January 20, 2013
Abhilasha Ojha | New Delhi
Recognised by the World Economic Forum as an under-40 leader, Sminu Jindal has not let her wheelchair limit her life, work or spirit, finds Abhilasha Ojha
When we meet Sminu Jindal at her plush residence in Delhi’s posh Anand Niketan, it’s almost like meeting a friend. Having met her almost a decade ago, when she was announcing the launch of her portal Svayam to take up the cause of the differently-abled, I realise it is time to renew our acquaintance.
Jindal, of course, has come a long way. At that time she was still single (“actually, I’d started seeing this guy who is now my husband,” she smiles), on a wheelchair but very spirited, very positive, very lively. “I had a surname which in itself was — still is — a brand but I continuously wondered how others, who were physically challenged like me, managed to survive in a country where people are largely insensitive to the needs of the differently abled,” she says, as we sip coffee together.
Much has changed for Jindal since the time I’d met her a decade ago. She’s a married woman now, with two lovely little kids (Arjan and Anav) and a husband on whom she dotes (“I call him my Sai ka prasad and thanks to him I have two amazing children,” she says). She’s also a working woman who was recently given the FICCI Woman Achiever award. Additionally, the World Economic Forum has also declared her one of the top 200 global achievers, under 40, in the world.
Even as I shift uncomfortably on her sleek couch, wondering how to speak to her about her life and trials as a physically-challenged person, Jindal smiles generously, waves her hand while sitting in a wheelchair, and announces, “Sure, go ahead, ask whatever you want.” That’s her spirit: not shying away from circumstances that left her wheelchair-bound for life, but instead, using it as a means to let others benefit from her experience.
That’s the reason why Svayam, she says, was revived. From being a mere portal, it started tremendous offline activities, sensitising the government to include facilities for not just the disabled but also for the elderly, women and those with other disabilities. The results are already showing. Jindal feels that the government is now far more sensitive about introducing disabled-friendly outfits in sectors that affect the day-to-day lives of people: “Most in the private sector need to learn a lot,” she adds.
Even as she starts narrating episodes to support her point of view, one wonders how she derives the strength to tackle every day, every minute of her life with so much ease and dignity? Her voice quivers for the first time as she adds softly, “Where is the dignity when you have to be manually lifted to reach your seat in the airplane?” She had a rough experience last year with a private airline which refused to provide an aisle chair for her and didn’t allow her to carry her own wheelchair, which could be easily folded as hand-baggage.
While we, as a society, owe a response to Jindal and people like her, the young woman, nattily dressed in black trousers, bright green top, smart black jacket and bright pink scarf, is busy sensitising government agencies and hopes that, one day, every corner of the country will be friendly “not just for the disabled but also for everyone who is coping with issues of reduced mobility — the elderly, expectant mothers, mothers with little children and others”.
Though Svayam has been invited by civic agencies, including the NDMC and the education ministry (“We’ll start by making some government schools accessible to differently-abled children,” says Jindal) to work on developing facilities for the disabled, the organisation, in its capacity as “access consultant” to the Archaeological Survey of India, is already executing work at different heritage sites, including in Delhi, Agra and Goa. “We’ve undertaken access audits for the Qutb Minar,” says Jindal. “We have also been invited by hospitality giants like the ITC and Hyatt to incorporate accessibility in making their built and social environments barrier-free and accessible to all,” says Jindal, adding that the first time she visited the Red Fort was when Svayam had made it accessible for the disabled.
In addition to working round-the-clock for Svayam, Jindal, who has been wheelchair-bound since she was 11 (“I met with a car accident in Jaipur,” she tells us), is managing director of Jindal SAW, a Rs 7,800-crore company, also one of the largest producers of SAW pipes — used widely in the energy sector for the transportation of oil and gas. She says that she manages to divide her time efficiently between work and home. There’s proof of that.
She’s made superb collages of her son’s paintings, even a quilt of sorts, sewn on to which are her children’s little booties, their first baby clothes and other items that, she says, “cannot be given away”. An artist herself, Jindal’s typical day includes one hour of yoga and cardio exercises, lots of work in office, digging information on crystal therapy (“I swear by it,” she says) and giving constant feedback to different organisations who approach her.
When we meet, she’s just back from a long day at work. Her children have returned from their Taekwondo class (“my husband’s explained to them that their mom walks on wheels,” she smiles) and she grins indulgently at them while our photographer clicks them. “I never thought I’d be married one day with kids,” she confesses, laughing when her babies interrupt our interview to plant firm kisses on her cheeks.
When we leave, I request her to come to our office some time. “Sure, is there a ramp for me to reach the office door?” she enquires. No, there isn’t, but we walk away confident that she’ll find a way to open those doors too.
Source: Business Standard
Source: The Hindu
