Tag: shruti pushkarna

By Shruti Pushkarna

 

I almost didn’t write this piece. In fact my mind was totally blank. No ideas. Zilch. Then I wondered to myself, this column is all about voicing issues, it’s not like there’s a dearth of those. The challenge is not the lack of ideas or issues, but my brain’s selfish need to focus on personal problems.

 

At this point I’m overwhelmed with taking care of my Covid-positive parents. I maybe convinced that there are no bigger problems in the world. But the truth is no one cares. No one outside of my tiny family bubble cares at all. Everyone is consumed with their own life hassles.

 

To be honest, these past months, I haven’t paid much attention to what a caretaker goes through when someone in the family tests positive for this highly contagious virus. This when I work in the disability space where there are enough advocacy campaigns about the society not giving two hoots about caretakers!

 

We are an inherently self-centered lot. We only stop to think and care when things hit us personally. At all other times, we sit and speculate from the outside. We pass judgement on matters related to disability, mental health, suicides, caste wars, love jihad, economic crisis, media stances et cetera. Worst is we don’t even bat an eyelid for most things that don’t jeopardize our comfort zones.

 

Braving through these hard times, locked up in home quarantine, I’ve had some time for self-analysis. Surprisingly I find myself guilty of not empathizing enough with other caretakers. I haven’t thought of their struggles, mental and physical stress in coping with the patients’ medical condition as well as frustrations. I thought growing up with a chronically ill parent had trained me to deal with situations. I believed that I could handle it all, until today.

 

I realise that most of us remain ignorant towards another’s vulnerability. We never know enough about the other side of the story until we have lived it ourselves. Does that mean we can express empathy only if we’ve faced a similar hardship?

 

Probably not. By definition ‘empathy’ means the ability to imagine another’s perspective or feeling. Having faced difficulty makes it a lot easier to relate to someone in distress. It’s like adding bonus points to your compassion quotient.

 

Going by the sheer size and diversity of our population, (especially variance in the socio-economic backgrounds), people face gazillion problems daily. That should sensitise the society into becoming more empathetic. Sounds wonderfully utopian.

 

Except in real life, the focus seems to be on ‘I, me, myself’. I have contracted coronavirus and I have to be isolated. Even though I have no symptoms, I have to stay home for fourteen days. I am so frustrated that I can’t go out. Do we consider the impact of our individual choices on others? What happens if I don’t wear a mask, if I don’t maintain personal hygiene or social distancing, if I don’t follow the advisory to avoid infecting someone else?

 

I thought it was important to educate people about disability and other causes, in order to alter people’s mindsets so they become more inclusive. But is that really enough? Is the lack of awareness the only reason for our apathy towards vulnerable sections of the population?

 

Problem is not just ignorance, but also about being inconsiderate. This also reflects in our leadership, as much as it does in our media. Both are constituted of self-absorbed people like you and me. How can we expect media persons to understand, uncover, debate or advocate for issues they don’t care about?

 

Few months ago, there was hope that the pandemic would bring us closer and create a more conducive environment for everyone. It feels as though that ship has sailed.

 

Shruti Pushkarna heads operations of the New Delhi-based Score Foundation where she works as Director-Programmes & Communications. She is a former journalist (part of the founding team of MxMIndia) who has moved full-time to the social sector. Shruti writes for MxMIndia every other Thursday. Her views here are personal. She can be reached via Twitter at @shrutipushkarna

By Shruti Pushkarna

 

There comes a point in life when everyone needs a bit of help. As I write this piece, I am writhing in pain. On any given day, I score myself quite high on the strength quotient when it comes to overcoming challenges, even physical discomfort. But not today. I sought professional help, acknowledging my inability to deal with the situation.

 

People seek support from friends, family and even total strangers at times. We all need assistance, it could be physical, emotional or financial. But despite the universal need, seeking help is often likened to a weakness. It puts the person giving help on a pedestal, patronising the one receiving it.

