DCBAs ---> (Highly confused ABCDs)

A recent visit to one of my relative’s place gave a very clear picture of the life of ABCD iyers in USA.
The erudition began with me getting invited to a pooja in one of my (many) uncle’s house, which not surprisingly were weighted down by a bouquet ABCD cousins. One of the many reasons for the pooja was to enlighten and delineate those ABCDs with Indian culture and conventions.
As with many Indian habitual delays, the pooja scheduled for 6:00pm was deferred by an hour. The crowd was yet to gather. I had gone 5 hours early for the pooja, as I had craved for home food and this was a perfect opportunity to foray. This also provided a fabulous inspiration to write this.
The multitude of people expected was an enigma, for I came to know about the dude who claimed to share an avuncular relationship with me, just a month ago. But that is a different story. But the surprising factor was the pattern of the crowd. The first to arrive was the typical ‘athimber’ of the family. I think ‘athimbers’ have an inherent property, where in, during the passage of time, the members of the family actually forget how this ‘athimber’ is related. And so, this athimber fellow, with the white veshti and nice white, streamlined pattai, walked in first. Then a hustle of mamas joined after a while, with a flock of sugar-high ABCD kids.
The female part of the family (which included Mamis, Athais, and paatis) also joined.( I don’t know why, but most female members, whose sons or husbands are in USA, have this smug look in their face) So, all these members with smug faces went back and forth from the kitchen to the pooja room, while taking with them the pooja utensils.
The whole, expected crowd had assembled and it was time. Again, as typical it is, the male members of the family gathered in the hall and the conversation, as it often happens, was started by the athimber.
This is the gist of the (usual) conversation:
… “India urupadaadhu…mmmm…never, I say”
… “Football match paatthiyo?.. Whatever it is , Zidane shouldn’t have done that, I say”
… “ yemma, pooja saaman ellaam ready-o?”
… “athimber….”
… “…. India urupadaadhu, I say ”
… “andhagaalathula, naan school padikumpodhu…. Etc etc .. I say”
… “T.M.S maadhiri.. TMS da.. T.M.Soundharaajan, maadhiri ippo yaarume paadaradhu illa, I say”
… “Sehwag should retire, what do you say?”

And so on and so forth. While this is intellectual one-man conversation is going on, the ABCDs (with some inane fancy Tamil names, which even they can’t pronounce), who are entirely unaware of what their ‘athimber’ is sprawling about, continue to have their own conversations, in Americanized English, punctuated by highly Americanized Tamil, among themselves, which are as follows:
… “Hey Nidhi (short for Nivedhita) , when aaare you going to Eeendia?”
… “That guy is such a bore , you know?”
… “So, then, I started to ask my Atthai for some sweets, you know, when she…., you know…. Gave that stare, you know….”
… “I really, you know, hope they start the poooojha real quick, you know, I am, you know, starving”
… “ that guy looks kinda cute “
… “You know, I think, I should help myself with those ‘baaakshanaams’, you know”

And so on and so forth.

And then, at last the much anticipated event occurred. The pooja (pronounced as Poooojha, poojai, puja, poja, pooja etc). The uncle (by this time, all were introduced to me as mama, (for male) and mami (for female)) in charge of heading the pooja sat in a hearth rug, with Winnie the pooh printed on it, in front of an assortment of Gods. The ABCDs, had all, by now dressed neatly and after much glaring and cajoling, wore Indian traditional clothes.
My uncle, who had stopped uttering Sanskrit words the moment he left India (which was roughly 12 years ago), suddenly realized that he didn’t know even one Sloka, by heart. Thus, began the massacre of the ancient language. (No wonder, people call it the dead language). The Gods, being extremely benevolent, would have forgiven any abuses heaped on them in Sanskrit. While the butchery was going on, the ABCDs and their corresponding blood relations were immersed in deep devotion. They had compellingly closed their eyes shut and held their palms closed. (I initially thought they were trying very hard to resist their temptation to eat one of the sweets kept as prasadam). All the while, one of the mamis was wielding a digital camera and complacently talking snaps of her daughter (immersed in devotion), her husband (immersed in a confused devotion) and her 2nd daughter (immersed in confusion).
When the time for singing came, it was the time for the richly deserved, proud ABCDs, to slaughter Tamil songs. I was extremely happy that the likes of Subramanya Bharathi and BharthiDasan had gone to visit the crowd invisible, for if they had chanced upon these ABCD version of their songs, they would have instantly become ex-poets.

After almost, a windingly long ½ hours, the pooja ended (Victory was ours!) and like magic the ABCDs changed their costumes and again like magic the food also vanished.
Thus ended an eventful day in the life of the ABCDs.