Skip to main content

Of Tooth Fairies and Sparrows

“They travel at night and collect teeth. In the morning they set to work and fashion those teeth into gleaming white pearls and make necklaces. In the evening they get dressed, wear tooth pearl necklaces, and dance. And they sing, ‘we are happy, we are pretty’,” I tell Omar when he asks me about tooth fairies.

“And they give gifts to children?” he asks.

“Yes, they like to do honest business. So they barter gifts for teeth.”

Omar seems indecisive about something. But after a while, he shows me his key ring and a wallet with brand new notes. “Look, what the tooth fairy gave me last night.”

I am excited about Omar’s newfound riches and tell him so. After all, this comes as a replacement for his seven-year-old tooth. A long-held treasure.

Something is still bothering Omar. And he asks me, “Do you actually believe in tooth fairies? I think Amma put these gifts under my pillow when I was sleeping.”

Omar is facing an existential moment.

“Of course, I believe in fairies, all kinds of fairies. Why would Amma wake up in the middle of the night to do so, she could have given you these gifts in the morning,” I am in my defense- counsel-for-fairies mode.

Now Roshan joins the conversation. He is also a beneficiary of tooth fairies’ largesse. “I got a big teddy bear. The shops are closed at midnight, and I didn’t see my mother going to the market in the morning to buy a teddy bear.  I think there are tooth fairies,” Roshan seems to be reassuring himself.

Omar is not entirely convinced. “Dado, were there tooth fairies when you lost your teeth at seven,” Omar asks grandma. He is now looking for historical, empirical evidence for tooth fairies’ existence.  

“We used to give our teeth to sparrows. We would chant ‘Sparrow, sparrow, take our old tooth and give us a brand new one’,” Dado reminisces.

“At that time in history, tooth fairies weren’t mobile. So they asked sparrows to collect teeth for them. I believe, the fairies paid those sparrows handsomely,” I am a loyal counsel.

If I want my tooth back, will the fairy give it back?” Omar asks.

“No, I don’t think so. It has already been turned into a pearl,” my loyalty knows no bounds.

“What kind of a fairy is she if she can’t return my tooth?”

Omar and Roshan look at each other meaningfully.


 Ah! The real world. The world where tooth fairies don’t exist but dentists do. The world of skepticism, doubts, disillusionment, and questions with no answers. What a momentous transition. We do need tooth fairies to mark the moment, to make it easier. Maybe, a dollop of enchantment will stay on. 

Yes, I believe in tooth fairies; and I  believe there were sparrows who used to run errands for fairies.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How Selfishia got Rid of Her Feathery Moustache

Selfihsia the selfish hen was unhappy. And understandably so. After all, having a feathery moustache is not the same thing as having a new hairdo or a brand new dress from a well-known boutique. She couldn’t flaunt it.     It didn’t make her feel beautiful. It didn’t even make her feel like an ordinary hen with a few feathers missing. She felt feathery at the wrong places and this made her sad. One day when she was crying and looking at her reflection in the puddle of water near the grapefruit tree, Kayseria strutted toward her. “Selfhisha, I have clucked at the thought and have finally come up with a solution,” she said. All the hens had been thinking about Selfishia’s moustache for a while now. There had been five meetings under the grape fruit tree to get Selfishia out of her predicament. “Really!” Selfisha clucked loudly with hope. Hearing Selfishia’s loud cluck the others came trotting and gathered around her. When the cluck cluck of excitement settled
7 comments
Read more

Napoleon and His Family in the Land of Lilliputians

As Napoleon the rooster traveled in the white Suzuki pickup van that was taking him to the Land of Lilliputians, he wondered. Yesterday, he along with the five hens who now cackled in the van were put in a separate basket.  They were sold to the Lilliputians. Napoleon looked at the five hens who were now under his guardianship. “What a diversified lot,” he thought. Somebody cackled in soft purring tones. He knew it must be Chandni , the eldest, the prettiest of the hens. She was snowy white with black dots.  Yes, there she was, sitting snugly near the window; oblivious to the world around her except the warm egg which she had just laid. Chandni was good at it: laying eggs day after day. “The ever maternal Chandni,” thought Napoleon and smiled indulgently at her. However, at times it irritated him that Chandi treated her eggs as if they merited a pride of performance award. “As if this is the only act of creativity in the world! But then this is a hen’s lot. W
8 comments
Read more

Martian in the Land of Lilliputians

“Are you really from Mars?” Saif asks me in his usual pitch of voice: loud. He apparently presumes I am sitting on the ceiling fan.  “Saif, I am near. I can even hear you whisper. Yes, I am from Mars.” Saif tries to lower his voice a notch. He doesn’t succeed.  “No, you are not. You make up stories, and you don’t understand the language of birds and animals. You have made up also those stories about Selfishia and Kayseria.” “Saif, first you doubt my Martian antecedents and then you challenge my communication abilities. Okay, if you don’t want to believe it, don’t,” I say with Martian nonchalance. “But why do you say so? Okay, now that the Curiosity Rover has landed on Mars will you go back?” “I don’t need any curiosity rover. I can go there on my own volition, just by snapping my fingers and closing my eyes.” Martian nonchalance helps to make your point. “I know this can’t be true. You are not from Mars,” Saif asserts his nine years old adult-hood.
6 comments
Read more