Blitzkrieg!
Before I say anything else, there’s some good news for the world.. there aint gonna be a sequel to the Poxy Chicks.. But that’s not the end of this post..
Just when I was anxiously nearing the feared 15 day period, without any trace of the pox, I met with an accident. It was a wet Thursday morning. Rain-washed, never been tarred roads of Bangalore. Having had a tougher than normal fight to suppress my usual early morning urge to flee the world, I had run late. All my dear roomies, barring S.T had left by the 7.30 am bus to work. S.T had a day off that day, and was snoring away to glory. Envying her, I made a dash, a slip, and a slither on the slush-worn streets to the bus stop.
Congratulating myself for keeping up my tradition of running late for a late bus, I settled down in my favorite corner in the last seat with a book and Radio City reverberating in my auditory canal. I was replying to a very heart warming good morning sms sent by a friend, when there was a sudden thrust forward, and a taste of cool metal in mouth. I was still struggling with my bag, book , radio and mobile, when a blood curdling howl brought it to my senses that there has been an accident. Quickly erasing my “thank u wish u the same” reply, I sent a frantic SOS to my friend. Not all of us were hurt, so going by my usual record of coming out unscathed out of any mishap, I forgot all about the burning sensation in my mouth, and was watching the fainting women being helped out of the bus. Its when I removed my dupatta from my mouth that I observed out a red dupatta goes better with my green salwar suit than a white one. Someone in the unhurt luckies had spotted another bus to work, and there was a mad rush to the exit, people examining the damage to their laptops, leaving their bloodied misshapen colleagues gape in shock and wonder at the resilience of humanity. The hurt ones had to help themselves, someone being sharp enough to spot a polyclinic on that sub-urban highway. Women, in particular, were throwing substantial tantrum to create panic even amongst the dazed, petrified ones like me. I messaged the bosses, and some of my roomies.
One woman, who had swooned at the sight of her own blood and fallen teeth, topped all decibel levels and ended up conjuring a wheeze out of thin air. All sorts of fraternity came to fore, lingual, official, and “she was sitting next to me in the bus” , and people wanted medical attention then and there, for their friends and commorades as well, leaving lonesome rangers like me in the lurch. There was one woman, who demanded that an X ray be taken in that rural hospital. While all of us had managed to hurt our jaw, this petite beauty had magically elongated her torso to hurt her neck. It was after all this that a Doctor got to see me and declared a torn upper lip and treated it with absorbent sutures, by which time through some extremely efficient piece of networking S.T had arrived like an angel in blue ( she was wearing a blue sweater) with my landlord at her heels. S.T being an ex-employee of our firm knew one of the hurt guys, and together they summoned the transport authorities who arrived promptly just to hush us all up about the absconding driver. We were taken to a “Bigger” hospital, our petite beauty and her “friends” clambering on to the ambulance as though it was a pleasure trip that we were going on.
My landlord and S.T took me in their car, following the ambulance. The emergency ward on the “Big” hospital was teeming with activity, with the Miss Petite making herself comfortable in one of the 4 beds. The company bearing the expenses, every specialist was summoned except the dentist. I complained of a slight pain in my leg, and Lo!, there appeared an orthopedic surgeon, who with the aid of a leg Xray , gave me a bandage, pain killers and an elaborate list of dos and donts. A CT scan was taken for all of us, even the ones who managed to get to office by the next bus, came back to get it done, just to be on the safer side, and ofcourse, it was all for free.. S.T was handling my calls, and my friends were asking for second by second updates.. Poor S.T.. I owe you a lot, mate.. My last sensible sentence was “ Whew, S.T, I ve got something for my blog!!”, after which my lip started assuming monstrous dimensions and making my speech sound as non-sensical as it actually is. We finally got to see a dentist, who examined me with all enthusiasm. He sent us off on a wild goose chase to get a “special” Xray done which wasn’t available in the “Big” hospital. Must thank my landlord here, if it wasn’t for him, we wud be haggling with the uncouth auto drivers, in the incessant rain.
Seeing ladies with missing teeth, I was thanking god for keeping mine in place.Atleast. That’s when the dear dentist had to drop it in dramatically “ Of all the victims of the accident..(Pause here for effect), you are the one who has …(pause again). Me and S.T had silently chorused in our minds “had a minor injury”, when the dentist completed his sentence with “had a pretty ugly blow”. He sent us off with a “Come again on Saturday”.
We were happy to leave, it was already 4.00pm and S.T had started whining. I felt delicate for having dragged along and spoiling her day off. But S.T is truly an angel in blue, she then realized that I hadn’t had any grub since morning and ran to get me a chocolate, which tasted like manna from heaven. We went home to be welcomed by a stark naked, stripped to the skin Babe. Before u have wild thoughts, I must add, that the Chick happens to be a slightly less than a year and half old, and my landlord’s baby gal. Absolutely stunned by my disfigured countenance ,magnified lips with a piece of suture sticking out, and a gauze bandage on my leg and the limp caused by it, Madam P (as she likes us to call her), didn’t follow me upstairs, hollering to be carried for the first time in her life.
