Backstory: The young woman who gave me hope on a bleak assignment

For a few weeks this February, I would set out early in the morning to visit government hospitals in Bengaluru.

I was reporting on India’s amputation rates, which are among the worst in the world. Not surprisingly, my assignment led me to stories of immense suffering and trauma.

Patients would arrive early in the morning from across Karnataka and other states. Some had open wounds and others were in severe pain.

I sat in rooms as patients were told, to their horror, that they would have to have their legs or toes amputated. In many instances, delay in treatment, as my investigation found, was one of the main reasons for often avoidable amputations.

Every day’s reporting left me drained of hope – until I met a young woman.

Her name was Harshita B. She lived in Bellary.

When Harshita walked into a room at the Bhagwan Mahaveer Jain Hospital, I assumed she was accompanying another patient.

Murali, who was in charge of the hospital’s prosthetic limb centre, looked at me and said, “You should talk to Harshita. She has been coming here for years, since she was a little girl.”

The 23-year-old smiled broadly at Murali and then walked towards me.

At first glance, it did not seem as if she was walking with a prosthetic limb. But she had been doing so almost her whole life.

“When I was about two years old, my family and I were travelling in an autorickshaw,” Harshita said. “A vehicle hit the auto, instantly killing my mother.” In the accident, Harshita lost her leg.

She did not quite remember her life before the accident, nor did she hold any anger in her heart about losing her leg.

Instead, Harshita listed the many ways that life had been good to her. “I went to a very good school. My teachers were always kind and considerate,” she said. “I had a very nice group of friends too. If somebody did make fun of my disability, it was my friends who defended and protected me.”

Through school and engineering college, Harshita said she managed to find people who always helped her out.

When I met her, Harshita was excited about starting on her first job.

“I’m starting tomorrow,” she said, smiling brightly.

She had come to the limb centre to check on her prosthetic and make sure it was in good shape. “The job is in Bengaluru, so I’m excited to move.”

But if there was one concern that the 24-year-old had, it was travelling on buses and trains. “That’s the time that I face the most trouble,” she said.

Harshita said that fellow passengers would often refuse to offer her a seat or make offensive comments.

As her handicap is not immediately apparent, Harshita is often chided if she takes up the seat reserved for the disabled on buses and trains. “Once, I was on the way to write an exam and I sat on a reserved seat in the bus. The whole time, the other passengers, and one man in particular, kept scolding me and passing comments,” she said.

Harshita said the experience made her nervous and caused her to carry that discomfort into the exam rooms as well. “People don’t seem to care for the disabled when it comes to public spaces,” she said. “But I try not to pay attention to those who are mean.”

It struck me that the struggle of the disabled in buses and trains and public spaces still does not get the attention it deserves.

It also made me realise that disabilities can sometimes be invisible. So, it’s important to check if there’s somebody around you who needs that seat on the bus more than you do.