It Happened One Evening At A Coffee Shop

I admit it. I am one of those people. I am one of those people who adores coffee shops. My love affair with these cozy little spaces which smell of warm coffee and harbour romance and writers and dreamers, spans a timeframe that can rival my love for books or my obsession for doing strange and mostly unattractive things to my hair. One of my favourite things to do is to find a cozy corner, get settled in and then lose time and myself in a book. Just the thought of this relaxes me. The actual event itself, the right coffee shop with the right mood with just the right combination of coffee bean aroma juxtaposed with just the perfect view (and in a perfect world, just the right smattering of intelligence and good looks within these glass enclosed walls), is unadulterated nirvana. And the funny thing is that I actually do not drink much tea or coffee at home. People close to me have correctly stated that i only drink coffee if I have to pay upwards of Rs. 75 for it!

And thus a cool evening not too long time ago, I was cocooned in my neighbourhood coffee shop, completely immersed in a great book, The Post-Birthday World by Lionel Shriver. I was supposed to meet a friend at 7 :30 for drinks and dinner and had thus discarded my regular uniform of a pair of jeans and a top, for a slightly more jazzed up fashionable...well...pair of jeans and a shiny slinky top. I was looking forward to some time alone before what promised to be a long, loud and fun filled evening. I seated myself, smiled at the two women at the table in front of me and opened my book. A few moments later, a guy walked in. In a coffee shop with eight empty tables, how was it that he found it fit to come and sit at a table 5 inches from where I was. Darn. But I thought nothing more of him until three minutes later when he leaned over to my table and asked me a question. I looked up rather blankly, to see a pair of huge brown eyes, a close buzz cut and a delicate face with a very very nice smile (this dentist approved of it at any rate). Now let me state just for the record, I have sat alone in coffee shops all over the world, China, US, UK, Thailand, and yet have actually had very few guys try to start a conversation with me, and no I am not talking about the gay guys who flirt with me as a cover when they come in with their mothers or the geriatrics who need help with their trays and who then thank me by telling me all about their grandchildren. But very rarely (I can count the instances on one hand...er...actually on 4 fingers) has someone spoken to me without asking me to pick up their paper napkin or if the chair next to me is available or something equally as unexciting.

Did you say something, I asked him with an expression of mild curiosity on my face (all faked, I was actually terribly curious. Maybe he was going to tell me I dropped my wallet).

The two women sitting in front of me were all of a sudden taking interest in what was transpiring here. So embarrasing for a insanely private person like me.

Can I see the book, he said. I gave him the book and looked away, just a little irritated. I mean couldn't he tell that my sole intention in sitting here was to read and what was the point if someone was going to borrow the book for a while, and leave me to ineffectively twiddle my thumbs. So I did the next best thing one does when one has nothing to do. I started messaging my friend to see if she was running on time. He held on to the book long enough for me to suspect that he was actually reading the back cover and the first chapter. It was either that or that he had pocketed the book and left the scene of the crime. But when I looked back at him, he was miraculously still there, still reading with a slight smile on his face (doctored, I suspect).


So who do you think lies more, men or women - he asks. I am blown away. For one, the question perfectly pertains to the book and how the hell had he figured it out by reading just the back cover. For two, what a brilliantly open ended question. He had already guaranteed himself an hour of conversation. Much as I tried to resist the temptation to answer, I could already see the words forming in my mind.

I think men lie more, I said. I refused to elaborate since I was still trying to not have this conversation.

I think women lie more, they just do it better, he said all the while smiling at me with those gorgeous gorgeous teeth.

So how's the book, he asked. Now I have never seen such empathy and eloquence in ones eyes when enquiring about a book. It was more appropriate for perhaps a question like - will he live?

And as I proceeded to talk about the book, he proceeded to move over to my table, much to my surprise and much to the entertainment of the two women behind me who had given up all pretense of having a conversation in favour of staring owl eyed at us. I'm guessing action in front of their eyes sure beat gossip behind someone else's back.


This, I told myself, was to make up for the fact that no one ever came up to me otherwise. Some force greater than myself was ensuring that I was now getting it in double doses.

So what do you do, he asked me.

I am a dentist, I said suddenly conscious that he'd wonder what kind of a dentist I was if I was sitting at a coffee shop at 6:30 in the evening. The lucky kind, I decided.

Oh great, he said, I need help with my teeth. Again he flashed me that perfect smile.