 

In the case of persons with disabilities, help denotes lifelong dependence, typecasting them as vulnerable lesser humans. The ableist majority draws exclusive bubbles around those who use assistive devices like the white cane, wheelchair, hearing aid, crutches, et cetera. Maybe that’s why most people don’t like to reveal their need for assistance. They’d rather stay at home, hidden away from the mainstream.

 

Just last week, I was listening to two accomplished visually impaired men, narrate adventurous accounts from their respective travelogues. As I heard them recall experiences of paragliding, trekking, museum hopping, both individuals seemed fairly independent in terms of navigating and exploring sites. And yet they both sought help when required. Unapologetically so.

 

It makes me wonder, is it our portrayal through various forms of media that aid and assistance are synonymous with inability and suffering? In aligning dependency with misery, do we reinforce societal stereotypes, further stigmatising disability?

 

Quite possible. Because not only are we victims of limited imagination, we also love to box and label people who appear different in any way.  Their needs seem different from ours, so our egos offer us an automatic upgrade over ‘the other’.

 

This also makes me wonder if we subconsciously dissociate dignity from disability. One may often witness a peculiar insensitivity in the way people offer help. I’ve seen blind individuals being pulled by their clothes, dragged by their arms or forced to sit in a wheelchair in public places. Another common sight is orthopedically impaired being picked up or pushed in a crude manner, their clothes disheveled in the process, with a total disregard for the individual.

 

Coming back to the talk I heard last week. It reminded me of my own travels and so many points where I stopped to ask for assistance. Never did I feel a sense of guilt or shame in doing so. Then why should disabled people be made to feel different on the basis of ‘special needs’?

 

The general public in a cinema hall, a shopping plaza, a restaurant, or an amusement park scoffs at a senior citizen or a disabled person. I’m sure you’ve all seen it at some point. The inherent principle at play being, ‘only the able-bodied are entitled to services, facilities they can access independently.’ Let that sink in.

 

If the disabled or elderly ask for assistance in such places, it’s seen as a burden on the management because the janata is wondering: ‘why are they out of their homes in the first place?’

 

And, no, I’m not making that last part up. Couple of years ago I was out in a fancy mall in the capital city and I tweeted a few pictures pointing out certain inaccessible elements for persons with blindness. I was appalled at one of the common responses to my post, people wanted to know what was a blind person doing outside. Some went a bit further to mock my defence, asking if my own home was designed to accommodate a disabled person. As a matter of fact, it is.

 

But what’s the real issue here? If taking assistance or help of any form can enable larger sections of the population to experience normal life, why shouldn’t they do so? Why are they forced to think of it as currying a favour? Picture a toddler being helped up and down by the parent. How’s that image different in the context of dependence? There is no stigma attached to that depiction because it has been ‘normalised’ in our minds.

 

According to the World Health Organisation, ‘the number of people with disabilities is increasing due to population growth, ageing, emergence of chronic diseases and medical advances that preserve and prolong life, creating overwhelming demands for health and rehabilitation services.’

 

That simply puts more people in the bracket of ‘those seeking help’ in the years to come. People are already experiencing temporary disability due to Covid-19, as some have reported to lose their sense of smell after contracting the virus.

 

Speaking of vulnerability, television news today seems the most helpless. It desperately needs an intervention in form of better content, possibly a new business model, and improved perspectives even. In short, journalism too is crying for help. So why vilify only a select few?

 

Shruti Pushkarna heads operations of the New Delhi-based Score Foundation where she works as Director-Programmes & Communications. She is a former journalist (part of the founding team of MxMIndia) who has moved full-time to the social sector. Shruti writes for MxMIndia every other Thursday. Her views here are personal. She can be reached via Twitter at @shrutipushkarna

 

 

By Shruti Pushkarna

 

Gratitude. Given all that’s been happening around us in the recent times, this is one word I like to begin and end each day with. Because I truly believe, I lead a good life (well, in most parts). In fact, a lot of us do. But somehow we forget and take things for granted. Until something surprises or shocks us into believing otherwise.

