I'm a technologist, a builder, and a writer. I co-founded Nvision Technologies in 1998, and later Cask Data, which was acquired by Google (GCP) in 2018. My work has centered on AI and distributed systems, the kind of infrastructure problems that get harder, not easier, as scale grows.
I write to think. It is one of the places I find peace. I write about a lot of things, life, the experiments I am running, the curiosities I keep returning to, AI (which is newly added), and the quotes I collect and try to practice. I do not write to communicate ideas I already have. I write to discover what I actually believe. Some essays are polished arguments, some are half-formed questions, and I am comfortable with both.
Life, to me, is more than work. It is exploring mentally and physically. I like being surrounded by family and friends. Four friends from my school years are still the closest people in my life, and I will do anything for them.
I think about most things through a painkiller and vitamin lens. Painkillers solve a problem that already hurts. Vitamins are nice to have. I use that frame to prioritize, in work and in life, because life is too short to be hung up on one thing.
On Niranta
Niranta is my personal corner of the internet. The tagline, 42, our life's answer, is a nod to Douglas Adams and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: the answer to life, the universe, and everything is 42. It's a reminder that we're all searching for meaning, and sometimes the right answer to a question is realizing you've been asking the wrong question.
I write across a range of subjects. AI and what it means for how we work and think. Quotes and idioms that have quietly shaped how I lead and live. Philosophy at the practical level, not Plato in the abstract, but Seneca on a Sunday morning. Health and what endurance teaches you. Experiments I'm running. And personal essays about the things that matter most.
On Niranta Life
Niranta is also a physical place. Niranta Life is a space I am building for my family, separate from this blog. The pace of that project has taught me more about patience than any book on the subject. The writing here is one expression of the idea. The space is the other.
These are the approved architectural designs. The sausage making, the actual building, is in progress.
On Loss and Writing
In January 2025, my brother passed away after a year-long illness. I stopped writing. For months, the cursor blinked on empty pages. Grief has a way of making even the most articulate person go silent, not because there's nothing to say, but because everything you might say feels smaller than the thing you're carrying.
He fought like hell to the end. He was not ready to give in, even when the doctors said there was nothing more they could do.
I came back to writing not because I healed, but because I remembered that writing is how I heal. I still sense him around me every day. These essays are partly for me, and partly for anyone who has ever tried to make sense of something that resists sense-making.
The Other Things
When I'm not writing or building, I'm hiking. Nepal left its mark on me, there's something about moving through difficult terrain, step by step, that resets the way I think about everything else.
If something here resonated, I'd love to hear from you. The best conversations happen when strangers connect over ideas they didn't know they shared.