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Indian Express
08-08-2025
- General
- Indian Express
Private schools can't deny admission to children with disability. They are legally bound to admit them
By Somya Jain In July 2025, the Delhi High Court directed a private school in Delhi to re-admit a Class I student with autism who had previously been denied admission due to her disability. While the child was enrolled, the school raised concerns about her behaviour and repeatedly urged the family to withdraw her, which eventually led to her exit. However, when the parents later sought re-admission, the school refused, again citing her behaviour, despite being aware of her disability. In this current case, the Court not only ordered the child's re-admission but also directed the school to provide her with the necessary support to access her education (Aadriti Pathak vs GD Goenka Public School). The instances that led to the case show that the legal protections for children with disabilities remain poorly understood. The private schools continue to violate these rights with little accountability, and parents, often unaware of the protections available, are left to navigate the consequences. This also happens due to the misconception that the responsibility to support children with disabilities lies solely with government schools, and not private institutions. This assumption doesn't stand the legal scrutiny. The Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016 (RPWDA) is a dedicated legislation for the protection and promotion of the rights of persons with disabilities in India, which includes the right to inclusive education. In particular, Section 16(i) of the RPWDA mandates that all schools — both public and private, recognised by government and local authorities — admit children with disabilities without discrimination. Section 16 also requires all schools to make their premises and facilities accessible and provide necessary accommodations based on the child's individual needs. Thus, private schools have binding obligations towards children with disabilities. Another widespread misconception is that children with disabilities are meant to study only in 'special schools' designed exclusively for them. The RPWDA firmly rejects this idea. It establishes that every child with a disability has the right to inclusive education, which means a system where children with and without disabilities learn together. Therefore, schools do not have the discretion to direct parents towards special schools or suggest that children with disabilities do not belong in 'regular' classrooms. In fact, Section 12(c) of the Right of Children to Free and Compulsory Education Act, 2009, mandates that private schools reserve 25 per cent of entry-level seats for children from disadvantaged groups. While these legal provisions exist on paper, their violations are common. Numerous complaints filed by parents reveal how routinely schools deny admission to children with disabilities. In The Child vs State of Tamil Nadu (2023), a case similar to that of Aadriti Pathak, the Madras High Court directed a school to admit a child with autism after it had initially refused admission due to the unavailability of a special educator. Complaints submitted to the Chief and State Commissioners for Persons with Disabilities also highlight the scale of the issue, where schools continue to cite lack of infrastructure or trained staff as reasons for denying admission. To put an end to such rampant violations and ensure that the law is meaningfully enforced, both parents and schools must be aware that these legal provisions are non-negotiable. Failure to comply can lead to consequences such as fines, loss of recognition of the school and judicial directions to comply with the law. Interestingly, remedies for denial of admission have also been observed under the Consumer Protection Act, 2019. In Sneh Lata vs Bal Bharti Public School (2023), the Gurgaon District Consumer Disputes Redressal Commission directed the school to pay compensation of Rs 25,000 to parents for denying admission to their child with a hearing impairment. When legal rights are not widely known, violations go unchallenged, and those responsible remain complacent. This is especially true for children with disabilities, many of whom, particularly those with invisible disabilities like autism, go unidentified, and their entitlements are never exercised. As the law and policy landscape gradually shifts toward inclusion, it's time for the public to do its part: Stay informed, demand accountability, and ensure that no child is left behind simply because no one knew their right ever existed. The writer is a research fellow at Vidhi Legal Centre
Hindustan Times
08-08-2025
- General
- Hindustan Times
What gets counted, counts
