Sajad Paul
In a society that prides itself on constitutional morality, social justice, and equality, the continued marginalisation of persons with disabilities in Jammu & Kashmir stands as a silent but powerful indictment of our collective failure. While able-bodied citizens move freely through schools, offices, courts, hospitals, and markets, thousands of disabled individuals remain trapped behind barriers physical, social, economic, and administrative constructed not by fate, but by neglect. Disability in Jammu & Kashmir is not merely a medical condition; it has become a social disadvantage, an administrative inconvenience, and an ignored human rights issue. Despite the existence of strong laws, including the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016, disabled persons continue to be treated as second-class citizens, denied opportunities that are routinely available to the able-bodied majority. The Indian Constitution guarantees equality before law and equal protection of laws. The RPWD Act, 2016 further strengthens this promise by recognising disability as a rights issue rather than a matter of charity. It mandates non-discrimination, accessibility, inclusive education, employment reservations, healthcare, and social security. Yet in Jammu & Kashmir, these promises remain largely confined to government notifications and policy documents. On the ground, disabled persons struggle every day for basic access to buildings, to services, to dignity. The central question is not whether laws exist. They do. The real question is why are they not implemented? Education is the foundation of empowerment, but for many disabled children in Jammu & Kashmir, it is the first gate that remains firmly shut. Government schools often lack ramps, accessible toilets, tactile paths, or assistive learning tools. Teachers are rarely trained in inclusive education, and special educators are in short supply. Private schools, despite being legally bound, frequently deny admission to children with disabilities, citing “lack of facilities” or “inability to cope.”
Such refusals amount to direct discrimination, yet accountability is rare. As a result, many disabled children either drop out early or never enter the education system at all. This early exclusion sets the stage for lifelong dependency and marginalisation. Employment is not just a source of income—it is a source of dignity. The RPWD Act mandates a 4% reservation for persons with benchmark disabilities in government jobs. However, in Jammu & Kashmir, this reservation is often poorly implemented, inadequately advertised, or adjusted in ways that dilute its impact. Recruitment processes are frequently inaccessible. Examination centres lack facilities. Job roles are arbitrarily declared “unsuitable” for disabled candidates, reflecting outdated and prejudiced thinking. The private sector fares no better. There is little incentive or enforcement to encourage inclusive hiring. As a result, qualified disabled youth remain unemployed or underemployed, regardless of merit. A walk through most government offices, courts, hospitals, and educational institutions in Jammu & Kashmir reveals a harsh truth: they are not built for disabled citizens. Steps without ramps, narrow doorways, inaccessible washrooms, absence of elevators, and poorly designed public transport make movement a daily ordeal.
“Disabled persons in Jammu & Kashmir face persistent exclusion from social and decision-making spheres, severely impacting their mental health and dignity. The text asserts that true justice is only possible when society shifts from a lens of “special treatment” to one of equal rights and agency, framing disability inclusion as a critical test of the region’s moral and constitutional integrity.”
Digital governance platforms, increasingly essential for accessing services, are often incompatible with screen readers or assistive technologies. Accessibility is not a luxury; it is a legal right. When infrastructure excludes, it sends a clear message: you are not expected to participate. Disabled persons require accessible and affordable healthcare, including rehabilitation services. Yet specialised rehabilitation centres, physiotherapy units, speech therapy, and occupational therapy services are scarce in Jammu & Kashmir. Many hospitals are physically inaccessible, forcing patients to rely on others even for basic medical consultations. Rural disabled individuals face even greater hardship, often travelling long distances for services that should be available locally. Social welfare schemes for disabled persons exist, but the financial assistance provided is grossly inadequate. Disability pensions are often too low to meet even basic living expenses, let alone support independence or medical needs. Delayed disbursements, complex verification processes, and bureaucratic hurdles further alienate beneficiaries. Welfare, instead of empowering, becomes a reminder of neglect. One of the most troubling aspects of disability rights in Jammu & Kashmir is administrative indifference. Advisory boards, district committees, and monitoring mechanisms mandated by law are either non-functional or ineffective.
Beyond policy failures lies an even deeper problem: social attitudes. Disability is still viewed through the lens of pity, charity, or burden. Disabled persons are often excluded from decision-making, social gatherings, and community leadership. This stigma affects mental health, self-esteem, and social participation. True inclusion cannot be achieved unless society recognises disabled persons as equal citizens with agency, capability, and rights. How a society treats its most vulnerable members reflects its moral character. The continued exclusion of persons with disabilities in Jammu & Kashmir is not just a disability issue it is a test of our constitutional commitment, administrative sincerity, and human empathy. Disabled persons are not asking for special treatment. They are asking for equal opportunity, equal access, and equal dignity. Until they receive it, the promise of justice in Jammu & Kashmir will remain incomplete.
(The author a freelancer is a lawyer at Jammu & Kashmir High Court. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the author and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
