CHENNAI: In August, pictures of a hand railing marked with Braille characters in Naples took over social media. This art installation — Follow the Shape by Paolo Puddu — was an attempt to poetically describe the landscape seen from Castel Sant’Elmo to the visually impaired. I first saw this image on a British, visually-impaired YouTuber’s account, who has also introduced me to several aids available in England — tactile markings on pavements, textured currency, and gadgets that empower the blind to perform daily tasks independently. This inspired an Internet deep dive on initiatives for the visually impaired in various countries. Unfortunately, there was very little ‘India’ to be found on these lists.
A 2019 study published by the Journal of Family Medicine and Primary Care places statistics of visually impaired people in India at 62 million. But, has our nation accomplished accessibility for such a sizeable chunk of its population? I spent a day with C Govindakrishnan, a visually impaired person and the founder of Nethrodaya — a self-help organisation for the visually and physically challenged community — to gain perspective about accessibility in a gamut of fields — education, media, tourism and health.
Facing realities
It was a rather pleasant day, skies stained grey with the residue of rain when we entered the contrastingly bright campus of Nethrodaya, welcomed by a wall lathered in vivid colours and inspiring quotes. We were seated in a waiting area before being warmly greeted by Govindakrishnan, who wasted no time to introduce us to ignored realities. “There is a lot of tokenism when it comes to accessibility in India,” he began. “For example, cash counters and screening machines in banks could have audio features, but there are no such initiatives yet. Some ATMs have these but there need to be many more.
Another instance is that of the scribes assigned to us for examinations, who cannot be qualified in our subject. We prepare for months and are trying to prove ourselves, but many scribes lack expertise and competence and tend to make spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. There is concern that a qualified scribe might write our answers; it’s moral policing of sorts...For us to use computers, we require special software called Jaws. But, India only has one distributor so it is unaffordable. For this, the government needs to take steps to make it more accessible. We have IAS, IFS, IPS; we also need an IDS or Indian Disability Service. This person would be involved in policymaking and formulating schemes. Right now, some decision-makers have little idea of the realities; we need one of us to be in such a position,” he opined.
The conversation continued as he guided us through the facility. The first thing that we noticed on the tour were the tactile markings laid through the tiles — different marks labelling the corridor and entrances. We passed by a computer lab, gym, library, food hall and study room and we were surprised — perhaps, our own ignorance is to be blamed — at the self-sufficiency showcased by everyone to carry on their daily tasks. In fact, we were informed that even the maintenance of the living area was a responsibility taken by the residents.
New or old, every member’s name was instantly on Govindakrishnan’s tongue; he mentions that the institute is his passion and a good day would be spent productively here. However, this self-reliance is more a reflection of their dedication than our society’s achievement. Some daily tasks are still demanding, especially in public settings. “Toilets in India are still not friendly for the visually impaired. In Scandinavian countries, there is technology activated with a switch that makes a noise from the direction of a commode to guide a person. Here, we have to work with our touch. It is difficult with Indian toilets, where we have to get quite near or touch the area with our feet to get an idea. With Western ones, however, we get a feel of the knob and flush the toilet. The sound then guides us,” said Govindakrishnan, concluding the tour.
Fighting gender bias
It was then noon and time for him to get on with his work. On most days, his mornings begin with a hot water and lime concoction, followed by a walk and daily duties. But, sometimes, when he has some time off, he enjoys watching movies, often with his family. But, above all, it is the beachside that he craves. “I love the sounds and the space,” he said. On Monday, however, there were meetings to be attended. Applicants for Nethrodaya streamed into his office one by one and to each, he declared, “No mobiles allowed.” Upon asking the reason, he explained, “If there is any fraternisation between the male and female students, the parents tend to pull the girls out of education to get them married. The boys’ parents tend to counsel them, but the women do not receive this luxury.” We had not considered disparity within the community, so we were shocked when he added that blind women have a much harder time finding a partner, while men are accepted more easily.
When the meetings came to a close and we had some time on our hands, he passed us a book he had received as a gift and asked us to read to him. “Good vibes, Good Life by Vex King,” the narration began. After a quick read of the summary and index, he lamented that he hadn’t found an audio version of the book yet. “Several books are just in printed format. There should be a government mandate for publishers to release books in audio form as well,” he said, divulging other inaccessible trends in media. “In Tamil movies, all the men dub in their voice but seven-eight actresses (those who do not speak Tamil) are dubbed in one voice.
