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The obituary of a wisdom tooth




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 wait for their masters to join them. Imagine a place like that for all the wisdom teeth in the world. Whether they want to be reunited with their masters is something to chew on.

The Execution

It happens without much warning. There is no waiting for the governor’s pardon, no last minute pleas, no heartfelt thank yous. My master opens his mouth and instead of seeing the usual stuffing of some cholesterol laden snack, I see a pair of eyes prying. I stare back, giving my meanest look. It isn’t menacing enough as the next moment, I’m tapped by an instrument.  I wince and then the sentence is pronounced –‘shall I extract it?’ The ungrateful wretch nods like the moron that I always knew he was. This is it. If I had known, I would have at least come prepared with a last lecture worthy of a TED Talk.

There is no time for long winded goodbyes. I see a tear roll down second molar, my best buddy since childhood. Though central incisor and myself have shared a few laughs, we weren't that close to be called buddies. My thoughts are interrupted by a ghastly sight. I see a syringe; in other words, a lethal injection by my standards.

Remember the movie Dead Man Walking, where everyone is sobbing profusely as they say goodbyes to the condemned prisoner?  Like they say, it happens only in the movies. I’m no hardened criminal (hardened maybe), but I’m treated like one.

The needle makes contact with the inner lining. I watch as my master endures the pain and just for a moment, I feel sorry for the fellow. Then, an instrument that looks straight out of a Transistors movie clasps me. I’m held by the scruff of my neck and yanked hard. I lose my bearings a little and wobble. If you’re wondering if your entire life passes you by before you die, I am here to assure you that it does. But it doesn't happen in a moment, that much I can tell you. If you are walking and a piece of frozen food hit you on the head, you really don’t have time to have your entire life pass you by. On the other hand, in torturous deaths like mine where you can see yourself being executed, you have time to think about a lot of stuff and even replay some of it.

The drilling stops. Maybe I am a tough nut to crack after all. Just as waves of optimism are beginning to wash over me, I am again shaken. This time the sense of finality is unmistakable. In the movies, even after the villain is broken, beaten and scarred, the hero lands a final and defining blow, what I call the point of no return blow. That’s what I’m being subject to.

I lose consciousness as I am slowly hacked up and split into a million pieces. As I fade out of consciousness, I remember only one question that I have been asking myself ever since my mortality became apparent - if there is a god, why did he, in all his wisdom, create wisdom teeth?

Condolences

The wisdom tooth passed away extremely painfully while it was wide awake, surrounded by close friends and relatives.

It is sorely missed.



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