Apparently these false teeth hampered the free flow of black bile regurgitating out of her, so when I sat pinned down on order in front of mother listening aghast once again to yet another story embellished with her twisted lies, mother would put her fingers inside her mouth, grimace and katak, she would remove a set of false teeth and casually chuck it beside the sleeping cat on the side table. The cat’s fur would jam itself to wet teeth resulting in hairy teeth. Appalled, my hand would instinctively search for car keys to scoot out of the house where upon my fingers would touch something wet. Looking down I would see four teeth snarling up at me beside an ash tray. Screaming! Commotion! Indignation! I would flee out of her house with my own curly hair standing on end. Then one day on a visit, I picked a chakkli from a plate on the table to find yet another set of teeth menacingly lying in wait for me. I stopped visiting mother.
~ Extract from a story called Mother's Teeth