There are more benefits to going for a dental treatment than meets the untrained eye. To name a few:

1. You tend to get closer to your family – your mother, brother and your sister-in-law – because it scares the hell out of you,

2. You tend to get more devoted to God – because it scares the hell out of you, and,
3. You learn to handle stress – because basically, it scares the hell out of you.

It all started on a Tuesday afternoon while having my lunch when I suddenly realized that half of my tooth was missing. And in its place there is a mushy ugly sensation that feels like my gum. Blessed as I am with an unfaltering instinct, I immediately came to know that its time to hit the dentist’s for the first time in my life.

As such, bravery is the second nature of a Sinha. But as they say when it comes to dental emergencies, the bravest of the braves give way to their natural instincts. Something of the sort happened to me that evening as I was going for the initial checkup with a dentist of decent fame in the circles of IT Companies (he was suggested by a colleague).

Dr. Gupte turned out to be an ok looking man in his 30’s and this, so to say, sent shivers down my spine. I'll tell you why it sent shivers down my spine. There is something about these ok looking men in their 30’s that makes them jealous of handsome looking men in their 20’s, such as me. And this made me a little skeptic in trusting him with my dental insides. But it is what it is and I let him go ahead with the checkup.

Dr Gupte: “Looks like a big cavity”

Me (trying to look intelligent): “ahem”

Dr Gupte: “might go for a root canal”

Me: “ahem”

Dr Gupte: “There is another very small cavity in the front tooth. But it’s very small”

Me (hating myself for eating chocolates): “ahem”

Silence

Me (hating myself again for sounding stupid): “Does it hurt?”

Dr Gupte (like a smiley sadist): “It might hurt a little. Might”

There is something about the way doctors say ‘it might hurt a little’. It makes you feel as if it’s going to hurt big time. They cannot be trusted – these doctors - especially of the dental variety. And so I decided that I will confirm the details with all my family members who have gone through it. I made some 20 odd phone calls that night.

Cousin of a friend: “Root canal is a piece of cake. No pain at all. Tooth extraction, on the other hand, is very painful”

Friend: “they inject an anesthetic in your mouth, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

Me: “WHAT?? they put a needle into your mouth? And you say it doesn’t hurt? What do I look like? porcupine eater?”

The conversation in the other 20 calls went almost on similar lines. Except the ones that I dialed to my mom to tell her how much I missed her and if the tooth got bad and I don’t get to see her again, she can keep all my wealth – which consists of a ball point pen and a notebook.

The next day was when I had the doom’s appointment. I found myself biting my nails in the waiting lounge listening to the moans of an old lady in there for her tooth extraction. Every time I heard her cries, I thought of taking my money back. But before I could muster up the courage to do that, it was my turn already. I suddenly wanted to send some one else before me, but there was no one there and the Sinha pride was at stake. So there I was, sitting in the time machine type chair, waiting for the monster to slay me.

This is for the record: he did pierce a needle into my mouth. And yes porcupines taste better.

The next 45 minutes were almost eventless except for the 26^th minute when Dr Gupte, while running a driller of sorts into my mouth, suddenly shouted “OH SHIT!!”

Me: “WHAT HAPPENED??”

Dr Gupte: “The band took off”

Me: “What does that mean? You will extract my tooth now?”

Dr Gupte: “No stupid, I will just put another rubber band. It’s to keep the joining intact”

Me (Sighing): “Whatever. You scared the hell out of me”

And so the ordeal was over in 45 minutes. Dr Gupte gave me another appointment for the front tooth cavity the next day but that experience was much better and easier for various reasons. We got along well as he told me that I was much braver than many others who create a scene at his clinic by holding his hand and kicking him at all the wrong places whenever it hurts them bad. And he also mentioned, in passing, that I was good looking. (I am a Leo so can’t help some bragging.) You’ld like Dr Gupte if you get a chance of meeting him – although it’s something you should wish against!

Note: I go about the world saying that I love to write and that I believe that the various ways of expression is the best gift that God has given to mankind. It’s been 6 years now; and all these years not even one day has passed when I have not thought about this fact of my life.
If I say that I love to express myself, and I don’t express this, it will be equivalent to being untrue and dishonest to me… And that is not what being Kinshu is all about…
I know I can never write well enough to express this in words… perhaps a few volumes would have done some justice… But let me begin with a blog… to my beloved father…

He smiled…

I am running to hide from mother for I have not completed my homework yet. I find him lying on his bed watching the television. I hide myself in his blanket and when mom asks about me, he says he doesn’t know. He looks at me and… he smiles.