I seriously doubt it, I said grinning back.


We spoke about all the things people talk about when they first meet. Music, hobbies, friends, food. My book was long forgotten, which was so shocking to me since I usually open the book even before I sit. But I had forgotten that the one thing I liked even more than a great book is a fun conversation.

We discussed clubs. He told me that every time he went to a popular club he had the Chinese Box there.

What is that? Is that a game? I asked him, to which he laughed and laughed and joyfully patted my hand like I was the most endearing thing he had seen in a long time.

It's a platter that has all kinds of Chinese food on it, he educated me. He was learning more things about me than most people knew. For example he now knew that I had no taste for fine dining.


And we talked some more and laughed a lot. The two women behind us were staring at us with huge smiles as if they had personally played a role in boy meets girl. I looked at them and felt a little foolish. It was so obvious that he was flirting for all he was worth, in front of ten filled tables, approximately thirty curious people, without a care in the world. Why wasn't I telling him to bugger off? To be honest, I was more busy waiting for him to ask if I had someone special, just so that I could see his reaction when I told him I was married and had a child who had thrown up on me that morning. Or maybe I would fabricate twins. I was dying to see how he would extricate himself from a hopeless situation. Would he slink back to his table, tail between his legs? Would he get up and leave? Or would he change tracks and stop flirting so charmingly? But no, we spoke of everything but THAT.


A large chunk of our conversation revolved around him guessing my age. He started from 20, God bless him. I did give him a huge hint by telling him I was almost old enough to be his mother (did I ever tell you he looked young? Polished and well spoken and young. Could not have been more than 24 even if I added a few years to his age). He grinned back and said his mother was most definitely not 25. He added all the many years of my professional education (8) and then looked confused because that would make me much older than what he thought. I had half a mind to put him out of his misery, but this was way too much fun.

He asked for my number.

For your teeth? I asked him

Ofcourse. Whatever did you think, he grinned back.

And just like that I gave him my number. To all of you who think that it is really foolish of me to give out my number, I am DOCTOR, you people!. Everyone and their mothers have my number. Complete strangers have my number. About 200 dental companies have my number. My business board has my number. My website has my number. One more person would hardly make a difference. And so I gave him my business card with name, address, number, email and website, as I have to so many hundreds of people. I could see victory in the two women's eyes - Guy got Girl - they were thinking. Hardly, I wanted to tell them. It was more - Guy got Dentist's Number. Or Dentist got Patient, if he was really persistent and I was really lucky!!


He paid for my coffee. I tried to stop him but it seemed to involve too much of touching his arm and hand and torso and was only going to give him more pleasure than I wanted to. And so I did what the very rich do. I graciously allowed him to pay. I was only wishing I had had the foresight to order the special coffee with the hazelnuts and icecream. He said I could pay next time. I told him there would be no next time. He still paid (would have been rather awkward for him to wriggle out now). And then walked me to an auto outside. The two women probably though we were leaving together and I could literally see them judging the youth of today while secretly giving me the thumbs up.


As I walked into the restaurant where I was to meet my friend ten minutes later, I got a message from him.

'You are the sweetest thing ever'

Wow, with a line like that I now know for sure that he was probably not a day over 18! But hey, it's not everyday that I get to be called 'the sweetest thing'. And that is ageless. And so much fun.

Flush-Wordy

Some days there's a whole lot to say

And words trip over each other

Erupting out in a gush

Other days like today

Words are silent with decay

Like water stuck in an ancient rusted flush

Doctor, My Pain Has Subsidized And Other Tales From The Chair. Vol 2

Dentistry is no laughing matter. Coming to the dentist is often a sombre occasion - there's nothing funny to be found in between a root canal and 3-inch thick tartar, no matter how deep you dig. It's all serious business of pain relief, more efficient chewing, better smiles and greater confidence (well there you have it, my 25 second elevator speech on how I help humanity. How many of you can say the same, ha? ha?? Let's not get into a discussion right now on how many of you actually WANT to say these things, especially the chewing part.... ). But if you think that dentistry makes for a boring day, I am happy to report that the biggest laughs and faux paus come from the patients themselves...in house entertainment to rival any prime time sitcom. Let me clarify, it's not that I laugh at patients, but what can I do when Mrs. Vaswani tells me that her pain has subsidized! I look at her in earnest and want to ask her how much her pain costs now with the subsidy.