 

When I look at news from around the country and the world, it feels depressing. Rapes, drugs, derisive politics, looting, lynching, suicides, untimely deaths, incurable illnesses. We consume all such content on a daily basis, which makes us question our belief in humanity or the intrinsic goodness in people.

 

But this also gives us a chance to pause and wonder, ‘is it really all bad?’ Now before you dismiss this piece as fluff and self-righteous, let me quickly steer your attention towards another word. Awareness.

 

Being aware is different from being informed. I’m well informed that two-thirds of people in India live in poverty, but am I aware of it when I shell out money on unnecessary acquisitions? Probably not.

 

So why am I mouthing these big words? Well for one I can, because it’s my column. But on a humbler note, I want to cite some instances that got me thinking of these expressions in the first place.

 

Today is World Sight Day, an annual observance to draw attention to blindness and vision impairment. Most messaging built around this day is about preventive eye conditions or avoidable blindness. This year’s theme #HopeInSight also advocates for similar ideas. There is a global photography contest for the occasion to highlight the importance of vision and create more awareness about eye health.

 

But does hope in sight somehow imply there is no hope in blindness? I’m intrigued by what eye health really means. Why are we obsessed with the remedial? Clearly there is enough evidence in form of Covid-19 to tell us humans that we cannot predict and prevent everything.

 

I can’t read a book, see the screen or identify someone not too far away, without my high-powered glasses. My sight has consistently deteriorated since I was in Class 3, I think. And after thirty, it kind of plateaued. But is there a guarantee that it will remain stable? No. Would I like to do something about my eye health? Yes. Can I do something about it? I’m afraid not. So I’m outside the whole ‘avoidable blindness’ purview. And so are approximately 63 million people in India.

 

About time, we wake up to this, create awareness about their challenges and show some empathy. The theme should actually be #HopeInVision because sight loss maybe irreversible but vision helps you see through life.

 

I promised a few paras earlier to share some personal experiences. So, I’m going to cut straight to that. Last year in June, my organisation hosted a conference to raise some important issues related to mid-life blindness prevalent in the country and advocate for better support as well as resources for those affected. The one thing that stood out for me was: what is it like to lose a little bit of vision every day? I simply couldn’t fathom the pain or the frustration. One of the speakers, highly qualified, a professor in Delhi University shared with the audience how despite having accepted his disability years ago, it was still hard to adjust to the idea of his eye sight getting a wee bit worse every morning.

 

And that’s when it struck me. Gratitude. People lead tougher lives than we can imagine.

 

A couple of years ago I was in Ahmedabad at the Blind People’s Association, for work. The campus has a unique exhibit, first of a kind in India called ‘Vision in the Dark’. Spread over 2000 square yards, the project was created to sensitise sighted people. What it means to walk, smell, eat, converse and live in pitch darkness.

 

I was thrilled to experience such a zone and just as my guide started reading out instructions, taking away my phone, asking for my health condition, I felt a slight shudder. Of course it didn’t help to know that one of my colleagues quit the tour midway because she panicked. But my curiosity overruled.

 

A few steps into it, my mind began to adjust to the idea of holding a rope/ handrail, feeling things around and most importantly using audio cues to move forward. I passed through a temple, a garden and then I stopped at a bridge. I felt scared, because I didn’t know how steep this bridge was, unless I kept going. And the tour guide played his practiced trick right at that point. He sent out a flurry of confused signals, saying, right, left, up, down, not there, this way, that way…phew!

 

And then it struck me. When was the last time I was really aware what it means for someone to walk through darkness, relying on another’s guidance? I had helped a few strangers and colleagues navigate before, but I always spoke from an ableist visual standpoint, confusing my right with theirs, forgetting to verbally indicate how many steps up or down.

