An interview with Tengin founder Madhu on turning coconuts into a business built around farmers, villages and communities.
Updated
June 1, 2026 1:46 PM
Workers of Tengin. PHOTO: TENGIN
In Southern India, coconuts are part of daily life. They are used in food, rituals, farming and home remedies. For Tengin, a social startup whose name means “coconut” in Kannada—a South Indian language—the crop also offers a way to build a rural business with deeper local impact.
Founded by Madhu Kargunda in 2017, Tengin works with farmers, artisans and women’s collectives in Karnataka to make products from almost every part of the coconut. Its range includes virgin coconut oil, desiccated coconut powder, shell-based handicrafts, candles, home décor items and other coconut-based goods.
The larger idea is simple. Farmers should play a bigger role in the value created from the crops they grow. Tengin is trying to help rural communities move beyond supplying raw produce and take part in processing, branding, packaging and sales.
Madhu grew up in an agricultural family. Over the years, he saw many young people move away from farming to look for stable jobs in cities. To him, the problem was not farming itself. The bigger issue was that farmers often missed out on the value created after crops left the farm.
A coconut might be grown in a village, but much of the income comes later through processing, branding and retail. That gap stayed with him, eventually leading him to leave his eight-year career in IT and return to agriculture full-time.
Started with just making virgin coconut oil, Tengin has grown into a wider coconut products business. The startup is now working with around 15 to 20 farmers and artisan groups across Karnataka. It is also building production capacity for larger retail and B2B partnerships.
Today, Tengin generates annual revenue of roughly ₹50-60 lakh, or around US$52,000 to US$62,000. It has also started testing international demand, including a recent export of around 200 kilograms of desiccated coconut powder to Texas.
As Tengin expanded, the team began looking more closely at parts of the coconut that were usually treated as waste or low-value byproducts, such as coconut shells and coir. At first, Tengin treated them that way too.
“When we started, we used to burn some of the shells”, Madhu said. “Later, we realized it was an economic opportunity”.
That changed the company’s product strategy. Local artisans working with Tengin now are turning coconut shells into bowls, incense holders, candles, coffee mugs, mobile stands and handcrafted décor items.
This gives Tengin a place in the circular economy, where waste materials are reused instead of thrown away. For Madhu, though, sustainability has to do more than reduce waste. It should also create income in the community.
“We wanted to minimize waste and maximize wealth locally”, he said.
Tengin does not depend only on one central factory. Instead, it works with smaller village-level production groups that connect to a larger business network. This helps farmers stay close to their land while also taking part in processing and manufacturing. It also creates local jobs, which can reduce the pressure to migrate to cities.
Yet, the model is not always easy. In the early days, Tengin had to convince some farmers to move from chemical farming to natural farming. Moreover, the weather has also become harder to predict. Irregular rainfall and changing harvest cycles can affect coconut prices and production consistency.
Still, Madhu sees the village-based model as central to Tengin’s identity. For him, villages are living systems built on shared work, local knowledge and interdependence.
“The definition of a village is inclusiveness”, he said.
That belief also shaped Tengin’s “coco tourism” initiative. Through the program, visitors meet farmers, learn about farming practices and see how coconut products are made.
During one visit by MBA students from Indiana State University, an unexpected spell of rain gave the group a closer look at village life. Farmers gathered and began singing traditional folk songs to express gratitude to nature. For the students, it became a lesson in culture as much as business.
Madhu sees these moments as part of what rural entrepreneurship can protect.
“If villages become empty, we lose language, traditions and local knowledge too”, he said.
Tengin’s model is not difficult to copy on paper. Madhu is open about that.
“Anyone can do it”, he said, “but what matters is how you work with people”.
For him, the harder part is building long-term trust with farming communities. Tengin works through relationships more than rigid contracts. This encourages farmers and local groups to participate in the system in a more collaborative way.
That trust has become one of the startup’s strongest assets. It shapes how Tengin works with producers and how it presents its products to customers.
