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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A global survey shows robot anxiety drops when people encounter robots in real life
Updated
April 1, 2026 8:55 AM
Ameca the humanoid robot, featuring a grey rubber face. PHOTO: ADOBE STOCK
People often assume robots make people uneasy everywhere. But a new global study suggests something more nuanced. Robot anxiety tends to be highest in places where people rarely see robots in real life. Where robots are more visible, attitudes are often far more positive. That insight comes from a global study by Hexagon AB, which surveyed 18,000 participants across nine major markets. The research explored how adults and children think about robots and how those views change depending on everyday exposure.
In the United Kingdom, anxiety about robots is the highest among the countries studied. Around 52% of adults say they feel worried that something might go wrong when they think about interacting with or working alongside robots. South Korea sits at the other end of the spectrum, with only 29% reporting similar concerns. One factor appears to explain much of the gap: familiarity.
British adults are among the least likely to have encountered robots in real life. Only about 30% say they have seen or used one. In contrast, countries where robots are more visible tend to report greater comfort. China offers the clearest example. Around 75% of adults there say they have seen or interacted with robots. At the same time, 81% say they feel excited about the technology’s future potential.
The study suggests that attitudes toward robots are not fixed. Instead, they shift depending on where people encounter them and what tasks they perform. When robots are seen solving clear, practical problems, confidence tends to rise.
Across the surveyed countries, adults report the highest comfort levels with robots working in factories and warehouses. Around 63% say they are comfortable with robots in those environments. These are settings where tasks are clearly defined and safety standards are well understood. Acceptance drops in more personal spaces. Only 46% say they feel comfortable with robots in the home, while comfort falls further to 39% when robots are imagined in classrooms.
In other words, context matters. People appear more willing to accept robots when they take on physically demanding or dangerous work. Half of the respondents say improved safety is one of the main advantages of robotics in those environments. A similar share point to productivity gains as another benefit. Another finding challenges a common assumption about public fears. Job loss is often described as the biggest concern surrounding robotics. But the study suggests security risk worries people more.
Around 51% of adults say their biggest concern about robots at work is the possibility that the machines could be hacked or misused. That fear outweighs worries about physical malfunction or injury, which stand at 41%. Concerns about being replaced at work appear at the same level.
For many respondents, the issue is not simply whether robots can perform tasks. It is whether the systems controlling them are secure. According to researchers involved in the study, these concerns reflect how people evaluate emerging technologies. Instead of having a single opinion about robotics, people tend to judge each situation individually.
A robot helping assemble products in a factory may feel acceptable. The same technology operating in more sensitive environments can raise different questions. Dr. Jim Everett, an associate professor in moral psychology, says trust in artificial intelligence and robotics is often misunderstood. People are not simply asking whether they trust the technology, he notes. They are thinking about specific tools performing specific roles.
A robot assisting in a classroom or helping in healthcare carries different expectations than an AI system used in defense or surveillance. Even though these technologies are often grouped together in public debates, people evaluate them differently depending on their purpose.
Finally, the study also highlights another important factor shaping public attitudes: experience. When people actually encounter robots, fear often declines. Michael Szollosy, a robotics researcher involved in the project, says reactions tend to change quickly when individuals meet a robot for the first time.
The idea of an autonomous machine can feel intimidating in theory. But when people see a small service robot or an industrial machine performing a straightforward task, the reaction is often much calmer. Exposure can shift perceptions from abstract fears to practical understanding.
That shift matters because robotics is moving steadily into everyday environments. From manufacturing and logistics to healthcare and public services, machines capable of autonomous or semi-autonomous work are becoming more common.
As that happens, the study suggests public confidence may depend less on technical breakthroughs and more on visibility and transparency. Burkhard Boeckem, chief technology officer at Hexagon AB, argues that trust grows when people understand what robots are designed to do and where their limits lie.
Anxiety tends to increase when systems feel invisible or poorly understood. Clear boundaries and clear explanations can have the opposite effect. When people see robots working safely alongside humans, performing well-defined tasks and operating within clear rules, the technology becomes easier to accept.
In that sense, the future of robotics may depend as much on public familiarity as on engineering. The machines themselves are advancing quickly. But the relationship between humans and robots is still being negotiated. For now, the study offers a simple insight: the more people encounter robots in everyday life, the less mysterious they become. And once the mystery fades, the conversation often changes from fear to curiosity.