Sometime the fun is in the topic of discussion. For example I spend about thirty minutes explaining to Mr. Reston that teeth move. And for most of that time, he looks at me strangely, a little doubtfully. I can see him wondering if the dentist has been drinking.

What do you mean, he say for the fifth time, looking at me from the corner of his eye.

I try to look as professional as possible as I say this - Well if there is an empty space near a tooth, it will tend to move into that space. Or if I shape a tooth for a crown and the crown is not fixed in time, the tooth can move in any direction and the crown will no longer fit.

He looks increasingly uncomfortable with this information and says, you tellin' me my teeth are moving? Will I'm tellin' you that they're not.

I explain to him that the teeth do not develop legs and start walking. Teeth drift. They drift very slowly. But drifting is moving.

He summarises - So what you're saying is that some day soon my teeth will 'drift' into my gullet or glide into my palate. What a load of bullock.

I look at his red face flushed with the beginning of anger, his stubborn tone, his hair standing on edge and I do the only thing that a self respecting doctor can do when faced with an excessively argumentative patient - I change the topic and ask him if his bad breath problem is solved.





Or take for instance the matter of repairing a broken tooth. Sometimes teeth break in such a way that they cannot be repaired. And the last time I looked, a dentist was not God. Abhay is one of my favourite patients. He's relaxed on the chair (he falls asleep during treatment on a regular basis), he trusts my treatment and judgement and this helps me treat him to the best of my capabilities. Yet, early Monday morning he walks in carefully cradling I piece of tissue in his palm. I know of his long term relationship with a girl and for a second think that he is going to show me some jewellery that he has bought for her. At the back of my mind, a small voice is asking why he would be carrying said piece of jewellery in a tissue in his palm. He unveils the tissue to expose a crown of the non-jewelled kind.


The top of my tooth just cracked off, he says.


I look at it and yes, he has in his hand the entire crown of his molar. I peek into his mouth and see just an empty space where the molar should be. An xray reveals a tooth broken beyond hope. And yet, Abhay is as hopeful as ever.


We can stick it back right, he asks


No we cant, I say.


Can't we just glue it back on, he says. And then for my benefit he adds - Superglue? Fevikwik?? Fevicol??? Kwikfix???? I wonder at his familiarity with various glue materials.


This is not a cocktail stirrer. It cannot be 'glued' back, I say.


How about if we keep it in place with a rubber band which bands it to the next tooth, he asks.


Wont work, I tell him honestly.


Ok, he says, what about if we drill a hole in the root and screwed this top back onto the root, he asks.

It's not like a screw on your washing machine fell off, I tell him, feeling the need to put things into perspective.

But perseverance is Abhay's middle name.

The last thing he said to me before we both burst out laughing is - Lets take the root out too. Then we can weld the crown back to the root and it can be placed right back into my gum.

I do know this - if I ever decide to do research in how to fix a badly broken tooth, Abhay is the first person I'll call.


And sometimes you just cannot help but laugh at the silliness. Arjun is a well known model and has been a patient for the past several months. We're just about to start his treatment when his phone rings. He picks it up and tells the person on the line - I can't talk now. I am in the middle of a shoot!!


A dentist has a tough job. We occasionally have to deal with paranoid partners, as in the case of Nikhil and his girlfriend. Nikhil is getting a smile makeover. It involves veneers, crowns, teeth whitening and many hours on my chair. After the third day of treatment, he tells me that his girlfriend is getting mad at him because he seems to be spending so much time with me.

As if on cue, his girlfriend (whom I have never met before) barges into my operating room and says - Anytime I ask him where he is, he says he's at the dentist.

I look at her benevolently and start to explain how this is a long procedure with no short cuts, but she is on a roll and I cannot get a word in edgewise. When I stop talking, I realise that she is saying - He's with you at nine in the morning, at two in the afternoon, at eleven in the night.

I tell her, he maybe with me at nine in the morning and at two in the afternoon, but I have no idea who he is with at eleven in the night and it sure as hell aint me.

Nikhil responds intelligently by burying his face into his hands....


Most recently, it was Mr Lall who was getting a root canal done. I had placed a temporary filling in his tooth (the temporary filling is a bit rubbery). He calls me later to say that the 'bubblegum' that I had placed in his mouth was getting loose and should be take it out and throw it or could he chew on it for a while!!!

I rest my case.

Happy smiling everyone.