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An Open Letter to the Hon’ble Minister for Social Welfare, J&K

After years of waiting, of hoping, of pleading, of dragging our bodies through bureaucracy and our souls through apathy—you handed us ₹250.
10:35 PM May 25, 2025 IST | Abid R Baba
After years of waiting, of hoping, of pleading, of dragging our bodies through bureaucracy and our souls through apathy—you handed us ₹250.
an open letter to the hon’ble minister for social welfare  j k
Representational image

Respected Ma’am,

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This missive comes to you not from an office desk, but from a place of lived reality — a reality shared by over half a million persons with disabilities in Jammu and Kashmir. And yet, despite our numbers, we remain invisible in budgets, policies, and now, in your recent decision.

On April 03, 2025, the Department of Social Welfare, under your ministry, issued an official order enhancing the monthly disability pension under the Integrated Social Security Scheme (ISSS) from ₹1000 to ₹1250 — a hike of ₹250 for the vast majority of the invisible minority.  As someone who is deeply fascinated by disability rights movements and works for the disability justice, it was a huge disappointment for me and my ilk. If my memory serves me right, I remember you pledging tripling disability pension at an event in Jammu on December 21, 2024. Why didn’t you live up to your promise? We are your Riaa’yah, and you are our Haakim. Why did you let us down? Who will take care of us, if not you? We vote with the hope that we will be empowered but what empowerment comes with additional ₹250?

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After years of waiting, of hoping, of pleading, of dragging our bodies through bureaucracy and our souls through apathy—you handed us ₹250. A number so small it mocks us more than it supports us. A number that speaks louder than all your press releases. In the past decade, the price of LPG has risen from ₹410 to over ₹1100. The average price of essential medicines has nearly doubled. A kilo of rice costs ₹50. Even a simple wheelchair now costs upwards of ₹6000. Yet our support from the state, until now, remained frozen at ₹1000 — a sum insufficient even for a month’s medical needs, let alone food, clothing, or transport. With the recent revision, the state now gives us ₹1250 per month.

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Madam Minister, the private sector remains largely inaccessible to people with disabilities. Government job quotas remain under-implemented. Most educational institutions lack ramps, tactile books, sign language interpreters, or assistive devices. And public transport? A nightmare for anyone who doesn’t walk on two “normal” legs. And why aren’t you recruiting special educators for thousands of disabled children? In a nutshell, we face exclusion at every level — structural, social, and economic. Yet, in response, we are offered ₹250 more after nearly a decade. Is this what our dignity is worth?

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We are the disabled of Jammu and Kashmir. Over 6.6 lakh of us, if we go by current estimates — although no one’s bothered to count us properly since 2011. We are blind. We are deaf. We are neurodivergent. We are in wheelchairs and on crutches. We have scars you can’t see and syndromes you can’t name. We are your neighbours, your voters, your citizens. But to you, it seems, we are invisible. How else do you explain this “revision”? Let’s not even call it that. Let’s call it what it is: a cruel joke, an insult. You say this hike is a step forward. We say it’s a slap.

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Do you know what this pension means to us? For many, it’s the only income. It buys pain relief. It pays for trips to hospitals. It fills stomachs with something—anything—so that survival can be stretched just a little further. It keeps hope flickering, just barely.

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But you don’t see that, do you? You don’t see the blind boy in Baramulla who gave up school because there was no Braille. You don’t see the girl in Kupwara who dropped out because the ramps were built at a 90-degree angle. You don’t hear the mother in Rajouri crying herself to sleep because her son’s hearing aid stopped working three months ago and she hasn’t received the pension. You don’t notice the man in Kishtwar dragging himself down a 3 km hill to check if ₹1000 has magically appeared in his account—only to find nothing. You may not see us but we are here.  And we demand to be treated like human beings—not as burdens. Not as statistics. Not as afterthoughts.

What do we get? ₹1250. And the cold silence of a government that thinks it has done enough. Let us be clear: we are not asking for charity. We are demanding justice. We are demanding what Article 41 of the Constitution guarantees. We are demanding what the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016, enshrines in law. We are demanding that our state honour its duty—it’s moral, legal, and ethical responsibility. Section 24 of the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016 (RPwD Act) outlines the government's responsibility to formulate schemes and programs that safeguard and promote the right of persons with disabilities to an adequate standard of living and enable them to live independently in the community. What is adequate about ₹1250 in 2025? What is dignified about ₹41.66 a day? There is no dignity in scraps. There is no justice in neglect.

Dear Minister, you are in a position of great influence. You can change this narrative. This meagre hike needs to be re-evaluated. It must, at least, be brought to national standards. These are not impossible demands. These are constitutional promises. And fulfilling them will not just uplift the disabled community — it will reflect a government’s commitment to humanity.

In a democracy, the worth of a society is measured by how it treats its most vulnerable. Persons with disabilities in Jammu and Kashmir are not asking for privilege. We are simply asking to be seen, to be heard, and to be valued beyond tokenism. Madam Minister, you can choose to be remembered as the one who broke a nine-year silence with a ₹250 note — or the one who truly brought change. We believe in your ability to listen, to feel, and to act. And we hope this letter moves you — not as a file, but as a voice from the ground. This letter is not political. It is personal. And we hope you will make it personal too.

Because the ₹1250 you offer us today may look like a policy achievement in an office file.
But in our homes— it is the price of despair. We demand:

  1. An immediate revision of the monthly pension to at least ₹5000 (irrespective of age).
  2. An annual indexing of pension to inflation, so we are not forced to wait another nine years while prices soar and bodies decay.
  3. Time-bound disbursement — no more 6-month delays.
  4. A Disability Rights Taskforce with actual representation from persons with disabilities. Kindly stop designing policies about us without us.

Let it be known that when the time came, you listened. You acted. You rose above bureaucracy and showed compassion. Show us that our lives are worth more than paper tokens. Show us that you care—not just for files, but for people.

We are looking forward to hearing from you. We hope you will come up with a pleasant surprise. Fingers crossed.

Gratefully Yours,

Abid.
On behalf of the disability community of Jammu and Kashmir.

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