Ramp Promises, Broken Steps
I remember the day I appeared for my first UGC-NET-JRF exam at a garrison on the outskirts of Srinagar. A student with a physical disability was asked by the supervisory staff to pull his pants down. Yes, in a public corridor, to “prove” his orthopaedic condition. That is how cruelly insensitive our systems can be, how little they understand about dignity. I stood up and intervened. You, as a reader, can imagine the humiliation that student must have felt.
Now, let us pause for a moment and ask why our exams are inaccessible? Around 2.5 lakh students of class 10, 11 and 12 are writing their board exams this November. Universities, colleges and recruitment agencies continue their exams throughout the year. But are Jammu and Kashmir’s exam centres truly equipped for everyone? Do they have ramps, lifts, wide corridors and accessible toilets? Do invigilators know how to assist a blind, deaf or neurodivergent student with dignity? Do our Boards and universities follow the national accessibility rules, or are those rules lost somewhere between Delhi’s desks and Kashmir’s classrooms? Before a school is chosen as an exam centre, does anyone check if it is accessible? During district-level training, are students with disabilities even considered stakeholders?
Paper promises
Our government promises welfare for students with disabilities. But welfare is not justice. Welfare is a bandage. Rights are the cure. When the state fails to uphold those rights, to ensure that every child, regardless of ability, can sit in an exam hall without humiliation or hardship, it is not just a policy failure, it is an HR abuse.
Incredible exams?
Thousands of complaints were pouring in from different parts of the country regarding inaccessible exams and recently the Government of India (GoI) took a serious note. In August 2025, the union Government announced sweeping reforms to make exams more accessible for persons with disabilities (PwDs). The Department of Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities (DEPwD) rolled out new national guidelines under the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (RPwD) Act, 2016 and even integrated directives from the Supreme Court. When you read the document as a concerned citizen, it looks perfect. I will go a little far, it looks revolutionary. No pun intended. Exam centers have to be barrier-free with standardized scribes, compensatory time, and assistive technology. But then, there’s Kashmir. Exam centres are often cracked dimly lit buildings with missing ramps and lifts. A student with a disability is still carried on someone’s shoulders to the first floor because “the ground floor is occupied.” Here, an invigilator still says to a disabled student, “Just manage somehow.” The law promises access. Reality shuts the door.
Dream vs. Dust
The new guidelines insist that all educational institutes and recruitment boards must ensure accessible centres. But in Kashmir, exams are conducted in cold, Maharaja-era buildings when accessibility was not valued. In 2022, a student with disability (in Srinagar) was carried up a staircase by his friends because the exam hall was on the second floor.
The government’s tech-first approach sounds modern, even empowering. Candidates are encouraged to use screen readers, magnifiers, Braille displays, and speech-to-text tools to write independently, without scribes.
But who will tell Delhi that Kashmir’s electricity flickers like a dying candle? Who will explain that power cuts do not wait for exam schedules? Screen readers like JAWS and NVDA do not work without power or proper training. Many blind students in rural districts have never even seen one. Here, technology does not equal empowerment. It equals exclusion.
Whose Scribe am I anyway?
A few years ago, I wrote the UGC-NET exam, as a scribe, for Kashmir’s famous limbless scholar, Sultan, at National Institute of Technology, Srinagar. I was paid INR 1200 soon after Sultan submitted his OMR Sheet. But as per the new guidelines, the facility to arrange your own scribe is over. Now, the exam bodies will create official pools of approved scribes within two years. In theory, it is about curbing malpractice, but in reality, it is a cruel joke for disabled student community in Kashmir. Forget about border areas, the most disadvantaged population, will there be trained scribes in Handwara, Bandipora, or Pulwama — where even exam centres struggle to find a working fan?
To make it worse, scribes now must belong to the same academic stream. This rule sounds less like fairness and more like punishment for being disabled. The Supreme Court has often said that exams must be “fair, transparent, and equitable.” But fairness is not about treating everyone the same. It is about ensuring everyone can compete equally.
The Local Silence
As a disability rights activist, I no longer celebrate these announcements. I have seen too many “inclusive” reforms wilt under the weight of apathy. Policies are made in Delhi for photo-ops. No one checks if an exam hall in Kokernag has a ramp. No one asks whether a blind student in Teetwaal has power for his computer exam. This is an absence of will, empathy and accountability. Even simple rules, like granting 20 extra minutes per hour, are ignored. Students are mocked or asked to “prove” their disability despite valid UDID cards. This is apathy.
What Next?
If the government is serious about accessibility, it must move beyond tokenism. To begin with, audit every centre; create a verified database of trained scribes at district level. Sensitize exam staff to disability rights- not to pity but to respect. Ensure well-lit separate space for disabled candidates. Set up district-level helplines and redress systems for PwD candidates. The rights of disabled students cannot be seasonal, selective, or symbolic.
