The Shop is Open

Scary hours

This week, I am adding paid subscriptions to my Substack. It has taken a lot of deliberation and tip-toeing. First things first, the idea is not to paywall my pieces. There will never be an obligation to subscribe. Unless Substack absolutely forces me otherwise, my posts will stay free to read. More than the monetary value I put on my pieces — on most days, not enough to even warrant a subscription — I would like new readers to be able to sift through the archives without any blockers. Call it an unrealistic parallel, but my favourite bookstores and libraries allow visitors to pick up any book and read for as long as they want before making a shopping decision. So this thin magazine will follow the same principles.

The other idea is to experiment. I struggle tremendously with pricing my written pieces or self-composed music. The other day, a director, who was commissioning me for the background score on his short film, asked me for my charges. I thought long and hard, and replied with a figure. He agreed without comment. When I mentioned the figure to a musician friend, he screamed on the phone for a minute. Apparently, I was charging less than what a composer with a year's experience does. But my question, primarily to myself, was - would anyone pay more than that for my pieces? So consider this a test to see whether my Substack is or can become subscription-worthy.

Next, I want to use this edition as a feedback form. I would love for you to write to me with whatever feedback or critique you have for my pieces, no matter how scathing. Quality of stories or prose, variety in topics - just let it rain. Or something that you'd like me to write about. Over time, I'd like to make this page my one key platform for written pieces, so any feedback will help immensely.

I am also mulling over adding a few more sections. Books and music, for starters. A couple of weeks back, I posted a review of one of my favourite sports books from this year. Going forward, I will write more about books on other topics. I am not a professional book reviewer; I wonder if I have the skills, but maybe I can write from a reader’s perspective.

Music writing, too. Most of it is going to be on these lines. Recently, I loved the background score in Jubilee. In a show set in 1940s and 50s India, it would've been easy for the composer, Alokananda Dasgupta, to go for a distinctly Indian soundscape. A lot of harmoniums, sitars, and some violins for the ambience. Instead, the score sounds like a British period drama, full of staccato strings and set on a 3/4 march rhythm. Looking at the aesthetics of the show, the characters, and the shadow of colonial influence that still engulfed India, it was a lovely choice. The songs, however, follow a Hindustani classical route. The combination is very out there, and it works beautifully.

One of the core ideas behind Lines on The Grass is to speak about things I like without ever overwhelming a reader. Ideally, they shouldn't need prior context to follow a piece. It is sometimes a tightrope, but also a nice challenge as a writer. It will always be my first goal with any essay I publish here. So, if you don't quite follow sports, music, or books, I hope you can still find something worthwhile in my pieces. If it still doesn't suit your palette, fair enough, I understand.

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As you read this, I am somewhere near the outskirts of Bangalore. Sitting back, petting dogs. I want to leave you with a lovely story about Agrupación Deportiva Ceuta Fútbol Club, a Spanish team based in Cueta. What is special about this, I hear you wondering. Cueta is an autonomous Spanish city bordered by Morocco on the north coast of Africa. As you might figure, the city is a cultural ramen pot. Their football team picks up from these roots and has built a wonderful symbol of multiculturalism.

Thank you for sticking around.