Sixteen years have passed since India last counted its people in the decadal Census. With the next Census finally notified to collect data till March 1, 2027, the country is set to fill a critical gap in its data landscape. Since 2011, several laws and policies have been introduced, often in the absence of updated, reliable data. Yet, one of the most persistently overlooked areas remains the education of children with disabilities. Education (HT) The last decade-and-a-half has seen a major shift in the way India approaches education for children with disabilities. The country has moved from segregated or integrated models to a more inclusive system, where children with disabilities study alongside their peers. This shift has been formalised through the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016 (RPWDA), which guarantees inclusive education as a right, and the 2011 amendment to the Right to Education Act, 2009, which extended the right to education to children with disabilities. On the policy front, schemes like the Samagra Shiksha Abhiyan and the National Education Policy 2020 have laid out a framework for inclusive education. But, amidst all these sweeping changes, one thing has remained unchanged--the absence of comprehensive data on children with disabilities. It would be inaccurate to say that no efforts have been made to gather data, but the real question is: Have they been adequate? Or are we still building policies on an incomplete picture? The primary source of data on children with disabilities in India remains the outdated Census 2011. While it provided insights on total numbers, age and gender distribution, and school enrolment, it only accounted for seven categories of disabilities–far fewer than the 21 recognised under the RPWDA. A more recent effort, the 76th National Sample Survey (2018), offered limited insights on school enrolment, but lacked disaggregation by age or type of disability. Two other datasets offer some insights. The first is the 8th All India School Education Survey (2009), which is now outdated and of limited relevance. The more current and comprehensive source is the Unified District Information System for Education (UDISE) 2023–24. It captures key indicators like enrolment, drop-out rates, accessible infrastructure, special schools, and teacher training. Importantly, it also recognises all 21 disability categories under the RPWDA. Yet, even UDISE has significant blind spots. It excludes data on out-of-school children and those receiving home-based education and does not disaggregate the data by disability. As a result, there is currently no single, comprehensive, and up-to-date source that captures the full picture of children with disabilities in education. As discussed, the absence of updated and intersectional data leads to policies that wander aimlessly. But the cost of poor data goes beyond ineffective governance. When we don't know the scale of a problem, it fails to trigger urgency. Take, for instance, the NFHS 2016 findings on child malnutrition and anaemia in women, which spurred public concern and led to the launch of the Poshan Abhiyaan in 2018. When data is lacking, the issue itself becomes invisible in public discourse and sidelined in policy. This has long been the case with children with disabilities. Consider this: As per Census 2011, India had 78.6 lakh children with disabilities. Yet, according to UDISE 2023–24, only records 21 lakh enrolled in schools. What happened in these 16 years? Did the number decline drastically, or are millions simply out of school? This data vacuum fosters a dangerous complacency, weakening both public pressure and government response. The 2021 Census, now rescheduled for completion by 2027, offers a long-overdue opportunity to correct course. It can close the data gap for children with disabilities, but only if designed with intentionality. At a minimum, it must align with the RPWDA and recognise all 21 legally defined disability categories. It should also collect disaggregated data by age, gender, and location, and include specific questions on school enrolment and educational access. But better questions are only the starting point. The quality of disability data depends significantly on how it is collected. Enumerators must be trained to sensitively identify all forms of disability, the language and format of questions must be accessible and inclusive, and caregivers and community workers should be involved in the process. As NITI Aayog's Strategy for New India@75 notes, accurate identification remains a challenge, as many families hide disabilities to avoid discrimination. At the same time, a decadal exercise alone cannot anchor inclusive planning. Census data, while useful for macro-level analysis, is too infrequent to reflect the dynamic realities of children's lives, such as transitions in and out of school or changing support needs. That's why the Census must be complemented not replaced by robust, annual, and integrated data systems that monitor the full journey of children with disabilities, from enrolment to learning outcomes and transitions to higher education or employment. This requires strengthening databases like UDISE to include out-of-school children and those in home-based education, and disaggregating key indicators by type of disability. It also calls for better coordination across ministries to build a shared understanding of needs. For children with disabilities, the absence of data is not just a technical flaw, it signals exclusion. What isn't counted isn't seen, and what isn't seen isn't served. The Census is not just a chance to update numbers; it is a test of our national commitment to inclusion. If designed well, it could catalyse a decade of data-driven reform. But it cannot stand alone. Real accountability means treating disability data not as a one-time exercise, but as an ongoing responsibility. Inclusion begins with visibility. This article is authored by Somya Jain, research fellow, disability, inclusion and access, Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy, New Delhi.