For Madhu, it is not enough to call a product sustainable. Customers should be able to understand where it came from, who made it and how their purchase supports the people behind it.
That matters even more in a market where terms like “eco-friendly” and “organic” have become buzzwords. Madhu knows that these words can feel empty when brands do not show what they actually mean.
“Anyone can use these words today,” he said. “What matters is whether consumers can actually see what you are doing”.
This is why Tengin focuses on transparency and storytelling. The startup wants customers to see the full journey of each coconut product, from the farm to the finished item. It also wants them to understand whose livelihood is connected to that journey.
Madhu also believes small brands cannot depend on products alone. Products can be copied, but a clear story, a trusted community and a visible impact are harder to replicate.
“Don’t try to sell only the product,” he said. “When you try to sell the product, you are being sold once”.
Each Tengin product includes details about the people behind it and how profits are shared. In that way, the company connects its coconut products to the farmers, artisans and village systems that make them possible.
For Madhu, entrepreneurship starts with the problem. Founders, he believes, should understand the problem deeply before thinking about scale and revenue.
“An entrepreneur is someone trying to solve an existing problem”, he said. “Sometimes it may be a small problem, sometimes a niche one. It could be in technology, energy, farming or any other sector—but first understand what problem you are trying to solve”.
Farming has also taught him patience. He gives the example of coffee.
“When you plant coffee, you know it may take five years before you see results”, he said, “but you still [have to] water it every day”.
He sees entrepreneurship the same way. Building systems, communities and trust takes time. Growth may be slow at first, but daily work matters.
Adaptability is another lesson he returns to often. Farming conditions change constantly, and so do markets. In both cases, people have to keep learning, unlearning and adjusting.
“Entrepreneurship is about constantly learning new things because the world is changing all the time”, he said. “You need to stay relevant, understand what connects with [your customers] and adapt accordingly”.
Looking ahead, Tengin plans to grow its farmer network, strengthen production capacity and expand its export business. Madhu is also looking to collaborate with more platforms, storytellers and communities that can help amplify the voices behind the products.
The startup is also involved in rural community initiatives, including support for government schools and menstrual health awareness programs.
For Madhu, giving back is part of how he defines success. With more resources, he would invest further in farmer education, village-level production systems and community development.
By building a business around coconuts, Tengin is also making a larger case for rural entrepreneurship. Its work shows that a modern consumer brand can grow without losing its connection to the farmers, traditions and village ecosystems that make that growth possible. For Madhu, that is the real measure of progress: creating value that stays rooted in the community.
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Here’s the story of how a quirky toy transformed into a worldwide phenomenon.
Updated
January 8, 2026 6:35 PM
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Labubu vinyl figure displayed with surprise blind boxes in a store in Guayaquil, Ecuador. PHOTO: ADOBE STOCK
Trends move fast. One moment it's Dubai’s viral “Kunafa” chocolate bar, the next it’s Labubu—a mischievous-looking doll—racks up US$670 million in revenue this year, even outpacing Barbie and Hot Wheels. Celebrities like BLACKPINK’s Lisa and Dua Lipa have been spotted with Labubu dolls—whether as bag charms or in playful social posts.
For those unfamiliar, Labubu is the breakout character from the book series“The Monster” by Hong Kong-born, Belgium-based artist Kasing Lung. Alongside Labubu, the series features other quirky monsters like Zimomo, Mokoko and Tycoco—often grouped together as “Labubus”. These vinyl Labubu figures first entered the collectible scene in 2011 as “Monsters”, produced by Hong Kong-based production house How2Work. In 2019, Lung signed an exclusive licensing deal with Pop Mart, a Beijing-based toy collectible company, which further boosted the recognition and popularity of the franchise.
At first glance, Labubu might seem like just another fad. But the craze shows something deeper: in digital marketing, virality doesn’t happen by accident. It’s the result of timing, relatability and the rway global communities amplify trends.
So, what can marketers learn from the Labubu phenomenon? Let’s take a closer look.
