It is said that wise men speak less. But as a wisdom tooth, I am making an exception. And I’m not just speaking for me but for the countless wisdom teeth that have suffered before me and the countless others that will suffer a similar fate till the end of time. This is our collective story. Sorry, our collective obituary. The beginning of the end For the past few days, my master has been holding his jaw ever so often. You know that vague sense of unease when something is about to happen but you don’t know what that is? The mouthwash tastes different, antiseptic like. Of course, I can’t be the problem. I am ensconced somewhere in the corner of the mouth and am near non-existent. I can’t help but feel like the quiet backbencher who always gets caught for something they never did. Wrong place, wrong time, every time. I have often wondered if there is a heaven for wisdom teeth. I am told of a place called the rainbow bridge where pets go after they die and dutifully w...