My dentist, Manohar, is master of
relieving pains. I don't dread going to his place unlike others who love to
tell tales of their teeth in general and extraction of useless ones in
particular.
He is stout little man with very steady hands. He uses his
tools as if they are extension of his persona. The moment I enter his Surgery,
I forget my pains and find myself in a place where Dr Manohar is a high priest
in a shrine where pilgrims brings their tales of woes. These are to do with
young wives whose young ones start growing teeth where they should not be or
old folks who lost most of their mouthfuls through rages of bygone years. I
equally value Dr. Manohar and my teeth, whatever is left of them. I’m gone past
my sixties. My teeth are my allies in keeping my soul and body together. These
are still good grinders helping my stomach to digest my favourites. I like
eating well that tastes well, that looks well with inviting aroma. Cooking is
my hobby. I can do most of the Indian Cuisine: Biryani, Pilau, and Korma some
other esoteric dishes like Nihari cooked overnight eaten early in the morning.
"We are custodian of your set of pearls, you must look
after with care at home. Come back every six months and get a fresh
valuation." I loved it when he said that. These words are still engraved
on my memory lanes. That was years ago when I went to his practice just across
the road where my flat is on the top of the pub Long Horn. I don't drink. My
flat is my real abode .I have moved here recently. Perhaps it was turn of my
fate. That was already written. I like it here though: a place engulfed with
noises, smells and colours. The music flowing from the pub mixed with human
voices is pleasing. Aromas from the Kebab shop are appetising. Ethnic colours
of Arabs, Africans, Asians and natives make it an Island within an Island.
Dr. Manohar is a charming fellow. I often felt relieved even
with throbbing pains still under my jaws. He has a sweet voice and an endearing
vocabulary at the tip of his tongue. He uses it as professionally as he chooses
his tools of trade with care and purpose. He has tabs on every one's life. He
collects facts and figures, likes and dislikes of all, almost all of his
patients. He does it with a style and a smile. You feel safe on his dental
chair as if you are the only one special in the Surgery today.
"I hope your dog has now recovered after injury to his
leg, Mrs Bannett." Mrs Bannett was leaving after her routine check. It was
routine check day for me too. Mrs Bannett looks happy and satisfied.
I waited near the table filled with
glossy Magazines. The ones with gossips, scandals of the famous, the stars and
others--- it does its trick during busy periods, people while away time, without
knowing it. Waiting room is well designed -- children can play with the Toys
leaving parents sitting at ease. It is an oversubscribed practice popular in
the neighbourhood.
A routine check means a simple examination of teeth, of
gums, of fillings. I always took it sportingly. Looking forward to it as an
investment for my well-being and
perhaps
longevity.
“How sweet of you to keep your appointment, Mr Manno, I know
you always do." Dr Manohar smiles. “And how is your lovely wife, Rita, I
hope her other wisdom tooth is no longer a problem." I thank him for that,
reflecting on pains she has inflicted upon me by her acid-tongue over the
years. Toothaches and pains of life seem to run a parallel course. Formers can
me be taken to Dr Manohar. The other growing pains of relationships must be
endured with care and wisdom. Life has been a great coach to me so
far------thank God for that!
"Life is not a problem to be solved It is a mystery to
be lived." I read it somewhere. I remembered it while settling on the
chair. Lights targeting my open mouth. Busy fingers holding instruments
tapping, scratching, probing under my gums.
"Fine, tine, fine...." He pushes my chin.
He examines X-Rays taken last week with a serious gaze. I
don't ever recall similar expressions on his face. I'm puzzled but he maintains
his studied silence. He takes his time. He adjusts ceiling lights for
brightness, once again.
"Now I will check your upper
jaw." I could feel a change in his natural tone of voice.
"What is it that has brought in
sudden change?" I question myself.
Human
beings are also part of the mystery what we call life and what goes with it.
Unknowable and on the other hand, years after years, our experiences and belief
tells us : we know this we know that. We have seen this, we have seen that. We
know them all... It is all so simple. A commonsense, really. We all have it.
Don't we? It is then all knowingness that transforms itself into our
infallibilities. We succumb to that so very often. Our ego, self-love is all part
of that. They are as alive as we are.
In relationships, the shared years pass
by unnoticed, the perception of the self sharpens, and the arguments and the
resolutions of issues follow a timetable of their own. There
are unspoken rules for
both sides, husbands and wives, lovers and the loved ones . It is a game. This
is true of Rita, my wife for thirty-two years. She had an ego, an arrogance
concealed in doing things her own way. Her decision-making is independent. That
has been a perennial problem. She knew it, I knew it, and we couldn't do
anything about it.
She filed in
for
divorce
citing unhappy union she endured
for
the sake of the children. Now
they are grown-up she has made up her mind to
go for
this
freedom. I never imagined myself into this situation.
My memories of my mother and father are that of a union,
though fret with differences and rows but divorce was frowned upon.
That was
more than fifty years ago. Have we changed and see things differently? Times
are different. I don't know. But one thing I'm sure of. It is impossible to
know a person, especially my wife Rita The early years of togetherness, the
magic of the family with children now all gone. Our early nest, the rented
flat. Then a house acquired on a joint mortgage now priced at around £ 400,
000. She claims now 90% of that money through divorce court. She explains that
she earned more than me as my partner wife.
But what of growing old together, I always dreamed of. She
was not concerned about that. All she sees now is money. Not my old age, nor my
angina, or my diabetes.
"I never loved you." She tells me after filing for
divorce. She was an enigma for me then and a stranger now.
“Are all female kinds are puzzles?" I question myself. I'm
now scared of all women as a mad dog who is afraid of seeing water.
I was lying on Dr Manohar chair thinking all that. He is now
busy writing notes while referring to the X-Rays for time and again. The nurse
rearranging the set of instruments on the table.
"You can rinse your mouth now, Mr Manno " She hands
me a glass filled with Mouthwash while undoing the plastic bib for me.
I feel uneasy about this routine check-up. It was not the
same as compared to umpteen checks I had over the years. I don't know. I'm not
a dentist, how would I know. It’s Dr Manohar's voice: "Take this letter to
the Hospital." Handing me an envelope. " I'm not an expert in this
field---but I have to tell you. You may have to take a course of chemotherapy."
I thought I knew Dr. Manohar so well. I didn't. It is now hard to say about
myself. Isn't it?
© Azhar Latif May 2006
