I always say, 'Be near science and technology, and you will never

“I always say, ‘Be near science and technology, and you will never fail.’” — these are the words of Arunachalam Muruganantham, spoken not as idle breath, but as a torch passed from hand to hand across the ages. In them, we hear the echo of human progress, the fire that Prometheus stole from the heavens, the restless spark that has carried mankind from caves to cities of light. To be near science is to be near truth; to be near technology is to be near the tools that make survival into flourishing. And so Muruganantham reminds us: those who walk in the company of knowledge shall not be defeated, for their steps align with the march of time itself.

Yet this teaching is not born of empty philosophy. It rises from a life of struggle. Muruganantham, a man of humble origins, once labored in poverty in southern India. He witnessed the silent suffering of women who, lacking sanitary pads, endured shame and illness. The world had ignored them, bound by taboo and silence. But he drew close to science and technology, not as a scholar of books but as a seeker of solutions. With makeshift machines, discarded materials, and relentless perseverance, he created low-cost sanitary pads. His invention did not only bring health and dignity—it brought hope, and it uplifted countless lives. Thus his words were forged in the crucible of action, where compassion met invention.

When he says, “Be near science and technology,” he does not mean merely to admire it from afar, as one admires the stars. He means: dwell close to it, touch it, learn from it, and let it shape your path. For the world is like a river in flood—swift, mighty, and merciless. Those who cling to the old ways risk being swept aside. But those who build boats of innovation and oars of knowledge shall cross safely, and even guide others across. To neglect these gifts is to court failure; to embrace them is to ensure endurance.

Consider too the tale of Johannes Gutenberg, the humble craftsman who birthed the printing press. Before his invention, knowledge moved like a caravan across deserts—slow, fragile, easily lost. But with his press, wisdom flew like the wind, multiplying across kingdoms and generations. Empires rose and fell, but the children of Gutenberg’s machine never perished, for they had planted their roots deep in technology. Just as Muruganantham used his simple machine to liberate the silent, Gutenberg’s contraption unlocked the minds of millions. Both prove that proximity to science is proximity to survival, and beyond that, to greatness.

The ancients would have called such wisdom an oracle’s cry. It is not enough to labor blindly, nor enough to pray for fortune. One must arm oneself with the spear of reason, and clothe oneself with the armor of invention. Science is the eye that sees the hidden; technology is the hand that shapes the unseen into the seen. Together, they form the chariot upon which humanity rides into the future. To walk beside them is to walk beside destiny itself.

Let the lesson, then, be carved into the stone of memory: Do not shun the tools of progress. Do not fear the unfamiliar hum of machines, the cryptic language of codes, the dazzling glare of laboratories. Instead, draw near to them. Ask, learn, and use. For every tool of technology is a blade that cuts away ignorance, every law of science a lantern that lights the darkness. Those who embrace them will stand when others fall, and their works shall outlive their breath.

What, then, shall you do, O listener? Seek not to remain a stranger to the age in which you dwell. Learn a skill that links your hands to invention. Let curiosity lead you to books, to workshops, to conversations with those who build. Ask yourself not, “Will I succeed?” but rather, “Am I standing near science and technology?” If you are, success will walk at your side. If you are not, begin the journey now. For as Muruganantham teaches, to be near them is to never fail—and to never fail is to live not as a shadow, but as a flame.