Tag: Human experience

Amidst the sweltering lanes of a Delhi slum, where the sun feels merciless and the air itself seems scorched, life unfolds with harsh lessons. 

This is where I grew up — navigating the world with dyslexia, dyspraxia (a disorder that affects coordination and movement), and a stammer, while also serving as a lifeline for my chronically ill mother. We survived domestic violence, yes, but today we are facing an equal challenge: surviving a world that seems indifferent to its most vulnerable. 

Try and feel them

You hear about heat waves in headlines, but can you feel them? Have you felt that suffocating weight in the air, that oppressive sense of panic when you realize there is no water, no relief, and no escape? For us, enduring a Delhi heatwave in a makeshift home was like being slowly roasted alive. I remember one particular day when the temperature soared, making it unbearable to breathe. Our tiny room felt like an oven; the walls radiated heat, and the ceiling fans offered no respite. Each day was a battle against an invisible enemy, as my mother’s health crumbled and my own challenges flared up.

Finally, after my mother received care from the government hospital, I vividly remember that some of the medicine her doctor prescribed required cold storage, and at that time we had no refrigerator. I had to ask the local pharmacy for help.

In the unrelenting heat,  my dyspraxia intensified, turning even simple tasks into exhausting struggles. One prominent dimension of dyspraxia that becomes increasingly noticeable during this period is sensory overload. Typically, I struggle with processing sensory information, including touch, taste, and sound. However, the combination of intense heat and constant sensory stimulation during the summer significantly amplifies these difficulties.

As temperatures rise, I find it increasingly difficult to regulate my body temperature, which leads to feelings of restlessness, fatigue, and irritability. The discomfort of excessive sweating can also interfere with my ability to hold objects or maintain a firm grip, further intensifying the coordination challenges that are already a part of living with dyspraxia.

Hot and bothered, you are a statistic

The time I rushed my mother to the emergency room during a particularly brutal heatwave, getting to the hospital was a nightmare. Public healthcare was our only option, and the system was stretched to its breaking point. The waiting room was packed, and as I stammered through my explanation, I felt the impatient stares of those around me. The doctors and nurses tried, but they were drowning in a sea of patients. The helplessness I felt when I stammered while trying to explain my mother’s deteriorating condition was overwhelming. In those sterile hallways, you’re not a person — you’re a number, a problem to be processed. It’s a kind of invisibility that’s hard to describe and even harder to live through.

Here’s the painful reality: if our healthcare infrastructure can’t account for the heightened vulnerabilities of disabled people, we’re not just failing, we’re actively contributing to needless suffering. Accessibility isn’t about “nice-to-haves” like ramps or braille signs — it’s about life and death. It’s about creating safe, resilient spaces where people can seek care without being pushed to the margins, or to their own limits. If healthcare can’t adapt to the reality of climate change, then the most vulnerable will continue to pay the price.

We were overheated. Statistics are cold. They can tell you about the number of people affected, but they don’t make you feel it. Stories like ours bring urgency and humanity to these issues. When you look past the numbers, you see people fighting battles that few even realize exist.

From struggle to action: the birth of Green Disability

Out of this experience, I realized that we needed to make our voices heard in the climate conversation. That’s when I decided to start Green Disability, a grassroots initiative for climate action that includes the needs of people with disabilities. Today, our community has grown to over 600 members, with our newsletter reaching over 7,000 people. We’re not just an organization, but a movement, and our message is simple: the climate crisis affects everyone, and you can’t talk about sustainability without talking about accessibility.

We’re working on documenting the lives of disabled people in climate-vulnerable areas, sharing their struggles and their resilience. We’re also simplifying complex research, turning data into stories that resonate with our community and inspire action. This isn’t just about raising awareness. It’s about creating real change.

Climate justice is empty without disability justice

We’re one of the world’s largest minorities, a major minority! Yet we’re often overlooked in climate solutions. But we won’t be ignored anymore. Disability justice and climate justice go hand in hand. 

If we’re serious about tackling the climate crisis, then people with disabilities must be part of the climate conversation.