Labubu’s unconventional aesthetics—a notorious grin, sharp teeth and wide eyes—break the traditional mold of “cute” toys. The social listening report from Meltwater, a media intelligence company reveals that from January to May 2025, mentions of “cute” outnumbered “ugly” nearly five to one. This “ugly-cute” look gave Labubu its identity and helped it stand out in a crowded market.
Marketing lesson: In a world of where everything blends together on endless feeds, uniqueness wins. Standing out with bold, even unconventional design choices can spark curiosity and desire. By leaning into what makes a product different, brands create instant recognition and give people something worth talking about.
Labubu’s surge in popularity is deeply rooted in Pop Mart’s focus on building genuine relationships with its fans. The company encourages user-generated content— unboxings, fan art, influencer stories—that fueled Labubu’s spread online and build brand engagement. Fans weren’t just buying toys; they were becoming part of a community that celebrated each new design.
Marketing lesson: Customers don’t want to feel like faceless buyers. They want to feel seen, heard and part of something bigger. By encouraging engagement and valuing contributions, brands can turn casual customers into loyal advocates who spread the word on their behalf.
While Pop Mart notes Labubu is most popular among women aged 18–30, its audience has broadened beyond that group. The design draws on influences from Nordic mythology and East Asian “kawaii” culture, making it feel both familiar and new to global audiences.
For Millennials and Gen Xers, Labubu also sparks nostalgia for toy crazes like Tickle Me Elmo and Beanie Babies that once lit up childhoods before fading away. Together, these layers of cultural resonance and cross-generational charm give Labubu an unusually broad reach.
Marketing lessons: Relatability is a powerful driver of virality. When a product can connect across generations and cultures, it expands far beyond a niche fan base. Brands that blend familiarity with novelty can build bridges to much larger audiences.
Labubu’s blind box model makes buying feel like a game. The thrill of not knowing which design you’d unwrap made collecting Labubus fun. It also turns buying into an emotional experience rather than a rational choice, fueling the urge to complete entire collections.
Besides, the suspense itself became content—millions watched unboxing videos to share in the excitement. Even BLACKPINK’s Lisa admitted she began with “only three to four” Labubus but soon wanted “a whole box” of the latest collection.
Marketing lesson: Mystery creates excitement, and excitement drives repeat purchases. By adding an element of surprise, brands can make the buying experience feels less like a transaction and more like a story unfolding. That thrill keeps customers coming back and makes the product easy to share online.
Pop Mart releases Labubus in limited drops, often tied to holidays or cultural events. Some editions include ultra-rare “chase” figures—appearing only once in every 144 boxes—creating a strong sense of urgency and fear-of-missing out (FOMO) among buyers. This strategy fuels a booming resale market, where regular figures retailing at US$25 can sell for US$200–US$300, and rare editions have even fetched prices up to US$150,000.
Marketing lessons: Scarcity isn’t just about limiting supply—it’s about building anticipation. By tying releases to events and sprinkling in rare editions, brands keep fans watching for the next drop. This combination of urgency and exclusivity transforms ordinary products into must-have collectibles.
Labubu has expanded its reach through creative brand collaborations. For instance, the Labubu x Coca-Cola series features figures in iconic red-and-white themes, while a Vans Old Skool drop merged streetwear in the clothing brand’s notable checkerboard pattern with collectibles. The One Piece collaboration blended Labubu’s quirky style with beloved anime heroes, appealing to fans of both worlds.
Marketing takeaway: Collaborations breathe fresh life into a brand and open doors to new audiences. Partnering with well-known names adds cultural weight and collectible value, while keeping the brand relevant in different communities. Done right, collaborations turn niche products into mainstream sensations.
Labubu’s phenomenal success is more than a passing craze. It’s proof that bold design, authentic community building, clever scarcity and cultural collaborations can transform a quirky idea into a global movement.
For marketers, the takeaway is simple: don’t just chase trends—create something real and let your community shape the story with you. Be bold, stay authentic and bring your fans along for the ride. That’s how brands move from fleeting hype to lasting cultural icons.