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 closer look at how reading, conversation, and AI are being combined
Updated
February 7, 2026 2:18 PM
Assorted plush character toys piled inside a glass claw machine. PHOTO: ADOBE STOCK
In the past, “educational toys” usually meant flashcards, prerecorded stories or apps that asked children to tap a screen. ChooChoo takes a different approach. It is designed not to instruct children at them, but to talk with them.
ChooChoo is an AI-powered interactive reading companion built for children aged three to six. Instead of playing stories passively, it engages kids in conversation while reading. It asks questions, reacts to answers, introduces new words in context and adjusts the story flow based on how the child responds. The goal is not entertainment alone, but language development through dialogue.
That idea is rooted in research, not novelty. ChooChoo is inspired by dialogic reading methods from Yale’s early childhood language development work, which show that children learn language faster when stories become two-way conversations rather than one-way narration. Used consistently, this approach has been shown to improve vocabulary, comprehension and confidence within weeks.
The project was created by Dr. Diana Zhu, who holds a PhD from Yale and focused her work on how children acquire language. Her aim with ChooChoo was to turn academic insight into something practical and warm enough to live in a child’s room. The result is a device that listens, responds and adapts instead of simply playing content on command.
What makes this possible is not just AI, but where that AI runs.
Unlike many smart toys that rely heavily on the cloud, ChooChoo is built on RiseLink’s edge AI platform. That means much of the intelligence happens directly on the device itself rather than being sent back and forth to remote servers. This design choice has three major implications.
First, it reduces delay. Conversations feel natural because the toy can respond almost instantly. Second, it lowers power consumption, allowing the device to stay “always on” without draining the battery quickly. Third, it improves privacy. Sensitive interactions are processed locally instead of being continuously streamed online.
RiseLink’s hardware, including its ultra-low-power AI system-on-chip designs, is already used at large scale in consumer electronics. The company ships hundreds of millions of connected chips every year and works with global brands like LG, Samsung, Midea and Hisense. In ChooChoo’s case, that same industrial-grade reliability is being applied to a child’s learning environment.
The result is a toy that behaves less like a gadget and more like a conversational partner. It engages children in back-and-forth discussion during stories, introduces new vocabulary in natural context, pays attention to comprehension and emotional language and adjusts its pace and tone based on each child’s interests and progress. Parents can also view progress through an optional app that shows what words their child has learned and how the system is adjusting over time.
What matters here is not that ChooChoo is “smart,” but that it reflects a shift in how technology enters early education. Instead of replacing teachers or parents, tools like this are designed to support human interaction by modeling it. The emphasis is on listening, responding and encouraging curiosity rather than testing or drilling.
That same philosophy is starting to shape the future of companion robots more broadly. As edge AI improves and hardware becomes smaller and more energy efficient, we are likely to see more devices that live alongside people instead of in front of them. Not just toys, but helpers, tutors and assistants that operate quietly in the background, responding when needed and staying out of the way when not.
In that sense, ChooChoo is less about novelty and more about direction. It shows what happens when AI is designed not for spectacle, but for presence. Not for control, but for conversation.
If companion robots become part of daily life in the coming years, their success may depend less on how powerful they are and more on how well they understand when to speak, when to listen and how to grow with the people who use them.