Life in a Dentist's Chair

It happened first when we were in the US...I sat in a dentist's chair when Bush Sr. was the president and pitted against Bill Clinton in the presidential race for a second term in office. While I sat there in nervous dread, pain, the dentist- a die hard republican- spewed forth a non-stop commentary on his right wing philosophy, moral justification of war on Iraq, and the infestation of California by illegal migrants from Mexico. I had searing responses, liberal opposing arguments, scathing criticisms for his weak, narrow minded intellect-but, only in my head. I smiled weakly, nodded docile assents to this ass, and agreed to all his recommendations for participating in the great American dream--after all, I was there for a root canal, and he held a drill.

Since then, there have been sufficient occasions where prudence has won over honesty, and self preservation over self-expression, each reminding me of the first occasion, where I learnt this lesson-yet the pill has been bitter, hard to swallow, a realisation of cowardice in face of prejudice, hate, bigotry, and truth thus compromised, died.