I'm an engineer, which mostly means I like fixing things. I got it from my dad.
When I was small, my favourite thing in the world was to be his assistant. He ran an R&D lab — spent his days repairing and building and wiring things together to reshape his corner of the world — and as a four-year-old, the most useful thing I could do was hand him what he needed.
He told me once that there are two ways to help someone. You can lay out every tool they might need within reach, then step back and let your mind wander. Or you can do the harder thing: run the whole job in your head alongside them, and put the one tool they're about to reach for into their hand a second before they ask for it. The right thing at the right time, and nothing else.
I've been trying to build the second kind ever since.
These days I do it at Southbridge — the chip, not the bridge; San Francisco and Singapore — where I'm CEO and we build data agents with the craziest people I know. The unglamorous version: software that wades into the first mile of someone's data — health records, financial filings, decades of energy readings, the tangled pile nobody can afford to throw away — and makes it usable. It is, more or less, my dad's job: work out what someone needs from a mountain of information, and have it ready before they ask.
I came to all of this from a long way off. I grew up in small towns, farms, and government housing in India, in a railway family, in a Kerala village that never held more than a couple of thousand people. Everyone knew everyone, and you were mostly known by your craft — carpenters on my mother's side, farmers on my father's. I started doing signal-transmission work on a government railway project at fourteen, came to Singapore at fifteen on a scholarship, and the day I landed I became, for the first time in my life, "Indian." It's been home since.
The through-line only really shows up in the rear-view mirror. My twenties were signal processing, fibre optics, microcontrollers, and research at Yale-NUS — which somehow turned into co-authoring Oyente (ACM CCS 2016), a symbolic-execution engine that flagged more than $62M of exploitable Ethereum smart contracts at the time, and whose code later joined the Ethereum Foundation. You can watch me present it, visibly nervous, to a very large room in Vienna at twenty-two. Around the edges: a paper on sensory substitution, a three-country patent on thermal fire detection, the cover of Chemistry-Methods for a baseline-correction trick that ended up inside DNA sequencing and X-ray crystallography, and a long detour into reverse-engineering a glucose monitor. Different uniforms, the same problem underneath — getting some piece of stubborn reality into a shape a machine can reason about.



The next stretch was five years — a little over 1,900 unbroken days — as co-founder and CTO of Greywing (YC W21), building software for some of the largest shipowners in the world: routes, fuel, flights, and crew, across more dimensions and data silos than anyone should have to hold in their head. When Covid shut the borders we pivoted in a couple of weeks, and what we built ended up helping tens of thousands of stranded seafarers get home. A year later, the same routing code helped me find my own way home after I lost my dad. I stepped away in 2024 — burnt out, and fairly sure I was the wrong shape for the industry — though I'd take those years, and those people, again without a second thought.

A few of the things we made there outlived the company as ideas. SeaGPT, our maritime agent, was doing streaming, parallel tool-calls on GPT-3.5 when — as far as I know — nobody else was. WalkingRAG was one of the first attempts I know of at getting a model to 'walk' through a document the way a person does, chasing one half-answer to the next; I wrote it up in a three-part series I still hand people. Then, on a flight to see family, I built Rakis in ten days — a decentralised LLM network that runs entirely in the browser — mostly to find out whether it could be done.



The problem then was the one it has always been for me: data. We're surrounded by information that could describe and improve our lives, almost all of it ours, and hostile engineering, silos, and yesterday's tools keep most of it out of reach. Southbridge is what I'm doing about it.
We've open-sourced Hankweave, the long-horizon runtime we lean on when a job runs for hours or days instead of seconds, and I set the thinking down first in Antibrittle Agents. Lately I've been saying it out loud, too — No Country for Old Code at AI Engineer Singapore, the first AI Engineer flagship in Asia, and Synthetic Hires at SuperAI — both, underneath, about what changes when you stop treating an agent as a tool and start treating it as someone you've hired.
My dad believed you can't help but be happy when there's still a lot to learn. Every year I find more.
I write to think. These days it's spread across southbridge.ai/blog, this blog, Twitter, and a lot that stays inside the company — but here are some whose graphs refuse to flatline:
I try to write year-in-reviews (even though the years are filling up more and making it harder): 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, and 2024 (with a 4.5 follow-up). 2025 has been in-progress for a bit now — I apologise!
A few popular threads:
A mix of viral things, weekend hacks, and home-cooked apps for people I love. Stars where they exist.
Used by other people:
npx; works on himself.Smaller things I'm fond of:
Twitter · LinkedIn · GitHub · Hugging Face · Google Scholar
Always happy to chat.
