Happy 1st Birthday, LURU!

Readers, lend me your eyes! We come to declare: print is alive – and it’s kicking!

In the digital-first world of 2025, a bunch of adventurous, enterprising Bangaloreans set about putting together a hyper-local, print publication – LURU. And it’s been quite the year-long ride with three issues on stands now. While we roll into our second publishing cycle, the LURU Newsletter duo arm-twists some of the OG members of the team to help piece together the origin myths of this publication. (Pssst, we’re celebrating by moving into a new workspace in Indiranagar. Drop by, there’s coordinates at the end of this story.)

We’re skipping past the smoke and mirrors, skirting the passionate conversations powered by takeout food (yes, it was mostly from Nagarjuna on Residency Road) and whittling down to the kernel of motivation.

Spilling the ink

Everything online “is driven by the algorithm, it leaves people with a short-term hit but there isn’t a lasting feeling to it,” says Nikhil Ravichandar, executive producer of the magazine, over a voice note recalling his early conversations with founding editor Abraham Koshy. “There’s something to be said about stories that we hold rather than the stories that we scroll,” he crisply summarises the decision to dive into print.

Raghav Krishna, creative director at LURU, echoes these sentiments and adds that he spent years “designing for screens, building identities and systems that live in fast, disposable environments. At some point I started craving the opposite: something slower, tactile, and more deliberate,” he says, while speeding across the city scanning different natural textures for the LURU Issue #4 themed “Nature/Nurture”.

“The idea really came from a mix of frustration and longing,” Raghav clarifies. “Frustration with how Bangalore is constantly described from the outside, and longing to build a more grounded record of the city,” he says. And for him, “Print felt like the right container because it forces commitment. Once it’s on paper, it has weight.”

For a medium that everyone and their uncle is constantly declaring dead, Gaurav Krishna, LURU’s creative director and in-house photographer, has found, in fact, “we get more stories and ideas when we say we are print-forward as opposed to a completely digital publication because it seems like people want something to hold and touch,” he says.

Sheet City

Bengaluru has always been “the city to try out new ideas,” Gaurav quietly declares. “The city is open and encouraging to possibilities” and supports potential. An independent filmmaker, Gaurav wouldn’t have seen himself working in print “even three years ago” but “the city being supportive” has cautiously charged him on.

The marriage between a magazine and a metropolis like Bengaluru was an easy fit for Raghav. “We are a city built on layers. Languages, neighbourhoods, communities, histories. It’s not a place that reveals itself quickly, and print matches that pace,” he says. “Also, Bangalore already has a strong relationship with reading, even if it’s not always in English. There’s a long history here of Kannada newspapers, bookstalls, small presses, political pamphlets, community newsletters. Even now, there’s still a kind of physical literacy in the city. People read on buses, in parks, at darshinis, at old bookshops. Print feels natural here because it gives the city space to speak in full sentences,” he thoughtfully adds.

Scripting the future

Over a year of printing, Nikhil (also an applied behavioural scientist) has made some notes, not unusual for him at all. “Here’s what I’ve learned: people want this, there is a visceral need to hold something that speaks to belonging. People – like even my parents – move here because the city affords them opportunities – and then, they view themselves as one with the city. Also: there is immense creative energy in the city that is untapped and ready to unleash itself” and he doesn’t see the harm in adding a new avenue for it.

For Raghav, the past year in print “has been equal parts deeply fulfilling and completely unhinged. You think you’re making a magazine but it’s logistics disguised as art. I’ve learned how much of publishing is invisible work, and how delayed the rewards are. But I’ve also learned something really beautiful: print creates a different relationship with readers. People don’t just consume it, they keep it, gift it, and return to it,” he says.

While “it has been a year of chaos” for Gaurav, it has also afforded him “a deeper connection with the city and its people” but he is also looking forward to “learning as we grow.”

The details: Basement, 444, 13th Cross, 5th Main Road, 2nd Stage, Indiranagar. Monday-Friday, Noon-7pm.