Mohammed Asif Iqbal, 34, is visually impaired, but has a keen sense of boundaries being crossed. The consultant with PricewaterhouseCoopers in Kolkata bristles every time he hears of a differently-abled person struggling through the maze of Indian bureaucracy for a job. It reminds him of his own ordeal with something as simple as procuring a disability certificate.
But Iqbal’s mission does not end with empathy; instead, his mind begins to map plans to make such interface disabled-friendly. It was this intent that made Iqbal offer his services to the Unique Identification Authority of India (UIDAI), becoming the first visually-challenged person to work on this project. His mandate: create a framework to allot unique identification numbers, called Aadhaar, to differently-abled citizens, who face unique issues during this exercise.
As a basis for identification, the UIDAI scans fingers and irises (in the eye), both of which are unique to each person. But many don’t have fingers or are visually-impaired; and then, there are people with other disabilities, with their own needs. Iqbal is sensitising UIDAI officials on how to allot Aadhaar numbers to such people and institutionalising processes within the organisation. “It’s a mammoth task considering, at most UIDAI regional offices, enrolment of the differently-abled is not the prime agenda,” he says.
Armed with a Dell laptop with a voice function, Iqbal is on sabbatical from PwC since August 2010. He has conducted four awareness and enrolment camps: in Mysore and Tumkur in Karnataka, Ranchi and Hyderabad. The camps were intended to create awareness not just among the differently-abled about Aadhaar, but also sensitise the UIDAI staff on handling special people. “I want the process of reaching out to differently-abled citizens to be ingrained into the system so that no ‘push’ is required from headquarters,” he says.
Since March, the UIDAI has enrolled 1,500 differently-abled citizens, but there’s a long way to go. Census 2001 estimated the number of Indians with disabilities at 2.1% of the population, or about 21 million; a recent World Bank study puts the number at 80 million. “We are looking at various technology solutions for such cases where authentication may turn out to be a challenge,” says Iqbal, who is extending his sabbatical by six months to streamline the process.
The UIDAI project is close to Iqbal’s heart as it has parallels with his own struggle in the late-1990s. When he was trying to procure a disability certificate in Kolkata, for instance, he had to face insensitive officials who demanded identity and residence proof for him to appear before a medical board. Besides, there were long waits for checks that could only be done at a government hospital, and at every stage, officials were asking for attested copies of the ration or voter card. After several trips to the Kolkata Municipal Corporation and government hospitals, Iqbal got his certificate in 1997.
“More than drudgery, feelings of helplessness and humiliation upset me,” he says. But this was not the end of his ordeal. A disability certificate issued by one state is not necessarily valid in another. New issues cropped up when procuring a railway concession. That was when Iqbal realised that an identity proof like Aadhaar, which offers a pan-India solution, is the clincher.
Iqbal’s ability, more than matched by his determination and passion, make him doubly sure. This fighting spirit has helped him sail through life, emotionally unscathed, despite being born with 50% vision and losing this too at the age of 16 due to a genetic disorder.