A rogue writer. Indie music curator. Part time candy extortionist.
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
Kaakamma Kathalu A YouTube-exclusive Telugu talk show I produced for Aha, which despite working off a limited budget, managed to create waves. Across a season of 10 episodes, the show brought in over 35K subscribers, 60M views and counting. And the best part? Before season 1 ended, the show was greenlit for a 2nd season.
0 notes
Text
How DJing Made Me A Better Creative Professional

Few things make me as dizzy with excitement as the first thump of the subwoofer when the amp kicks in. For those not in the know, I regularly step behind the DJ console after eventide falls. And I love it. Getting people out of their heads and into their bodies is its own high. “But pray Les, what does scorching dancefloors have to do with becoming a better creative professional?” you ask. Glad you did.
The one thing I’d despise with every cell in my being during my rookie years as a copywriter was client feedback, especially the kind that was critical of my ideas. There it stood, freshly printed and mounted on sunboard, an exquisitely crafted headline adorning an equally regal layout, that distilled everything the brand should say, in just the right words and tone of voice that encapsulated its rich legacy of communication. A goddamn piece of poetry by any measure. Or so I thought. Until the client tore it up because, (and I can’t believe I have to repeat those awful words) mazza nahi aaya!
Over these past 2 decades I found ways to dull the sting of rejection and tough love feedback. Mostly whiskey. Quite often it came down to what battles were worth fighting. Yet somewhere sitting in the corners of my conscience was that high-brow beatnik that still questioned how this room temperature IQ pleb was in any way qualified to critique my work. My high octane copy and ideas, that brought with them the fury of the gods.
I started DJing around 2020. First in the bedroom, then on Twitch, and after a proper Pro level course, live at venues. And boy, was I unprepared for the REAL dancefloor. In my head, I was crushing it with that 140BPM techno banger. So the club should be on fire right now, right? Colder than Dante’s Cocytus. The venue owner would pull me aside and with all the diplomacy he could muster, would tell me to take it easy, the crowd isn’t ready for it. Which was code for ‘Read the room, hotshot.’ This was pretty much how the early days went by. Empty dancefloors hurt. Even worse than the crowd chanting ‘DJ suxxx’. I was doing everything right. Latest jams. Technically accurate beatmatching. Pitch perfect mixing in key. Transitions smoother than butter. And still, empty dancefloors.
The one thing I should have realised early on is that this wasn’t about me. I’m never there to play for myself. It’s always for an audience. Get your TG wrong, and it all starts to fall apart. So, after a few aspirins and a moment of epiphany, I decided to right this ship. I started asking questions before every gig. What’s the kind of people that come here? Mostly young or old? What kind of music do they usually tap their feet to before the DJ takes over? Is there a special occasion that evening? Commonsense questions that changed the way I curated my sets, and my ability to take feedback. It wasn’t important to always be technically correct, as it was about finding that intent, that feeling, the answer to ‘Why Am I Doing This Exact Thing?’ and building around that nucleus.
Finding that answer meant rethinking everything. From shaping a set, to thinking on your feet when you’re hit with a song request or equipment malfunction. To be able to adapt to changes, and yet craft something unique. Reading the room helped me gauge the audience’s energy, critical to improvising on the fly. Trendy Tiktok dance hook track? You got it. A fresh new edit of an oldie but goodie? Say less fam.
Getting the brief right was one thing. Problem solving was a whole ‘nother minefield. You could prepare your set to a T, and you could still have technical issues, shifts in crowd energy, or worse have a police raid kill the buzz. (True story, some other time though.) Learning to adapt under pressure strengthened my ability to stay composed and find quick, innovative solutions to the challenge at hand.
And finally, like every art form, I learnt that DJing is about storytelling. What is the journey that I want to take the audience on, and how do I do this in the best way possible. As I sharpened my sets, I started to notice bits and parts of my own story reflect in it. My home, culture, travels, my personal struggles, the relationships and people that bind me to this good life, and the values that lift me up. Finding a way to distil these concepts into my work refined my ability to structure narratives, whether in creative conceptualisation or execution.
Ultimately, DJing has made me a more adaptable, accepting, intuitive, and expressive creative professional. My ability to command attention translated into better presentation of ideas at the office. Taking feedback became more about what I needed to address with my work than a personal affront. Whether pitching a concept, leading a project, or collaborating with a team, the self-assurance I’ve gained from DJing extends far beyond the decks, allowing me to own my creative vision, and inspire others.
As a Thank You for making it all the way to the end of this long post, here’s an Afro House set I mixed recently.
0 notes
Text
youtube
Bridgestone presents Sturdo Long Drives.
Check out all the videos here. -> https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLfDAx3OIqpDgEWG2Ppy86nM15INwqsucm
0 notes
Link
A few of my blogposts that were written during my time at Sun & Sand Sports, that are descriptive of my writing style and serve as objective-focused writing samples.
0 notes