Often for those insignificant, minute things which always seemed to make a lot of sense – lack of money, problems at work, and problems with relationships – he just smiled his way through. His bright, confident, cheerful smile that endeared him to anyone who saw it once. They say it’s not important how long you live. What’s important is how much you live in those moments. And as far as that goes, he lived many lifetimes on end.

I am so afraid of riding a bicycle that I even avoid watching my brother ride the wretched thing. I am already seven and my mom wonders if I will ever ride a two-wheeler. I am forced to sit and paddle. I have tears in my eyes as I search for him. He looks at me and… he smiles.

He is the best speaker I have ever heard. He never prepares for his speech, but on every Independence Day function I hear him speaking after hoisting the flag, always with his characteristic poise. I hope I could speak like him too. I enlist myself for a speech at my school assembly – only to find my hands shaking, my legs trembling and my voice stuck in my throat. I decide I will learn to speak from him.

It’s my birthday tomorrow. The phone rings and I lift the receiver. The person on the other end confirms my address and says that my video-game will be delivered in a couple of hours. I couldn’t believe my ears – when did we buy a video-game? I know that thing is expensive and we cannot really afford it. He himself said that when we first asked for it. But here it is, all for me and my brother to play with. Where did it come from? I am too happy to bother.

I am growing up to become an unabashed admirer. I want to copy the way he walks, the way he speaks, the way he eats his food, even the way he sleeps. I follow him everywhere he goes. I carry his briefcase to his jeep and style myself as he walks with it. I fight with him for pillows. Because he sleeps on two, I want two for myself; just because I want to be like him. He knows. He just smiles.

Its parents day at school and I haven’t done all that well this time. I am standing by the side of my teacher’s desk – head down and shameful. I know it will be even more difficult at home. I have done badly in mathematics, none of my spellings are correct; as if that was not enough, I disturb the entire class with my silly pranks. My teacher is furious and so is my mom. I lift my head a little – my eyes meet his and… he smiles.

The first thing that a son learns from his father is devotion. As I grow up, I feel my devotion towards him grow without bounds. I don’t want to question him. Not that I don’t have any questions. But there is so much love and awe that there is just no space for questioning. He is the hero of my life and if there is one person I want to be like, it’s him.

He takes pride in all my little achievements. He celebrates the day I become the Head Boy of my school. He celebrates even if I pass my exams with only an acceptable score. He calls up after all my papers and asks how I did. “I want 100 on 100” he says; and smiles.

Of the many things that I have learned from him, the most special would be his ability to love unconditionally. His love for his wife, his parents, his children, his brother, his sister, his nephews, his niece, and for all that was ‘his’, was beyond the scope of any kind of judgment. He simply loved them – no strings attached. If only people could learn this little secret, there shall be no problems in relationships.

We are building the house of our dreams. The dream that I remember my parents seeing since the time I have gained consciousness. I have never seen him so excited before. He wants to discuss every single detail of the house with his family, including the 17 year old me. And I do give my inputs though they are often stupid. He explains me why we shouldn’t do that, and just smiles.

I am filling applications for my engineering admissions. I gather everything I know about engineering colleges throughout the country. There is a good college in Patiala, another in Vellore, an REC in Allahabad, Bhopal, Trichy etc. There is a new common exam for engineering admissions throughout the country. He helps me in filling all my forms but always says the same thing: “I won’t let you go anywhere”.

“How will your papa live without you” he’d say. I am all smiles. In my heart of hearts, I don’t want to leave him either. But I already have a dream - the dream of giving abundance to my family. I insist as the dream beckons me. He knows that I will go. He just smiles and let it pass.

I am writing my 12th board exams. As always he asks after my papers. But he looks exhausted. Is that age catching up on him? But he is just 51. I see him growing weaker in a matter of months. Probably it’s the pressure at work. He’ll do fine – as always. After all he is my father. Nothing ever goes wrong with my father. Nothing can happen to my father.

It happened on a Thursday night. And my life was never the same again. It is a vacuum that cannot be filled, a pause that cannot be resumed, and a smile that I can never smile again.

The priest asks me and my brother to ask for one last wish from him before he leaves us. As I grapple with a thousand excuses of why he shouldn’t leave us, my brother says it:
“Please be my papa, in all my lives… ”

“Please be my papa, in all my lives… ” I repeat after him before I close my eyes… and he smiles…