Beyond ‘divyangjan’, ‘sabka saath’ rhetoric, India is a country of barriers for the disabled

Jimmy* is 19, studying at a government college in Nagpur, dealing with Charcot–Marie–Tooth (CMT) disease, a degenerative nerve disorder that weakens the limbs. On campus, there’s a buggy service meant for disabled students. But it either arrives late, or not at all. 

Ramps exist, but the main one has a raised cement ridge in the middle, “a ramp that defeats the purpose of a ramp”. Lifts work “if they feel like it”. Braille signages are missing. Basic circulation paths are narrow, uneven, or simply impractical for wheelchair users. The distance between his department and hostel is roughly a kilometre. On paper, easily walkable. In practice, he often depends on friends with bicycles. On many days, he said he has to wait until someone remembers.

“I hate relying on people,” he said. “But I don’t have a choice."

According to Jimmy, leaving the city is a struggle too. The railway station has no escalators or lifts. The ramps are steep enough that a wheelchair needs to be physically pushed by another person. Jimmy told me that he walks with a rollator. He hands it to someone else, climbs holding the railing and hopes his foot doesn’t slip.

Once, boarding a train, he nearly fell into the gap between the platform and the coach because even the trains are not designed for someone who can't climb on three vertical steps. “Assistance is available,’ he said dryly. “But only if the person shows up.”

All this despite being in a city and studying at a public-funded institution – the kind that receives money for accessibility through the Scheme for Implementation of the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act (SIPDA). A law that requires all public and private buildings, transport, and information systems to be made accessible.

But funds under the Act have lapsed unspent. While India’s total expenditure has swelled by two-thirds in just five years, the disability budget has grown thinner. In four consecutive years, the Centre released only Rs 354.21 crore out of the Rs 851.66 crore of its annual disability budget. And of the released amount, significant portions remained unutilised. 

In 2022-23, 72 percent of SIPDA funds lapsed. In 2024–25, by December, only 25 percent of the disability budget had actually been spent. Pension given to disabled individuals remains stuck at Rs 300 per month for all disabled adults less than 80. 

The budget mirage and an attitudinal problem

From 2020–21 to 2023–24, budget data shows that the actual central spending was much lesser than the annual SIPDA budget, with the largest single-year lapse being 72.7 percent in 2022–23. In 2020-21, the revised estimate shrunk by Rs 148.07 crore (58.9 percent of the budgetary estimate), in 2021–22, by Rs 101.33 crore (48.3 percent of BE), in 2022–23, by Rs 174.8 crore (72.7 percent of BE), and in 2023–24, by Rs 73.21 crore (48.8 percent of BE). And by December 2024, only 25 percent of the 2024–25 budget had been spent.

The data from the union government’s annual report of the department of empowerment of persons with disabilities tells us that over four years, only 41.6 percent of the total budgeted amount was released, and even less was spent on the ground.

On this World Disability Day, where the theme is fostering disability inclusive societies for advancing social progress, India appears to have a severe lack of will.

Dr Nidhi Singhal, director of research and training at Action for Autism, a non-profit that works on autism, claimed the government’s attitudinal failure is bigger than its infrastructural one. Having been part of training efforts for government personnel, she claimed public staffers and security personnel at government facilities lack basic training.  

‘There are two systems,” she said. ‘The concrete one of budgets, schemes, infrastructure. And the attitudinal one – our collective imagination of disability.” She pointed to health insurance for persons with disabilities. India has one government scheme, Niramaya, with “barely Rs 1-2 lakh cover”. Private insurers either refuse mental health and neurodevelopmental conditions citing “pre-existing” clauses or vanish at payout time, she said. “Even families who can afford proper insurance don’t have the option.”

Dr Singhal recounted institutions where children are still restrained, tied, or burdened with sandbags and stones stuffed into schoolbags so they “don’t run”. Parents in rural or hyper-poor settings often restrain children not out of cruelty but because they cannot afford to chase a wandering child while working for survival. 

The infrastructure gap

Dr Priyanshu, a doctor with CMT himself, said that “people don’t treat disabled people as people”. “They treat us as burdens to manage, symbols to pity, or something divine and distant.”

The Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016, had replaced the earlier 1995 Act and expanded the recognition of disabilities from 7 to 21 categories, including autism, cerebral palsy, muscular dystrophy, and multiple disabilities. But according to the doctor, there is no national registry for CMT. There are no official numbers, meaning no clinical trials, no mapping and no genetic records either, he said. 

This is significant because of contra-indicated drugs – medicines commonly prescribed for other conditions but harmful for people with CMT because their nerves are fragile and these drugs create adverse, sometimes harmful symptoms for people with CMT, he said. For example, a routine antibiotic can worsen muscle weakness. Some anesthetic drugs can trigger severe complications. Even certain steroids can accelerate damage.

In a country with no registry, how does a doctor know what not to prescribe?

According to Dr Priyanshu, there’s an equipment problem too. CMT patients often need carbon-fibre ankle-foot orthosis – lightweight braces that maintain balance and mobility. These braces are standard in developed countries. In India, public hospitals still manufacture calipers designed in the polio era, he said. 

There’s the issue of data too. WHO estimates that around 15 percent of the world’s population lives with some form of disability. Meanwhile, the Government of India officially claims just over 2 percent of Indians are disabled.

Despite years of policy, inclusion lags behind. The Department of Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities launched PM-Daksh – a portal to connect persons with disabilities to prospective employers. But an inclusion index released on Wednesday by HR and DEI firm Marching Sheep has reportedly highlighted a crucial gap. According to the index, covering 876 organisations across 59 sectors, there was less than 1 percent PwD representation in listed Indian companies, with 37.9 percent having zero permanent PwD employees despite rising disclosures.

Meanwhile, private hospitality, pressured by customer reviews, seems to respond to disability more readily than national policy. This reporter tried a basic check of population awareness about disability on the website TripAdvisor, and filtered all listed Delhi hotels for wheelchair access. It turns out nearly 5.68 percent of privately owned hotels and stays – more than double the government’s 2 percent figure – have disability access for their patrons.

Newslaundry sent a questionnaire to the Department of Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities – the central agency responsible for addressing the issues of persons with disabilities in India. This copy will be updated if a response is received.

Last year, PM Narendra Modi had said the government was committed to building an inclusive India for “divyangjan”. But until the basic infrastructure keeps pace with the law, the country’s disabled citizens will continue to navigate a system that acknowledges them only intermittently.

*Name changed to protect privacy

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