१Room one
The sketchbook, pinned to the wall.
Graphite, iPad, whatever's near. Most of these were drawn in stolen minutes — between deploys, at a resort railing, in the office art hour with friends whose work hangs here too.
Pencil lines from the pocket sketchbook, a stone road into Chitlang, diaries from Jhapa and Ilam, café corners, lab notes from the robot bench, a classroom of researchers, hackathon stages — life between the terminal and the mountains. Walk through slowly; every frame opens.
Graphite, iPad, whatever's near. Most of these were drawn in stolen minutes — between deploys, at a resort railing, in the office art hour with friends whose work hangs here too.
A stone road, a blue roof, a tree that caught the sun at exactly the right moment, and friends walking ahead. Shot as it came — one roll, no retakes.
← scroll the roll →
Judging at the WCBT hackathon, a run fest at dawn, and more second coffees than I'll admit.
Kanyam's tea rows, a horseman and his horse, and the team sitting on a hill with nothing to fix.
Where the book comes out of the bag. The walls usually have better advice than I do.
Before the robot moves, the maths moves on paper. Encoders, wheels, radii — by hand first.
AI for Research at Prakriti Resource Centre — the latest training we ran. Laptops open, prompts on the big screen, and a room full of people who ask better questions than most engineers.
Hackathons, bootcamps, award nights, and the photo everyone squeezes into at the end. Printed like a newspaper, because these days made the news more than once.
Kuri Village, Kalinchowk · 3,447 m · 2023
Black and white until you look closer. The red circle marks the keeper.
Circled: the medal collection. Every one of them came with a sunrise.
Too many to label, too good to leave in the phone. Nepal, mostly — ridge after ridge.
Lights down. Hover to play, tap for sound.
It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.
Oscar Wilde — preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray → three voices in the library