Idly, dosa, vada, sambhur. South India has often been reduced to these staples, with our identities forced to be a mispronounced side dish. Stereotypical representation is not new for the Tamil audience as we are still trying to forget the atrocities of Chennai Express and 2 States. So when I heard about Venba, a video game highlighting South Indian cuisine (with a heavy focus on Tamil food), I knew I had to play it. I don’t play video games usually, but a narrative cooking game with a hint of appreciation for Tamil Nadu? I was interested. I downloaded the game expecting to learn the clichés, how to make dosas, and appreciate the beauty of “Madras” by romanticizing women going to temples in sarees with flowers; the paragon of nalla ponnu (good girl).
The game boots up with a quote from Thiruvalluar panning out to a calendar from Muthu Travels honoring this Mahakavi. I judged too soon; this game captured the very essence of being Tamil - respecting Thiruvalluar and using the free calendars from GRT Jewellers. The game follows the story of an immigrant Tamil family living in Canada in the 1980s. We play as Venba, a woman faced with the guilt of every sick wife: do I rest or strain myself to make idlis for my inept husband? (We later learn that Venba was pregnant). The game addresses the dilemma of raising your child in your own country or seizing the opportunity of the “foreign” to provide a better life for your child.
However, I wanted to highlight one interesting character, Kavin: he is Venba’s son. He grew up in Canada and tried his best to fit in. “Kevin” (another attempt to fit in) was not interested in learning about his cultural heritage or speaking in Tamil. Venba often felt disconnected from Kavin as he would speak in English, and she could barely understand him, something the developers made clear with the blurry speech bubbles. She would bond with Kevin the only way Indian mothers know how: through food. She would teach him -and us- how to make puttu, a popular dish from Kerala that resembles a launching rocket. Kavin represents the second generation of immigrants who often find themselves in the middle of two cultures with no one accepting them as their own. Venba uses her mother’s old cookbook to restore old dishes, clutching onto traditions from her culture in an attempt to pass them on to her son. The video game explores how Kavin ultimately finds his mother’s old recipes and learns about his heritage without losing his sense of adopted Canadian identity.
Many NRIs, like Kavin, take pride in trying to learn their cultural history and are often shamed by natives for their broken Tamil and Aquafina water bottles. We make fun of their Na-mah-stes and their SPF 50+ while we keep adopting their Western culture. They use coconut oil and aloe vera, while we switched to extra virgin olive oil and cocoa butter. This mix-and-match of traditions lead to a loss of self and the creation of a null identity. Companies exploit this by repackaging ashwagandha, marketing it as a super supplement, and targeting the same wannabe-NRI Indian audience who is out of touch with their identity in their own country. The West tries to adopt South-Asian practices while the South-Asian population westernizes itself to form this pseudo-cultural meld, leading to a complete loss of self and identity.
As we move towards a more modern, “civilized” society, we lose a lot of the history and nuances of our culture. Our thick, creamy, full-fat milk becomes 2% almond soy “milque”. While this does introduce more perspectives to the global stage, the uniqueness becomes a blended mess of shoddy representation. Like Venba, we must familiarise the younger generation with their historical lineage. Soon, my kezhvaragu kanji and haldi doodh will die with me as the future generations eat their quinoa bowls and drink turmeric milk. P.C. - https://images.app.goo.gl/LLzG1LPTND4FNFHe7
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