I understand that they are not all South Indian and need to survive the industry, but the bare minimum to do is assign different voice actors. We cannot differentiate between them. Furthermore, We also need audio-descriptive movies. Certain scenes have no dialogues, relying heavily on visual communication. You have the luxury of seeing the city’s lights, buildings and cars in a scene, we are deprived.” But, how would audio description work? “For instance, in a scene where the hero returns to a city, it would say ‘The hero enters the city; he walks down. The city is decorated, bubbling with energy. There is a young lady near the lamp post, she is crying...It is all about the imagery, like a John Keats poem,” he recited. It was right about lunchtime then and we proceeded to his house for a delicious lunch prepared by his wife, Usha.
Not without each other
At lunch (a spread of keerai sambar, rice and appalam), it was endearing to notice how everything Govindakrishnan reached out for, would be ready for him without asking. “She treats me like a king,” he giggled. The couple had met as co-workers at The Banyan where a professional relationship slowly gave way to intimacy. But falling in love was not the happy ending they had hoped for. Prospects of their marriage were opposed by both families. “Her family was concerned because of my Malayali heritage and disability (and the notion that blind people give birth to blind children), and mine, because of her caste (she belongs to the Dalit community). For an entire year into our marriage, we did not receive support. As our relationship bloomed, so did their support. Now, my mother-in-law treats me like her son,” he exclaimed. “Usha is my oxygen. I breathe through her.”
Twenty-two years and two children later, the couple still work as a team. Usha takes responsibility of all the grocery and clothes shopping while Govindakrishnan accompanies her. She picks out all his clothes, and he is ecstatic when he receives a compliment on her choice. She also takes up the kitchen at Nethrodaya, when no one is available to cook, he says proudly as they shoot each other a knowing look. He adds that some days (rather seldom), he helps out Usha by cutting vegetables, but when it comes to food, he enjoys exploring organic food served at restaurants.
In familiar settings
After lunch, we travelled to Broadway, where Govindakrishnan met up with the Inner Wheel Club of Chennai Golden Sun that presented bright blue hand carts to three financially dependent families with visually impaired members, in the hopes to kickstart their business. The hour-long ride to the location gave us a lot of time to exchange ideas and hobbies. As an Illaiyaraja song came to life in the background, he tapped his fingers to the rhythm, bursting into conversation about his favourite music and beloved Tamil actors.
The event was outside a cycle-making warehouse at the end of a narrow lane riddled with puddles. While we hopped, skipped, and meandered through the path, Govindakrishnan was confidently navigating his way with some help from a friend. We would realise later that this confidence is a result of years of vehicles rolling over his toes, hurt legs and pain. But at the end, “you get used to it. Then, come what may...” Even more shocking than his navigating skills on the street was his directional awareness in the car. Despite his challenges, he was able to guide the driver accurately through the city’s maze of roads.
“There is a lot of intuition and you understand the topography of a place after some time.” Following Govindakrishnan’s directions, the driver took us to Sri Arunodayam, a shelter for abandoned children with mental disabilities, to meet his close friend Iyyappan Subramaniyan. Govindakrishnan’s ability to strike up and hold a conversation is unmissable. Whether in the comfort of Nethrodaya, a charity event or a friends’ house, he never runs out of words. “When I have time off, I love talking to people. I reach out to my friends and connect with them, when I can,” he shares. The next hour too was full of pleasant conversation, relived memories and the aroma of tea, after which, we got the opportunity to meet with the children.
We ended the day a much more informed person; with a better idea of life for a visually challenged person. However, it must not be forgotten that this is one person’s experience and not all receive such support and help from society. Matters turn for the worse in villages, where the count of people exceed the resources multifold, says Govindakrishnan. Let’s encourage a change this World Sight Day, beginning with ourselves. We may not single-handedly transform the shortcomings of society, but we can begin by bridging the gaps in our knowledge of the community.
A look at numbers
1. The Health and Family Welfare Department website of Tamil Nadu claims that four out of every 1,000 are blind.
2. Out of 22 government special schools, 10 cater to visually impaired students, states the website of the Commissionerate for Welfare of the Differently Abled.
3. one percent reservation is awarded to people with visual disabilities in posts and services under the Government of India.
4. In 2014, the RBI asked for all new commercial bank ATMs to have audible instructions and Braille keypads.
5. Saksham Trust in Noida entered the Limca Book of Records in 2019 for audio describing the maximum number of films in India. Currently, this number stands over 40 films
Taking charge
Showing us a picture of his first day, Govindakrishnan proudly reminds us of how he built Nethrodaya from one room and `80 in 2002 before which, he was a project officer at The Banyan. “People would refuse to give me work then. But Vandana (founder) was the first person bold enough to give me that responsibility. I was in charge of 90 mentally ill women.”