Technologist, Serial Creator, and Future-Thinker
CHAPTER 1: The Boy Who Read the World
Ben’s journey didn’t start in Silicon Valley. It started in the hill city of Kandy, Sri Lanka, a city that looks like it was carved out of a storybook—rolling green hills, ancient temples, and quiet lakes. But behind that postcard setting was a boy with an unexplainable hunger: I wanted to know everything.
From the time I could read, I didn’t stop.
Not comics. Not fairy tales.
Books. Information. Humanity. War. Psychology. Politics. Crime. History.
My mother, recognizing this storm inside me, did something extraordinary. She arranged to borrow the entire archive of Reader’s Digest—starting from the very first publication in 1922, issue by issue, decade by decade. She didn’t just bring me a few books—she brought me whole years of the magazine in giant boxes, hauled by hand from a local schoolmaster’s collection.
I read every single issue, cover to cover. Month after month. Year after year. From 1922 to around 1995. That included every British edition, every anecdote in the “Laughter is the Best Medicine” section, every deep feature and global dispatch. I didn’t skim—I absorbed. The war stories. The breakthroughs in science. The profiles of lost inventors. The psychology of fear and faith. I was reading the evolution of the 20th century as if I had lived it.
And when one box was done? We returned it and got the next. This wasn’t a hobby. It was my obsession.
Later, I devoured the local library too. It wasn’t massive, but it had enough. Books on the Mafia. On dictators. On World War II. On heartbreak and power and survival. My mother—again—became my accomplice. Every few days, she brought home new books. And I devoured them.
By the time I was a teenager, I had read thousands of books—many of which I still keep in my hometown, packed into shelves and memory. More importantly, I had developed something rare: a 360-degree view of how humans evolve under pressure. I saw not just events, but the patterns behind them.
That’s how I learned. Not in grades, but in humans.
CHAPTER 2: The American Circuit – Business at Scale
In my early twenties, I landed in Boston, Massachusetts—and everything changed.
I was working with Limited Brands, working on supply chain processes for brands like Victoria’s Secret, Lane Bryant, and Triumph. I was stationed in Andover, about 45 miles from Boston. And suddenly, I wasn’t just reading about global trade—I was living inside it.
- Raw fabrics were coming from China.
- Production was happening in Sri Lanka.
- Logistics were flowing through Hong Kong.
- And the final products were selling across the U.S.
This was the heartbeat of global capitalism, and I had a front-row seat. I learned how branding shapes perception, how margins get squeezed, and how marketing isn’t a department—it’s the air a product breathes.
I learned how Americans make decisions—fast, data-first, brand-led. How they scale. How they kill ideas that don’t work. I wasn’t in the boardroom yet, but I was watching the machinery, and I was learning.
CHAPTER 3: The Vietnam Shift – East vs. West
After Boston, I moved to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.
It was supposed to be just another job. But it ended up teaching me how the East builds differently.
In Vietnam, I saw manufacturing culture at its rawest. I worked across the value chain—from the factory floor to the product shelf. I met people who did things because their family reputation depended on it. I met others who could make decisions in one sentence that would take five meetings in the West.
I learned how Asians think about time, trust, and honor. How relationships outlast contracts. How patience is currency. The hustle was different. The pride was quieter—but no less fierce.
This was my second MBA. A global street MBA.
CHAPTER 4: The Interrupted Scholar
Before all of this, there was school—and my failure to finish it.
I dropped out of college. Not because I couldn’t handle it. But because we couldn’t afford it.
But life gave me another shot: a scholarship for CIMA (Chartered Institute of Management Accountants). I didn’t just pass. I excelled. I was exempt from Stage 1, and in a class of 92 students—most more “qualified” than me—I ranked 2nd. I have that exemption certificate framed. Not for ego, but because it reminds me that talent doesn’t always wear a uniform.
At the same time, I studied Information Technology. Again, I ranked near the top of my batch—despite being one of the least formally educated. But once again, I couldn’t continue. Money was tight. So I did what I’ve always done:
I worked. I learned. I adapted.
CHAPTER 5: The Tech Comeback – 2006 and Beyond
In 2006, I returned full-time to technology. But the world had changed—and so had I.
Since then, I’ve lived through every digital revolution:
- The collapse of Yahoo and rise of Google
- The SEO boom and Web 2.0 social media explosion
- The birth of Bitcoin, blockchain, and WordPress as global infrastructures
- The death of static sites and the birth of scalable storytelling
- And now, the tsunami of AI
I’ve launched and advised over 40 startups. Most failed. Some survived. All taught me what works, what fails, and why psychology matters more than product.
CHAPTER 6: The Pattern Seeker
Today, I study human intelligence and artificial intelligence—not as competing forces, but as intertwined destinies.
I don’t believe AI will replace humanity. I believe it will magnify the gaps—between the fast and the slow, the curious and the stagnant.
My obsession now is simple:
“What happens when AI becomes more powerful than the average person can handle?”
My answer:
We’ll need translators.
Bridge builders.
People who speak machine and human.
That’s where I live now.
At the intersection of neuroscience, technology, and storytelling.
Not predicting the future—preparing for it.
Oh man: The Ride Isn’t Over
I didn’t come from a linear path. I came from books, from sweat, from shipping containers, from factory floors, from dorm rooms, from libraries, from Reader’s Digest boxes, and global cities I never expected to live in.
I’ve failed. I’ve pivoted. I’ve started again—more than once.
And every time, I came back wiser, faster, more human.
I’m not a legacy technologist.
I’m wired for wisdom in a digital world—still learning, still building, still riding the wave.
And I’m just getting started.