Back to tutoring again, and I’m sitting in the back of a classroom, with three bright, albeit rambunctious, teenage boys. I am attempting some semblance of a work period, each student semi-working on whatever subject he pulled out of his backpack that day. An older man who tutors at Tulsi Kunj comes running in, and I catch the words “bunder” and “bahar” coming out of his mouth, along with a river of excitedly spoken Hindi I don’t understand. It’s as if he has transformed into his younger teenage self, eager to invite my students to come gawk at the monkeys outside the building. I’m totally shocked by this abrupt shift in personality; he’s the “Sir” you don’t mess with in TK—kids can’t get away with anything in his class.
Anyway, my students go out, stare, laugh, and throw a couple things near the monkey until my maternal instinct kicks in and I insist they cease and desist. Reluctantly, they come back to the classroom; however, the monkeys remain a source of entertainment. The following dialogue occurs:
Abhishek (to Rajesh, pointing to the monkey outside): That’s your mother. (Cue explosion of laughter).
Rajesh: No, it is your sister. (Second explosion).
Sumit (to both): No, it is your cousin. (Third, extended explosion).
I already knew some things crossed cultures: smiles, love, laughter. I am pleased to add Yo Mama jokes to that list.
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