 

In that moment, with total absence of light, I felt aware. To what absence of sight means. To what it feels to stretch your hand out in the dark, groping your way around, hoping your next step won’t land you in a ditch or something worse.

 

Here’s my appeal to everyone and especially my friends in the media on World Sight Day 2020. Blindfold yourself for half an hour and try to accomplish your daily business. I’m sure you’ll sense some of what I did back there.

 

Gratitude and Awareness can be our own lethal combination to destroy ignorance, apathy and narcissism crippling our society.

 

 

Shruti Pushkarna is a former journalist (part of the founding team of MxMIndia) who has moved full-time to the social sector. She heads operations of the New Delhi-based Score Foundation where she works as Director-Programmes & Communications. Shruti writes for MxMIndia every other Thursday. Her views here are personal. She can be reached via Twitter at @shrutipushkarna

 

 

By Shruti Pushkarna

 

I’ve been writing this column for a little over nine months now. I have attempted to state facts, voice certain pertinent issues, identify gaps, highlight the absence of empathy and compassion towards anyone who is labeled as the ‘other’. I’ve even criticised the media for ignoring matters pertaining to persons with disabilities. So I thought it’s a good time to pause and ruminate on my own self. Point the finger inwards for a change.

 

Let’s rewind to 2016.

 

I’m a sighted person. Okay, I wear glasses but they enable me to interact fairly well with the visual environment. So technically I’m not blind. Back then, I knew almost nothing about living life with blindness. It’s safe to say I was ‘blind’ to visually impaired people’s needs, challenges, abilities, their coping mechanisms, their whole persona so to say. I simply viewed them as people with no ‘vision’.

 

In my previous media jobs, I was obsessed with the ‘visual’. As a multimedia journalist, I often conceived stories and ideas in pictures before I could get down to scripting. I took great pride in my ‘design’ sense, in illustrating stories in a graphical form. Basically, I loved playing with pictures, video and fonts.

 

And then I decided to switch sectors and apply my communication abilities to empower persons with blindness. This involved working with visually impaired people, helping them relook at options, also working with the sighted environment, making it more inclusive. Little did I realise that to alter anyone’s life or mindset, foremost I needed to change mine.

 

Before I could start working on outreach and external communication, I had to learn ways of effectively interacting with the internal team which was by and large visually impaired. Stories, ideas, campaigns were all driven by the common belief in the cause but each one of us interpreted (or visualised) it differently. And my personal challenge was not so much in understanding theirs but in articulating mine, sans visuals.

 

I recall one incident from my early days in this job. Our team was involved in the launch of India’s first online accessible library (Sugamya Pustakalaya). It was a huge event in collaboration with the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment and other NGOs working in the domain. I was overseeing the event invites, adverts and an introductory animation film to start the programme.

 

The written script was easy to explain to my seniors (also visually impaired) but I struggled to explain non-textual elements that dominated the screen/ canvas. That was the beginning of my learning process and my first lesson in empathy perhaps. I had to place myself in another’s shoes and talk their language. Of course during the event, I met with an accomplished set of individuals who went about business as usual.

 

Suddenly, after all these years of exposure, I felt limited in my scope of thinking and imagination. I knew there was a lot to learn and more importantly, unlearn. Fully involved with my colleagues and other members of the blind community, I can say, the past four years have taught me quite a bit.

 

Continuing with the optical terminology, my vision has become less ‘foggy’ as I’ve gathered knowledge about the possibilities of a life despite blindness (or any other disability for that matter).

 

I crossed a few stages to reach where I am today. First was disbelief, second was a mix of curiosity and awe, and, finally, it was a state of ‘normalisation’. That’s what we need to arrive at, as a society, as a country known for its diverse population. There is a need to grow out of the habit of ‘othering’, based on what an individual can or cannot do, based on what they look like, based on how they operate in their daily lives, based on how different they are from what fits our definition of ‘normal’.

