“You have to be friendly to make friends,” she announced as she pressed her pointed finger against the glass. “So why don’t you go outside and play with that boy?”
A friendship was born. Fate brought Bharathi and his family out of South India and into the Twin Oaks apartment complex in Lafayette, Louisiana. His father knew a fair amount of English and took the time to practice the language with his son. We spent every waking day together and more often than not got into some kind of mischief. (One time we used my watercolor-paint set to decorate the neighbors front doors.) When we turned four, Bharathi’s mother came to be my weekday sitter. Unlike her husband, Mrs. Ponita had never studied English and had to pick up the language day-to-day. Many times my bosom buddy served as a translator for his mother. As a little kid, I remember listening to Bharathi and Mrs. Ponita converse in their native tongue of Tamil and feeling jealous.
What are they saying? Why can’t I understand them? I want to learn speak like them too.