Only when I went for lunch did I realize that I couldn’t put a morsel in without pain. Started eating grain by grain. Called up folks, let them know of the day’s adventures. Dad throwing a tantrum as usual, mom in tears. Filled up the other gals on the days events, not being able to cast my dazzling smile at their friendly banter, I developed a guttural sound, that could pass off as an ogre’s laughter. Talk of adopting to one’s handicaps..
Another day went by, in a similar fashion, the lip swelling further and the teeth growing painful, and some official calls. Didn’t know that F.P (the good morning sms frnd ) and A.I (not artificial intelligence, but a friend from college days) cancelled their tickets home to help me on Sat.
Saturday was fun. F.P and A.I bidding fiercely for the privilege of escorting Princess S, (yours truly, ofcourse!!) to the hospital. F.P won the bid, on a slight margin. But F.P couldn’t make eye contact, cos to meet the eye one had to see the face, and if u see the face u see the lip as well. Had lunch with F.P, ordered anything and everything that was gooey and mushy, and didn’t need much of chewing. Went to the dentist in the big hospital. Was treated with the rude shock that the company stopped financing the treatment. Still couldn’t bear the pain. The dentist appeared like Dr.Jekyll, metamorphosing into Mr.Hyde when he said that my teeth were dead and were already discoloring. Managed to scare me enough to agree to a rct on four teeth, when only 2 were hurting, charging 2 grand per tooth plus a 5 grand per tooth for the cap, besides 5 sittings, each costing 300 bucks. Paid him an advance for 2 teeth and scrammed out of the “Big” hospital swearing solemnly to God never to set foot in there again.
When the anesthesia wore out, the unnecessary drilling claimed its toll. Shooting pain that brought involuntary tears disturbed my sleep. Troubled a few friends and blew up a 100 bucks sms ing all night, narrating my tale of woe to all and sundry.
Called up Momma, and made her gossip to beat the pain. Gossip is a great medicine for gals. A grandma’s panacea, grapevine works better than red wine.
But, all time ticked, the pain aggravated, couldn’t even eat the mushy gooey hogwash that I was eating, S.T to the rescue again, got me juice from the next door shop. S.T and the other gals in the P.G, A.I and F.P pushed me to give up my ego and call pop.
Me succumbed to their push, called pop, ran to daddy’s arms, caught the Shatabdi, and landed in dear old Chennai, the very same night. Momma waiting with kanji and more gooey broth. Went to the family dentist, who, with all professional diplomacy gently put it that the rct for the other 2 teeth neednt have been done, with the swollen lip complicating all diagnosis.
Manager turned out to be mildly sweet for sometime, and granted leave till the end of the treatment. Collegues calling to inquire , phone bill shooting sky high on roaming. Friends in Chennai pouring in to see how I am, some cheering me up, some breaking into tears seeing my “beautiful” garishly misshapen.. ( I am entitled to literary exaggerations!!, at times..). Mom getting anxious over the ‘evil eye’ factor and heeding to all means of the occult to counter the same.
Looking at myself in the mirror and getting scared became an amusing past time, with swelling going down and the skin peeling. Scared my maid by chasing her with a piece of skin hanging from my lip, suture sticking out. Was grossly disappointed when it fell off in the middle of one such scaring session.
When I was ready to go back to Banglore, strategically timing it so that I can return for the Diwali hols, it rained cats and dogs flooding the IT capital of the country.. Friends and well wishers started calling again, thinking that I was in Bangalore, Phone bill tearing open the stratosphere, on roaming again. But I was overwhelmed at all the concern, moved to the brink of my stoic stance against anything sentimental. My train got cancelled. It was tough to get another ticket in short notice. Was secretly happy, inspite of exterior agitation.
When things got ok in Banglore, it started raining crows and buffaloes in Chennai. Trees falling, roads flooding, trains and flights cancelled again.
So here I am, celebrating Diwali, trying out cooking, burning my fingers and burning some food as well, Dishing out rock-hard gulab jamuns, hoping against hope that they get soft , succulent and even palatable if left undisturbed in the sugar syrup, guarding it with my life against my Dad’s gluttony. And wondering if that pain in the nose needs a nasal specialist.
P.S:
Amidst all this, I began to have bouts of philosophical thought, especially in the bathroom, when I found it difficult to brush or wash my face. However hard I tried to cry out loud to the Lord up above “Why me??” I couldn’t. It always came out as “Thank God, for all that has been left unhurt”. And ofcourse, got to realize that I am surrounded by more nice people than I thought.
Note:
All this happened a fortnight ago. I wanted to recollect, and structure my thoughts, the sequence of events, their implications before I could record them. I didn’t want to include too much detail, nor did I want to leave out anything that happened. Hope justice has been done on both accounts..
Naaahh… I was simply too lazy to write it all. As simple as that.
