Playing Venba or how I learned to stop worrying and love my culture
One thing I’ve learnt in my 21 years living in the UK is that British people will do anything in their power to get a piece of metal between them and their food.
One time in my late teens, my friends and I engaged in the classic British pastime of ordering from a curry house. If you’re a vegetarian South Asian living in a predominantly white area you will know the struggles of getting half decent Indian food, so I naturally played it safe and ordered channa masala and a side of rice. Instinctively I dove in, eating the food with my hands, as I have done with Indian food hundreds of times before. It was then one of my friends interrupted with their disdain. Not wanting to upset anyone I acquiesced and finished my meal with a spoon.
Of course I’m not surprised by their reaction now, nor was I then; eating with your hands is outside the norm here. But it was emblematic of a struggle I had throughout my childhood right up until my early adult years. Finding a balance between assimilation into a culture and ensuring your culture and roots are still an important part of your identity.
I’m sure any immigrant would respond with a resounding “well duh” but it’s something I probably took for granted a lot more than I realised.
That is until I played Venba.
Venba is a short but beautiful little indie game by Visai Games which looks to not only explore that very struggle but to tell it’s story through food. Through a combination of narrative scenes and cooking puzzles, Venba’s story unfolds across decades of the eponymous character’s life following her story as she moves to Toronto with her newly wed husband to start their new life together.
As you have hopefully deduced from the introduction, food is a very important aspect to both my culture and me personally. There’s a vibrancy and expressiveness to Indian and South Asian cooking which has always fascinated me and it’s something Visai Games understands all too well.
Plenty of games have tried to simulate realistic cooking and food to varying degrees of success. When Ignis proclaims he has come up with a new recipe in Final Fantasy 15 you best believe I am making a beeline to a campsite to check it out.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with the presentation here but there’s only so much you can do with pixels and lighting on a 2D plane. Food is a multisensory experience — taste, smell, texture and presentation are all integral to the experience. Venba instead presents its food in a beautiful painted style that better captures the complexity of the experience. All of this is accented by a soundtrack that pays homage to Tamil films music through the years with traditional instruments blended with modern production techniques. I’m no music critic but I can honestly say it SLAPS and is a perfect accompaniment to the aesthetic of the game.
I’ve spent many many hours of my adult life learning and experimenting with Indian recipes (the number of times I’ve added tofu to Indian dishes is probably bordering on a hate crime at this point). Unsurprisingly then, the idea of a whole game that revolves around cooking South Asian food had me hooked from the day it was announced. What really resonated with me most though is how playing this game felt like holding up a mirror to my own life and in particular my inner conflict.
Venba’s story
Alongside the struggles of an unfamiliar language, culture and bureaucracy, Venba and her husband have to raise their only child Kavin who is born in Toronto a few years after they move.
As Kavin grows up his parents watch his drift from the culture they know eschewing the food, the rituals and routines and eventually even his own name.
In one particular sequence early on Venba tries to get Kavin excited about cooking Tamil food by describing cooking Puttu (a rice flour and coconut log) as a rocket taking off; an analogy for the release of steam when you finish cooking the dish. Kavin being 7 years old and having the expected attention span of someone his age is undeniably enthralled by this.
It’s a fleeting moment of connection between Venba and her son and the story takes a lot more twists and turns from here on. But it’s a great example of how effortlessly the game weaves the cooking and food into its narrative.
Throughout the game both Venba and Kavin refer to nostalgic smells and sounds reminding them of specific touchpoints across their lives. If you’ve ever thrown cumin and mustard seeds into crackling in hot oil you’ll know it’s a combination of smells and sounds with a transcendent cultural significance.
What’s in a name?
A few chapters into the game it is revealed that Kavin’s friends all call him Kevin, a change that upsets Venba.
Changing one letter in your name comes across so innocuous that it barely registers with Kavin or any of his friends. It feels like a necessary compromise to make life a little easier for a teenage boy just trying to fit in. Venba’s husband even reminds her that they moved to Toronto looking for a better life and compromises like this are necessary.
Venba’s feelings here are completely understandable because the game frames the interaction from her perspective. Kavin is a name she chose because it has meaning and cultural significance and that gets thrown away so quickly in a decision that feels almost casually cruel.
This is a short scene in the game but it’s the one that hit home so hard I had to put the game down for a day before returning to it. For me, growing up with the name Harshit was difficult. Making the similar decision to go by Harry throughout school didn’t make a huge difference to any of the bullying or discrimination I faced. It’s a decision I made in the same desperation for assimilation as Kavin, throwing away any connection to my roots and the deeper meaning behind my name (ironically it means happiness) with disregard for my parents or their feelings.
Watching the same thing play out from Venba’s perspective was heartbreaking. Of course in my adulthood looking back it’s easy to see the bigger picture but only after playing Venba was I almost forced to reflect on it.
This is far from the only story beat that parallels my own life.
Being embarrassed of my packed lunches because of the smell? Check.
Moving away for university and becoming increasingly distant from my parents? Check.
Failing to follow the correct order of ingredients making Biryani? Check.
(OK that last one is less personal but seriously Biryani is hard to get right.)
Diaspora Living
Playing Venba didn’t fundamentally change me as a person. I’ve always been fully aware of the choices I made to assimilate growing up and what impact they’ve had. What Venba did do is validate for me just how hard making those choices can be and the impact of them.
I don’t have many regrets about these choices; I’m still not really sure if I should. There are still plenty of ways to keep in touch with my roots, cooking or otherwise, and there is always time to change things if I feel like I’ve drifted away.
Hopefully my minor existential crisis has convinced you that Venba is not only a worthwhile experience but also a fantastic representation of the experiences of a South Asian moving to the west. There’s plenty of story beats I haven’t mentioned above that all capture this experience just as well and the story extends well into Kavin’s adult life too. This is truly a story worth experiencing first-hand