 

Day before yesterday, I participated in a webinar where one of the speakers spelt out the problem in such succinct terms: “Sighted people are blind too. They cannot see the potential of visually impaired people and so we have to make them see it”.

 

I still have a long way to go. But all I can say is the journey has been absolutely enriching so far. Today, I can somewhat comprehend not only what separates these two worlds but also what can bring them together.

 

Shruti Pushkarna is a former journalist (part of the founding team of MxMIndia) who has moved full-time to the social sector. She heads operations at the New Delhi-based Score Foundation where she works as Director-Programmes & Communications. Shruti writes for MxMIndia every other Thursday. Her views here are personal. She can be reached via Twitter at @shrutipushkarna

 

By Shruti Pushkarna

 

In times ridden with conflicting opinions about almost everything under the sun, I think we can safely agree that Covid-19 has changed how we interact with the environment. And I’m not just referring to the natural surroundings but also the environment where daily professional and social engagements take place.

 

The world is rapidly changing. And yet one thing remains the same. The intrinsic need to validate our existence. In the absence of physical interactions, we still want to be ‘seen’ and ‘heard’.

 

‘Visibility’ is what defines us. And visibility is what we don’t offer to the disabled population of the country. The famous proverb ‘out of sight, out of mind’ is an apt description. Their near-absence in places of employment, education and entertainment have made them non-existent to the ableist majority.

 

The biggest roadblock to inclusion is the lack of access to spaces and services. Inability to access schools, offices, banks, parks, hotels, cinema, shopping malls, et cetera prevents the disabled population from participating in mainstream activities. When coronavirus and the lockdown blocked every citizen’s access to these facilities, alternate forms of functioning emerged.

 

However incongruous it sounds, the pandemic has given hope of ending the marginalisation of persons with disabilities. What seemed illusory three months ago, has become the new normal. Limitations have given way to opportunities. At least that’s how I see it through my ‘glass half-full’ lens.

 

For a working professional, the physical office and the 9-to-5 rote has transformed into a flexi-virtual space. For school and college students, learning and assessments now happen via online classrooms. Training modules are being retailored to suit digital modes of delivery. World Wide Web is the latest hangout for families and friends.

 

With the physical barriers gone, access to technology can make the links in the chain of dependency disappear. Operating remotely, using internet and computer (or a smartphone), opens up job options for people with vision impairment, hearing or speech impairment, orthopaedic or any other form of disability. There are several disabled people employed in content development, finance and legal operations, public relations, IT, academics and so on.

 

Similarly, online classrooms and digital study material can make education accessible for a disabled student equipped with assistive technology. Equal opportunities in education and employment can replace the archaic notions of charity and reservation with a more merit-driven approach to inclusion.

 

Training and skill development programmes offered by NGOs in limited locations, are now available online to disabled people across the country. Travel or accommodation cost is no longer a deterrent.

 

Today, technology offers a wide range of tools that can lessen the burden of educating, training and employing persons with disabilities. And Covid-19 has paved way for technological innovations to drive all aspects of daily living.

 

The Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act 2016 says that the problem is not with the disability per se, but with the environment which is inaccessible. And hence the emphasis on ensuring ‘reasonable accommodation’. This is in line with the historic American Disabilities Act which also states that a lot of the problems with disability are more societal and environmental.

 

Organisations working with the disabled, government bodies, educational institutions as well as the corporate sector need to work together on facilitating access to technology for the disabled population segregated in rural and urban parts of the country.

 

There is also a need to create mass awareness campaigns about the existing forms of assistive technology that enable independent living. The media has the chance to shape a novel tech-savvy image of a person with disability, obliterating the debilitating stereotype.

 

Shruti Pushkarna is a former journalist (part of the founding team of MxMIndia) who has moved full-time to the social sector. She heads operations of the New Delhi-based Score Foundation where she works as Director-Programmes & Communications. She writes for MxMIndia every other Thursday. Her views here are personal. She can be reached via Twitter at @shrutipushkarna