Dr. T. Jeevaraj

If you have come this far, then perhaps these questions interest you too.

I am a medical doctor. I trained in clinical medicine and have since worked in public health information systems, digital health programme development, and health informatics. I hold qualifications in MBBS, MCGP, and MSc in Biomedical Informatics, and I am currently an MD Trainee in Health Informatics at the Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo.

Much of my working life takes place inside systems — health data platforms, AI applications, governance frameworks. I believe these tools can genuinely strengthen healthcare. I have spent years building them and advocating for them. This is not a website written by someone who fears technology.

But over the years, a different question began to interest me.

What happens when the habits we develop around technology begin to shape the way we think, remember, grieve, decide, and relate to one another? Not through dramatic transformation, but through small, almost invisible changes that accumulate quietly over time?

After years of refining prompts, analysing data, and managing digital systems for long hours each day, I started noticing something. The way a conversation with a friend became a scheduling calculation. The way a question to a child started to sound like a query. The way certainty was borrowed from a screen rather than felt from within. The way a person could spend a decade optimising everything at work, and then discover that grief — which does not optimise — had been quietly pre-empted along with everything else.

These observations did not fit into clinical papers or technical reports. They needed a different form. So I began to write.

Before writing in English, I published books and essays in Tamil on history and archaeology — rooted in a long interest in memory, place, and the way the past persists inside ordinary life. That background has shaped how I approach these newer questions. I tend to think about technology the way an archaeologist thinks about artefacts: as evidence of how people actually live, not how they are supposed to.

This website is not a technology blog. It is not a medical column. It is a collection of stories and reflections from someone who works with intelligent systems every day and is still trying to understand what they are quietly doing to ordinary human life.

I write here between clinical work, research, and training — slowly, and when time allows. The writing grows from lived experience rather than intention. It does not try to solve the question it raises. It tries to name it clearly enough that you recognise it in your own life.

If that interests you, I am glad you are here.