Before- After posters hung in the clinic.
I had met the little girl again, on my way out, Neha. She was hiding behind her father’s legs and was nudging Shasha. And she was grinning. Like a true dentist, I noticed shark teeth lurking from behind her baby teeth. I held her jaw, examined her teeth and casually told her father to help her get rid of the two baby teeth in the front line. Her father surrendered. Neha did not let anyone touch her tooth and they were afraid that she would have crooked teeth.
Her father’s fears were in the right place.
I bent forward and told her in a heavy, made up voice, “There are SHARK teeth coming up in your mouth. If you don’t get rid of your baby teeth, sharks will kill them and then they will eat all your favourite food that you want to eat. Everything!”
Her face turned ashen and I had immediately regretted my theatrics.
Shark teeth aren’t abnormal and happen in approximately 1 in 10 children. Mostly, shark teeth resolve without intervention (i.e. the baby tooth falls out and the permanent tooth takes its proper position). But Neha’s baby teeth had seemed to be in no hurry to go. Only yesterday…
I feel cold fingers on my wrist and I come out of my reverie.
Ruby has cleaned Neha’s face by now.
Neha gestures me to come closer and whispers, “I killed both of them before they could eat my pancake.”
She grins again, the baby teeth are gone and so is the twinkle of her eyes. Her cold stare sends chills down my nape. I bite my tongue hard for causing such a tumult and turn away, towards a mirror to put on my mask.
To my horror, two devil teeth have cropped out in my mouth, ruining my perfect set of pearls.
