<p>As I write this column, I’m at the International Purple Fest, Goa, a first-of-its-kind intervention to celebrate the capabilities and talents of persons with disabilities (PwD). When I first arrived in Panaji for this fest on October 8, it felt like stepping into another world – a world that didn’t merely celebrate diversity, but wove it into every seam of its programming. In its promotional materials, the festival promised universal design, tactile signage, sign language interpretation, “sensory rooms”, and accessible transport. Those promises were not mere PR – I saw many of them come alive.</p>.<p>Purple Conventions – conferences on specific issues within the disability rights domain, such as access to justice or enhancing rural livelihood opportunities – are a highlight. Some of the moments at the event stayed with me.</p>.<p>In a session organised for State Disability Commissioners, we heard from Parliamentarians with disabilities in Australia and Armenia who spoke about their extraordinarily difficult, and successful, journeys. After a conference, a disability rights activist told me that the zila parishad office in her district does not have a wheelchair-friendly toilet – a pointer to how far we have to go to make accessibility a living reality for our disabled citizenry. I visited the prototype of an accessible bank branch set up by the Union Bank of India, featuring a talking ATM, an accessible credit card, and a point-of-sale device.</p>.<p>In a talk I gave with colleagues at the Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy, on making the built environment accessible for PwD, we argued that local building bye-laws must incorporate accessibility norms, so that permits can be withheld for buildings that are not born accessible and penalties can be handed down, where required. One member in the audience asked: “Isn’t what you are proposing a case of the tail wagging the dog – in a country where no bus is wheelchair-accessible, few schools or hospitals are accessible, what is the purpose of this presentation?” I disagreed with the premise of his question and argued that these utilities are inaccessible because when they were permitted to ply or occupy a public space, no questions on accessibility were asked.</p>.<p>Purple Fest is audacious, and in that audacity lie both its strengths and its challenges. Strengths first: It is rare to see such a comprehensive approach to accessibility in the form of a festival. Goa has tried to manifest a model. The event brought to the public gaze the 21 disabilities enumerated in the RPwD Act, 2016. It didn’t just place PwD on stage; it made them interlocutors. The ‘Purple Think Tank’, with dialogues on inclusive education, accessibility of the built environment, and political participation, underscored that disability discourse is intersectional. Following Goa’s lead, many states, such as Maharashtra and Jammu and Kashmir, and the Rashtrapati Bhavan, have organised their versions.</p>.<p>On the weaknesses, three months ago, the Disability Rights Association of Goa argued that the Fest is not addressing the needs of those at the grassroots and put forward a 7-point programme of action for the Government to pursue. While these festivals are important, they must not come at the cost of meeting the everyday needs of PwD – a well-paying job, access to assistive technology and rehabilitation support, quality education, a social safety net for those out of the workforce, and access to justice when rights are violated.</p>.<p>On returning to my hotel one evening, as I tried to book a cab to go to a party, I realised that the Goa Miles app, the only viable solution to book cabs in Goa, has an inaccessible captcha on the first page, creating a forced dependency for me, a blind person, on a sighted colleague to book a cab. I felt a jolt: festivals can be islands, and the broader city and all its infrastructure must, over time, become accessible too.</p>.<p>If Purple Fest is to become more than a marquee event, its legacy must extend, influencing local building bye-laws, procurement procedures, school curricula, and public infrastructure. The feel-good factor created by the event is no doubt important in creating optimism in those tasked with the daunting mandate of reckoning with an ableist world. But we must realise that creating a more accessible India is a daily affair, not something that can be outsourced to an annual spectacle. I came home carrying memories of voices, of exchanges, of discomforts that provoke growth. I suspect Purple Fest will always keep me looking over my shoulder to ensure that our everyday practices match the reality that the fest envisions.</p>.<p><em>The writer is a practising lawyer with expertise in disability rights and IP law, and is co-founder of Mission Accessibility. He wears more hats than he can himself sometimes count.</em></p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>
