Hi! Welcome to Lines on The Grass.
I'm a writer, pianist, and music composer from Bangalore. But strip away those labels, and what remains is something far more elemental: I am, at my core, simply a fan. The kind who sits slack-jawed at a perfectly executed cover drive or feels something catch in their throat during a film score that knows exactly when to swell.
I like to write from that space too - positioned just beyond the boundary rope, a few meters on the other side of the field where the grass meets gravel. Hence, Lines on The Grass.
Why This?
Look, I get it. Your inboxes resemble digital landfills. Your social feeds have the frantic energy of Times Square on New Year’s Eve. There’s content everywhere, like that scene in The Matrix where Neo finally sees the code. A lot of it is extraordinary - jaw-dropping, even.
But I have a bit of a red rag with some writing. Not with the quality per se, but the lack of texture. I find fewer and fewer pieces telling the reader about why an event matters, or the occasion of it.
Take Virat Kohli’s otherworldly performance against Pakistan at the T20 World Cup 2022. The next day, everyone wrote about the two sixes as if we were goldfish who needed reminding. It was the most memorable few minutes of cricket we’ll likely ever witness, and yet we got page upon page of Wikipedia summary.
I’d like to talk about the beating heart under the polyester jersey, the sweaty face under the helmet. What was Virat Kohli’s heart-rate like after the third ball of the Haris Rauf over, as the difference between target and balls-left had reached a cliff’s edge? Was he tentative before switching on? Did he think back to his recent form, did he feel that he needed to do this to show himself that there was enough strength left in those muscles? Was there a shot in his innings that one could look back and say, “Yeah, this was Kohli’s day.”
For example, before that Tendulkar six against Shoaib, there was a cover drive against Wasim. It counted for a mere four runs in the tall-ish chase of 273, but the shot mattered because it told Tendulkar and all of us watching that he was on it, seeing the ball well, ready for the fearsome pace attack in green.
My piece on Kohli won’t nearly make Rohit Brijnath nervously check his rearview mirror, but it will tell you how I saw that innings - through my particular kaleidoscope of experience, bias, and emotion. With every essay, I’m peeling off a layer of myself and sliding it across the table to you. Think of it as a potluck where I’m bringing something homemade. And like anyone trying to perfect a recipe, I hope to evolve my writing and storytelling with each attempt.
What To Expect
Sports, primarily. I think about football, cricket, and tennis a lot. Like, an awful lot, to the point where I sometimes wonder if I really should be thinking about the unforced error from a Wimbledon semi-final five years back as I fall into bed. I’ve written for IndianExpress, Eurosport, and FirstPost for years; and served as an editorial lead for a football magazine. This is a neater collection of some articles that I enjoyed writing.
Books are coming into the fold. Recently, I reviewed one of my favourite sports books of the year, and I plan to expand beyond that particular shelf. Full disclosure: I’m not a professional book reviewer. I don’t have a tweed jacket with elbow patches or a pipe. I’m just someone who reads and has thoughts about it.
Hopefully, I can bring music writing back on the menu. It’s going to sound like this. Recently, I was struck by Alokananda Dasgupta’s score for Jubilee. In a show set in 1940s and 50s India, she could have easily reached for the expected Indian soundscape - harmoniums and sitars with violins for ambience. Instead, she went British period drama, all staccato strings and 3/4 march rhythms. Meanwhile, the songs follow Hindustani classical traditions. So good.
The Promise
If there’s one thing I can promise, it is authenticity. You’ll be hearing me talk, unhinged.
A core principle I try to follow with my essays here is to discuss what I love without drowning you in jargon or insider knowledge. You shouldn’t need a Ph.D. in cricket statistics or a degree in music theory to follow along. I’d like my writing to be accessible to everyone, even those who wouldn’t watch sport if that were the only running event on television.
If sports, music, or books aren’t your thing, I still hope you’ll find something within the lines that speaks to you. And if nothing here suits your palate today, maybe something I write tomorrow will make you return.
Subscriptions
My essays will always remain free to read. That said, I am a freelancer and all support goes a long way. Regardless, thank you for reading till this far. I hope you find something worth your time here.
So stick around. Tell your friends. And, most definitely, hydrate.
