Yours toothfully!

Have you ever had surgery? What for?

Back in the day, long before mobile phones became a thing, most of our communication was via word of mouth. For instance, as a practicing advocate, Mum used to go to court every day. The court complex is like a humungous college campus; cases are heard in the various rooms, and often, these rooms are allocated only in the morning, so the advocates had to get to the court to figure out where and what kind of work they had for that day. So, while I was aware of where Mum worked, I would have yet to learn exactly where I had to go looking for her. Typically, she would just tell me to head to the ladies association and sit there and she would turn up at some point. There used to be a few days, when I had nothing interesting going on in college and I used to decide to walk back home, and on those days, I would usually go via the court and check the ladies association, to see if she had come for a break. Sometimes I was lucky and Mum would be waiting there; sometimes, I would spend more than an hour waiting for Mum. Mum’s colleagues knew me by face and invariably one of them would offer to inform her about my existence in the association. And I would just sit and wait there for her patiently. Mum’s court was at the ⅓ mark on our walk back home and I usually dropped in for a pit stop and then would continue onwards.

Usually, I had a book to read during these times and if I removed a book to read, then Mum’s colleagues would start a conversation, asking questions and trying to figure out what I wanted to do in my life. Normally, this would be a lot of fun and they would rush off toward the courtrooms to inform her if they saw her that I was waiting. The association and the courtrooms were situated in an old building near the main bus stop in my hometown. The ladies’ association had a very imposing-looking doorway. I don’t know if it was just me, or if they were genuinely so big, but two big 1.5-inch thick doors, engraved with an intricate floral design showcasing the carpenter’s creativity and finesse stood open like guards on either end of a 8-inch wide, 4-inch high threshold. At some point in my life, I lived in a house that had a traditional two-door main door, but the threshold there was less than 6 inches wide and it was barely 2 inches off the ground. The curtains (blackout curtains) to the windows in the room were always closed and there were always a couple of advocates asleep in the association at any part of the day. The ceiling fan was fixed to a beam 12 feet off the ground and always groaned and moaned as it slowly whirled around. The room always smelled musty and dank, with a faint scent of phenyl floating around occasionally. Every time someone stepped into this room, they would pause for a moment on the threshold, their fingers grazing the intricate designs, polishing them, gathering their bearings. The reason I even paid attention to this anomaly is that if you did not pause at the entrance, just past the threshold for a few minutes, then three steps in, you would stumble as your eyes had not yet acclimatized to the darkness and you missed the slight fold in the ancient red carpet on the floor. This happened quite often because every time I was there waiting for Mum to come back to the association, an advocate would step in, and while a few of them would wait and take the time to get used to the darkness, a few of them would confidently walk in only to stumble later and then curse to cover their embarrassment. After a couple of attempts at trying to read, I used to just give up and wait, watching through the door to see if Mum would show up.

When Mum did show up, I would hear her talking to the advocates and Notaries sitting outside en route to the association, everyone informing her that I had been waiting for quite some time. And her constant response, “Oh! I know. I will see her now.” As I heard her approach, I did not want to alarm Mum because I turned up suddenly at her workplace and would shove my books in my bag and then rush to the door, so she would not stumble through the threshold. Sometimes Mum would be exasperated because she had a really busy schedule and did not have the time to come back to the association, but sometimes, she would be happy for the distraction. She would get her purse out of her locker and we would head off to the Udupi Hotel next door either for a Dosa or a coffee. And I have sat in that association enough number of times to know that the threshold was a disaster waiting to happen.

And as luck would have it, I remember that day Mum left from home for work. Mum usually used the bus when she went to court and she would be back by around 5 pm; if she was not back at that time, then should finish her tuition session and then return at 7:30 pm. But that day, we were jumping into the pile of sand the neighbor had emptied next to our compound wall when an autorickshaw pulled up and Mum got out of the auto, with the driver popping out to help her with her bags. Realizing it was her, I quickly dusted off and ran to help get her bags and carried them up, while I hollered to the older siblings that Mum was limping up. Dad was at home that day and he rushed out to help her up the stairs. As soon as I reached up, I dropped her bags in her room and rushed back out so I would not miss the details and begged for answers. She winced every time she had to put her right foot down, as that was the one with the cast, but she told the story of her mishap with the dreaded threshold.

I was so impressed with that cast. I took every opportunity to peep into the gaps to see if I could see the injury until Mum got so irritated that she did not let me come near her foot. Later, when I joined the gym, I often saw my teammates sitting around on the steps, talking to the coaches with a cast around their injury. I never tried to get injured, but I’ve often wondered how it would be. I’ve always been curious about the human body and post-kids, I am amazed at everything that I experienced during childbirth. I haven’t had a cast, but I did have a tooth pulled out and the gums were left open to heal and close on their own. They qualify as surgery as the extraction was conducted under anesthesia and a part of me, was pulled out. The highlight was the partially swollen face on the side of the extraction but, the pain was intense. I survived the first couple of days on soups and juices biting on the cotton roll the doctor had given me hoping it would heal fast and I would be able to eat solid food soon. It took a week to heal but it’s as good as new and yet it’s not something I would recommend.