<p>As I write this column, I’m at the International Purple Fest, Goa, a first-of-its-kind intervention to celebrate the capabilities and talents of persons with disabilities (PwD). When I first arrived in Panaji for this fest on October 8, it felt like stepping into another world – a world that didn’t merely celebrate diversity, but wove it into every seam of its programming. In its promotional materials, the festival promised universal design, tactile signage, sign language interpretation, “sensory rooms”, and accessible transport. Those promises were not mere PR – I saw many of them come alive.</p>.<p>Purple Conventions – conferences on specific issues within the disability rights domain, such as access to justice or enhancing rural livelihood opportunities – are a highlight. Some of the moments at the event stayed with me.</p>.<p>In a session organised for State Disability Commissioners, we heard from Parliamentarians with disabilities in Australia and Armenia who spoke about their extraordinarily difficult, and successful, journeys. After a conference, a disability rights activist told me that the zila parishad office in her district does not have a wheelchair-friendly toilet – a pointer to how far we have to go to make accessibility a living reality for our disabled citizenry. I visited the prototype of an accessible bank branch set up by the Union Bank of India, featuring a talking ATM, an accessible credit card, and a point-of-sale device.</p>.<p>In a talk I gave with colleagues at the Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy, on making the built environment accessible for PwD, we argued that local building bye-laws must incorporate accessibility norms, so that permits can be withheld for buildings that are not born accessible and penalties can be handed down, where required. One member in the audience asked: “Isn’t what you are proposing a case of the tail wagging the dog – in a country where no bus is wheelchair-accessible, few schools or hospitals are accessible, what is the purpose of this presentation?” I disagreed with the premise of his question and argued that these utilities are inaccessible because when they were permitted to ply or occupy a public space, no questions on accessibility were asked.</p>.<p>Purple Fest is audacious, and in that audacity lie both its strengths and its challenges. Strengths first: It is rare to see such a comprehensive approach to accessibility in the form of a festival. Goa has tried to manifest a model. The event brought to the public gaze the 21 disabilities enumerated in the RPwD Act, 2016. It didn’t just place PwD on stage; it made them interlocutors. The ‘Purple Think Tank’, with dialogues on inclusive education, accessibility of the built environment, and political participation, underscored that disability discourse is intersectional. Following Goa’s lead, many states, such as Maharashtra and Jammu and Kashmir, and the Rashtrapati Bhavan, have organised their versions.</p>.<p>On the weaknesses, three months ago, the Disability Rights Association of Goa argued that the Fest is not addressing the needs of those at the grassroots and put forward a 7-point programme of action for the Government to pursue. While these festivals are important, they must not come at the cost of meeting the everyday needs of PwD – a well-paying job, access to assistive technology and rehabilitation support, quality education, a social safety net for those out of the workforce, and access to justice when rights are violated.</p>.<p>On returning to my hotel one evening, as I tried to book a cab to go to a party, I realised that the Goa Miles app, the only viable solution to book cabs in Goa, has an inaccessible captcha on the first page, creating a forced dependency for me, a blind person, on a sighted colleague to book a cab. I felt a jolt: festivals can be islands, and the broader city and all its infrastructure must, over time, become accessible too.</p>.<p>If Purple Fest is to become more than a marquee event, its legacy must extend, influencing local building bye-laws, procurement procedures, school curricula, and public infrastructure. The feel-good factor created by the event is no doubt important in creating optimism in those tasked with the daunting mandate of reckoning with an ableist world. But we must realise that creating a more accessible India is a daily affair, not something that can be outsourced to an annual spectacle. I came home carrying memories of voices, of exchanges, of discomforts that provoke growth. I suspect Purple Fest will always keep me looking over my shoulder to ensure that our everyday practices match the reality that the fest envisions.</p>.<p><em>The writer is a practising lawyer with expertise in disability rights and IP law, and is co-founder of Mission Accessibility. He wears more hats than he can himself sometimes count.</em></p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>