Samaveshan Nagari- The Inclusive Society
Nina sat to watch the final of the IPL cricket match. This year was special. She could watch and ‘hear’ the commentary. The sign language interpretation (SLI) of the IPL was an inclusive enabler. The crowd cheering and chanting their team’s name, the hype of the moment, and the insights from the commentators through the SLI enabled Nina to enjoy the match like any cricket fan.
Her thoughts flew to her book, “Samaveshan Nagari”. Isn’t this what she had described in the book? A world where even the challenged people enjoyed the pleasures and everyday privileges like a normal person.
Nina’s world was touch and light, but no sound. Born deaf, she never knew the melodies of lullabies or the sweet endearments of her doting parents. She basked in her mother’s smile, the warmth of her father’s fingers and the way her little dog wagged its tail and licked her face when it saw her.
By the time she was ten, Nina had learned to lip-read, though it took tremendous concentration. Conversations were fast, and she could never catch the full sentence. She would sit in the front row, her eyes glued on the teacher’s lips, straining to see every lip movement. But when the teacher turned to write on the board, his words were not visible, leaving her frustrated and disappointed.
Nina was thrilled when they chose her to participate in a group play. She practised her dialogues standing before a mirror. As it was a group act, she had painstakingly watched the student after whom she had to enact her part. But on the day of the performance, the teacher changed the plan at the last minute. She did not hear the change, and no one remembered to inform her.
She stood on stage, lost, mouthing the lines she had memorised while her teammates performed something entirely different. There was chaos, sniggering and hooting.
That night, she cried, wondering where her fault was.
Her father sat by her side, his hand resting on hers.
“You know,” he wrote on her palm with his fingers, “the world might not always understand you. But don’t lose hope. Be brave.”
She blinked away tears and nodded.
Nina took refuge in the school library. While others were playing, shouting and laughing, she sat in a quiet corner, her nose buried in storybooks. Only Ananya joined her. She couldn’t play as she was polio-stricken.
One afternoon, Ananya placed a small book in Nina’s hands. It was the Indian Sign Language.
“I am also learning, so we can discuss the books we read,” she said.
It was the most decisive moment in Nina’s life. She could now communicate with her family and people who knew the sign language.
College brought new challenges. The lectures were longer, and the pace faster. Most students didn’t have the patience to include her in conversations. Some were kind, but many simply didn’t know how to communicate. She often sat alone in the library or canteen, reading or writing stories and poems.
She enjoyed the English lectures. Professor Kamat ensured he faced her when he lectured. He also helped her by giving her notes. He appreciated her grasp of the language and encouraged her to share her thoughts.
One day, he asked her to submit a poem for the college magazine. She wrote a poem on Rain and how she longed to hear the pitter-patter.
The next day, Professor Kamat pulled her from her desk and took her to the ground, where it was drizzling.
“Can you feel the raindrops on your face? Can you hold the raindrops in your palms?” he growled at her.
“Yes,” she answered, surprised and trembling at his anger.
“Then why don’t you hear the rain from your heart and describe it with your thoughts?”
“I don’t understand, sir,” she mumbled.
“God has given you the faculties to see, touch, and a heart to feel. So be thankful and positive in your thoughts and deeds.”
“You don’t need ears to hear the rain. You must hear with your heart. And make the world listen with your words.”
He then tore the poem she had submitted.
“Submit a poem by tomorrow,” he said, striding back to the office.
The next day, Nina submitted a poem.
That day, Nina learnt to be positive.
A few months later, a poster appeared on the college bulletin board:
National Youth Writing Contest: An Inclusive Tomorrow
The words stirred something in her.
She began to write.
Her story, “Samaveshan Nagari”, spoke of a beautiful, self-sustaining town where cooperation, compassion, and community spirit bloomed like varied flowers in a garden. Mutual respect allowed people of all backgrounds and abilities to live side-by-side, leaving no one behind.
Her dream town believed in universal accessibility and equal opportunity for all, ensuring senior citizens, people with physical challenges, the blind, and those with hearing impairments lead equal, empowered, happy, and independent lives.
She described the town as having sloped walkways for wheelchair access, audio signals at every crossing to help the visually impaired navigate safely and confidently.
A town that provides voice-controlled lifts, ramps, smart canes and assistance for the blind.
From her experience, she imagined a town where everyone used sign language. Where silence wasn’t a barrier but a challenge. Schools in her town taught sign language from class 1, and friends spoke with hands, eyes, and hearts. She described it as a place equipped with digital signboards and visual alerts accessible to people with hearing difficulties.
She also described how the town cared for the senior citizens to spend time in community halls and the library with medical facilities.
To ensure that her dream town was not a place for disabled people alone, but a healthy cohabitation of everyone, Samaveshan Nagari had facilities for everyone without inconveniencing others. Her town exemplified beauty, functionality, aesthetic and eco-friendly ethos.
Her dream town followed the motto “Support with Self-respect”
Nina wrote with her heart. The words poured out into the story, tinged with the loneliness she experienced, yet hoping there could be a place where everyone feels included, accepted and an integral part of the society.
She didn't expect to win. She only hoped someone would understand.
“Congratulations! You’ve won the National Youth Writing Contest.” Her college proudly announced it after a few months.
Congratulations poured in from teachers, parents, and individuals across various parts of India, expressing how her story opened their eyes to a world they had ignored.
Within a few months, she noticed children at the park learning basic signs, cafes putting up simple signboards, and audio announcements for the visually impaired people.
She walks the streets with her notebook, smiling at small signs of change. A child making a "hello” sign, a classroom with posters of the Indian Sign Language, a bus driver learning to signal the “next stop.”
Her book, her story, her dreams had metamorphosed into “Samaveshan Nagari”.
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