About Narchol

Narchol is a Tamil word. It means a good word. A word that carries meaning, weight, and intent.

Pronounced: Nar-chol. Nar as in nurture, chol with a short o, ending softly on l.

Tamil is not just a language to me—it is my culture, memory, identity, rhythm, and resistance. It is the soil beneath everything I build. It has shaped how I think, how I argue, how I dream, and how I return to myself when the world gets loud. This space begins there.

I work in healthcare technology. It's how I make my living, and it's work I find meaningful—building systems that quietly affect whether people get care, get answers, get seen. Today, I lead a large team working on AI-driven development, figuring out how to make these tools useful without losing the craft beneath them.

But I'm deeply curious about the world beyond my work: politics, social justice, poverty reduction, practical socialism, education, money, and the small choices that shape ordinary life.

Narchol is where all of that lives.

I write about technology as craft, not hype. About money and personal finance, because freedom is hard without financial clarity—and too many people are locked out by jargon and fear. About healthcare, because I've seen from the inside how systems decide who gets a fair shot.

I also write about what I love.

Ilaiyaraaja, who is not just a composer but a language of emotion. Cinema from the south, where stories carry soil and politics and poetry. Books, travel, food—culture understood slowly, with patience.

And Kerala.

They call it God's Own Country, and for once the marketing is not wrong. It is where I am most myself—the backwaters, the monsoon, the food that knows no restraint, the green that never ends. Tamil is my identity, but Kerala is my comfort. I return there the way others return to prayer.

This is not a publication chasing trends. It is not a content machine.

It is a personal space where I work out what I think—carefully, honestly, in the open. I'll write what I know, flag what I'm still learning, and try to say only what's worth saying.

A good word, offered sincerely. That's the intent.