Horror stories of receiving health treatment in India means that the experience is not on most travellers’ bucket lists, but Melanie Vella relates the crowning glory of her unavoidable visit to a rural dentist.

Betel nuts, leaves and spices can be bought from street vendors for 10 cents a pop.

Initially, the slight pain at the back of my mouth was bearable, only striking when I dug into a bowl of ice cream or was hiking up a mountain and cold winds picked up.

It was the kind of toothache most people ignore during everyday routine, even more so while travelling in an Asian country with its unfamiliar health care system and hygiene standards.

For weeks, I ignored the pain and inevitably it worsened, until while munching on my morning muesli after a sweaty yoga class in Rishikesh, a small mountainside town in north India, the pain turned from bearable to excruciating.

My boyfriend Derek asked the waiter where we could find a reliable dentist in the little local town.

“No tourist tooth doctor here, my friend, you must go to old town Rishikesh,” he explained in a heavy accent.

We rode a rickshaw for 90 minutes and found the dentist’s door in the middle of a very typical Indian village.

I looked through the window and all seemed in order. The front room looked fairly clean, had a sign to a waiting room and certificates of qualification on the door.

My not-so in-depth analysis had to suffice.

As Derek and I sat in the waiting room, the life-sized pictures plastered on the walls tormented me.

They were ‘before’ and ‘after’ posters supposedly posed as testaments to the dentist’s work and advertised procedures such as screwing in false teeth instead of metal screws.

I could almost smell the bad breath. Oral hygiene is low in these parts of India. There’s a common habit of chewing on supari, better known as paan which is a concoction of betel leaves, areca nut, slaked lime paste and masala spices like cinnamon, sandalwood, cardamom and sugar, often combined with tobacco.

The effects of betel nut on the teeth.

It acts like a stimulant, much like caffeine or tobacco. The paan, with all added ingredients, can produce subtle effects such as aiding digestion, improving concentration, heightening alertness, reducing hunger or lifting the mood.

Apparently, even dentists barter in India

It’s no wonder paan is a popular accessory from a young age, especially while working in the hot Indian climate.

Many Indians have red-stained teeth as a result. The abrasive nature of the nut and sugars may cause tooth decay, fractures, bleeding gums, loose teeth and forms of oral cancer.

They suffer from other severe problems because of irregular dental hygiene care.

The dentist, Dr Gupta, came out to greet me in Hindi; evidently he didn’t speak English. This, I decided, was a clear sign that foreign travellers were not regular patients here.

However, his young assistant Mirla translated and promised to take care of me with a comforting smile.

The main reason for not dealing with my tooth problem was my dislike of dentists and needles. This was my first visit for anything other than a routine check-up and cleaning, so the drama was amplified.

I was ushered into an old-school blue chair covered in yellowing plastic. The tool tray had traces of brownish-red splashes, which my imagination allowed me to believe was dried blood, but turned out to be iodine antiseptic.

When Dr Gupta probed my tooth, I squealed with pain and it was hastily concluded I needed a dental crown and several other fillings. Mirla translated that it would take 10 days to fit the crown and I would have to return every day.

This information was subdued by the news that the whole procedure would cost €49, which is substantially cheaper than in Malta.

Mirla discreetly nudged me to ask Dr Gupta for a discount. Apparently, even dentists barter in India.

However, since Dr Gupta would be drilling into my mouth, I wasn’t willing to bargain.

The next morning Derek and I made the 90-minute rickshaw ride into Rishikesh town to get started.

Back in the blue chair, Mirla cooed at me to distract me, while Derek held my hand in undisguised disbelief that his girlfriend, a supposedly brave traveller backpacking around Asia on her own for a long time, was so scared of a dentist.

I sat through the first day cringing and shifting in the chair, but my brave face grew sturdier. The pain was minimal. I returned to Dr Gupta’s clinic for the next nine days to be probed, checked, spit, gargle, drill, file, clean, shape the tooth, check for fitting and finally stick in my ceramic tooth.

By the end of the 10-day ordeal, I looked at my shiny new tooth and decided on an encore.

I took advantage of the relatively cheap dental care and had my additional four fillings done, without using anaesthetic.

Bravery award, please!