Hindustan Times
21-05-2025
- Health
- Hindustan Times
Rethinking law and care for psychosocial disabilities in India
May is Mental Health Awareness Month and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) Awareness Month. BPD remains one of the least discussed, least understood mental health conditions in India. When I came out of my psychiatrist's office with a diagnosis of BPD, my mother seemed relieved. 'Borderline means it's not serious, right?' she asked. But nothing about how my world had been unravelling felt 'not serious.' In common parlance, the term borderline often implies ambiguity, something not quite there. But in psychiatric terms, BPD is one of the most severe and complex personality disorders, marked by chronic emotional pain, an abundance of trigger points, a fractured sense of self, a debilitating fear of abandonment, and in some cases, self-injury. The daily struggles of people living with BPD — navigating work, housing, and relationships are largely invisible in domestic, legal, clinical, and social discourse. While its symptoms vary, the core features include emotional instability, impulsivity, unstable relationships, and chronic feelings of emptiness. People with BPD have a higher suicide rate (5.9%) compared to those with other personality disorders (1.4%), with over 75% having attempted suicide in one study. BPD is also linked to various medical issues like obesity, diabetes, heart disease, chronic pain, and STDs. It often co-occurs with other personality, mood, attention, and eating disorders, as well as PTSD and substance use. Individuals with BPD tend to have shorter life expectancies and face challenges navigating the healthcare system. Yet, BPD remains poorly understood and heavily stigmatised, often weaponised in narratives that label people as toxic, dramatic, or too much. The Indian mental health discourse rarely makes space for personality disorders. Depression and anxiety dominate conversations, campaigns, and corporate wellness modules, while personality disorders like BPD remain in the shadows. Nowhere is this lack of understanding more visible than in the way Indian law approaches mental illness. Despite two relatively progressive laws — the Mental Healthcare Act, 2017 (MHCA) and the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016 (RPWDA), the legal recognition of invisible disabilities like BPD remains patchy. The MHCA provides the right to community-based care, protection from inhuman treatment, and access to legal aid (Sections 18–28). It also emphasises capacity-based treatment and the autonomy of people with mental illness, a significant shift from paternalistic models. Similarly, the RPWDA includes mental illness under the definition of disability and affirms rights to non-discrimination, education, legal capacity, and community living. Yet, in practice, these rights remain aspirational. Both Acts lack an implementation framework for chronic, episodic, or invisible disabilities like BPD. While the RPWD Act recognises mental illness within its list of disabilities, it offers no concrete mechanism for invisible and chronic conditions like BPD to gain reasonable accommodations at work, in education, or legal settings. The revised guidelines under the RPWD Act require mental illnesses to persist for at least two years before a permanent disability certificate is issued. However, this delay can hinder early intervention, often crucial in preventing further decline in the individual's mental and social functioning. India's current system relies heavily on medical impairment rather than assessing functional limitations, which can obscure the real-life challenges individuals face. A shift toward functional assessments, in line with global standards, is needed. Notably, an expert committee of the Indian Psychiatric Society recommended a shorter, three-month treatment period before certification, to better reflect persistent disability after adequate care. First, trauma-informed care should become foundational in both clinical and legal spaces. Personality disorders like BPD are closely linked with early trauma, especially abandonment, sexual abuse, or emotional neglect. Responding with coercion or moral judgment only deepens harm. India urgently requires a substantial expansion of its mental health service infrastructure. This means increasing the number of mental health professionals and facilities, particularly in rural regions, to guarantee that everyone has access to the care they need. Second, we need legal reform. The RPWD Act must include clearer implementation pathways for those with psychosocial disabilities. Certification and access to benefits, accommodations, or legal support cannot remain a bureaucratic labyrinth. The MHCA must also ensure that its rights-based framework is meaningfully enforceable for people with invisible, non-psychotic conditions. Third, national mental health programmes must include BPD in awareness campaigns, resource allocation, and therapist training. Dialectical Behaviour Therapy, the leading treatment for BPD, is scarcely available in India and largely unaffordable. BPD is not a halfway house between sanity and madness; it is a serious, treatable condition demanding reasonable accommodation, empathy, and rights. When we narrow our vision of disability to what's visible—wheelchairs, sign language, or acute psychosis we leave many sufferers stranded in silence. Without an informed and reliable support system, it becomes a cycle of pain, shame, and further isolation. We need systems that understand us, policies that protect us, and a culture that refuses to cast us away as difficult, broken, or dangerous. This article is authored by Shailee Basu, lawyer and research fellow, Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy, New Delhi.
