In the past few weeks, monsoon fury has topped news headlines across different parts of India. If you google rain+news, the search throws updates of orange and red alerts in parts of Maharashtra, Gujarat, Karnataka and more. Then there’s the frightful, shrieky voices of television anchors warning us about the dangerously rising levels of Yamuna and Ganga. Not to miss the conspiracy theories and political buck-passing between neighbouring states on releasing excess water.

Growing up in Delhi, I haven’t witnessed the city at such a standstill in the past, with roads completely blocked off because of water-logging. The situation is definitely bad. In fact, climate conditions across the world have been uncertain and alarming.

Both traditional and digital (and social) media are brimming with accounts of lives lost, infrastructural damage, crops destroyed, poor urban planning, homes demolished, et cetera. Average (wo)man is posting photos and videos on social media from their places of work/ study and residence, highlighting the respective perils they are facing.

I still recall the horror of July 26, 2005, one of the first few serious news stories I witnessed as a budding journalist. ‘Mumbai Deluge’, the headline and the corresponding pictures are vividly etched in my brain. The city received 944 mm rain, the eighth-heaviest 24-hour rainfall recorded ever, claiming thousands of lives.

Then too, similar coverage ensued. Eighteen years on, our cities and states still seem unprepared to battle the nature’s wrath. But I’ll leave that debate for another day.

For the average Indian citizen, what does monsoon mean? Baarish or pitter-patter raindrops throw up varied imagery and meaning for different people. A steaming cup of tea paired with hot pakodas, swaying lush green trees, potholes, overflowing sewers, watered-down roads, damp clothes, dripping huts, traffic snarls, careless children jumping in muddy puddles. I’m sure you can think of more!

Ever think of what it means for an average disabled citizen?

Twenty-nine-year-old Payal Bhattad lives in Virar near Mumbai and until recently, she traveled to Wilson College in Mumbai to teach history to undergraduates. The daily commute in the local train would easily take up three hours of her day. And Payal is a totally blind person who uses a white cane to navigate her way across the bustling city. When the heavy raindrops fall on the tin sheds of the train station, Payal is unable to register any other audio cues which otherwise guide her to move forward, backward, left, or right. She cannot hear the murmurs of fellow passengers, or hawkers’ cries, nothing that indicates any familiar direction or territory to her. Once, the roaring rain misled her to the edge of the platform and she fell onto the tracks. And no one noticed or stopped to help her up.

Akash Nimbalkar is a 30-year-old social worker who also lives in Virar. He is a person with low vision, who finds it extremely challenging to wade through knee-deep water on his way to work, using a cane. He is always worried of submerging into an open gutter or losing balance and slipping on the flooded road. His family hesitantly stops him from going to the office every day, as they worry about their visually impaired son getting stranded in the rain.

With wind blowing amidst heavy rain, it’s hard to steadily hold an umbrella, and manage to stay dry. Additionally, there’s personal belongings to juggle with the gamp. Forty-six-year-old Shirin Kheriwala works as a counsellor with a national helpline for the blind. She usually relies on sighted people to help her cross busy main roads and assist with directions. But during the monsoon, everyone is running to find shelter and save themselves. Coming back from work one day, she found herself isolated on the highway. And her umbrella broke. But as they say, necessity is the mother of invention. Shirin folded the umbrella to use as a cane and held her white cane up in the other hand as an indication to the rushing traffic, that she was walking across.

The situation is equally precarious for persons with orthopaedic or locomotor disabilities. It is difficult, sometimes even impossible to use wheelchairs, crutches, or any other assistive aids in such extreme weather conditions.

Saurabh Kohli is a 40-year-old person with multiple sclerosis (MS). Apart from the usual fatigue accompanying MS, he experiences balance issues and severe weakness in his legs. Although he drives a slightly modified automatic car to his office at Amity University in Noida, he uses a walker or wheelchair to get from one place to another. Walking without such assistance is next to impossible for him. He drives around 70 kms every day, but in rainy weather, he avoids stepping out alone. The humid weather conditions also adversely affect his medical condition.

Prosenjit Chakraborty is also a person with multiple sclerosis. He lives in Guwahati, and drives a battery-operated tricycle to run his errands, visit the doctor’s clinic and the hospital for follow-ups. He fears the day when rainwater seeps into the battery of his vehicle and stops it from functioning, leaving him helpless on the road. So far, he’s been lucky!

All these folks, like many other persons with disabilities don’t want to stay home, take leave, or not show up to work because of the additional challenges they face due to their disability, in the monsoon season. Instead, they look for solutions and brace up for perilous times.

But is the administration aware of their difficulties? Are policies being designed and implemented to prevent or tackle such hazardous situations facing approximately 2.68 crore people?

And what about the fourth pillar of democracy? Why doesn’t the media focus on reporting issues and accounts of persons with disabilities who have equal rights as citizens of India? Before raging another debate on urban development woes, climate change, or disaster management, the media should understand and include the stories of millions of overlooked disabled stakeholders.

Wondering why MxMIndia publishes a disability advocacy column? Well, we strongly feel that the media can dramatically transform the world of persons with disabilities. And this series can help bring forth issues that the media must champion to create a truly inclusive and accessible India. To write this column, we invited Shruti Pushkarna, a former journalist who is now a disability inclusion advocate based in New Delhi. Her views here are personal. To access the archives of her 75-plus columns, please visit: https://www.mxmindia.com/category/ columns/shruti-pushkarna/