Transacting and Transcending Disabling Spaces During COVID-19

Living Space: Description of the Research Site

Mumbai, the wealthiest city ¹ in India, is a city of contrasts with its skyscrapers housing the rich with access to all amenities on one side and slum settlements alongside, with poor basic amenities, on the other. The slum has dimly lit lanes, six to ten feet apart, with houses (with shared walls) on either side and open sewers and drains, thus posing a perpetual source of infections and diseases. The approximate size of a house in Cheeta Camp and Trombay ranges between 120 and 180 square feet, accommodating four to six people, and poorly ventilated. Some houses have one or two floors of the same size as the ground floor, with risky stairways. People generally use public toilets, which can be paid or free, provided by the municipality. Water in these public toilets is not regularly provided and is expensive, and hence their hygiene and maintenance can be a health and economic concern. The toilets are also not disabled-friendly.

According to the 2011 census, 34% of the 41.84% of the slum population in the city reside in the M-Ward, of which Cheeta Camp/Trombay ² is a part, as reported by Bhujbal (2016, para 2), consisting of 77.55% people who were displaced from other locations in the city. The Tata Institute of Social Sciences (2011) found that M-Ward is the most underserved in Mumbai, with a Human Development Index of 0.05. It was ranked the lowest amongst the 24 wards in the city, based on four parameters of health, education, livelihood and habitat. Nevertheless, it has one large municipal school, a few private schools and three large municipal grounds for children to play and well connected to the city by road and rail. Before COVID-19, the community members shared a cordial and supportive relationship, demonstrated by their collective celebration of religious festivals and cultural programmes.

Selection of Participants

All the participants had locomotor impairments and were identified by the fourth author (CL) from an urban low-income community where the NGO is located, using purposive sampling (Bryman, 2012). The criteria for selecting the participants were that they should have lived in that community for at least five years before the pandemic, had a locomotor impairment and had regular interactions with the NGO. There were challenges while recruiting participants for the study due to COVID-19–related experiences of grief. The fourth author (CL) managed to seek initial consent from five participants. She primed them about the research and told them to expect a call for the interviews. Subsequently, the first two authors (MN and SJ) collected data.

Data Collection

An unstructured in-depth interview guide was used to collect data in the language of preference of the participants. Hence, data were collected in Hindi, Tamil and English. The authors collected the data between July and August 2021 (during the second COVID-19 lockdown period) over the telephone, with each call lasting for about 60–90 minutes. Three telephonic sessions were conducted with one participant who suggested a convenient time beyond 11 pm to be able to talk without interruptions at home. Conversations at home continued to be challenging as people were still expected to curtail their movements, in addition to which they were scared to move out. An introductory call for about 15 minutes was made to prime the participant about the research, the process of data collection, and consent; ethical concerns about confidentiality and risks of participating in the study were elucidated, besides time for clarifying questions and doubts of participants. All the participants consented to the process; they gave consent to record the interviews, and they were assured of confidentiality. The names of the participants have been changed to ensure anonymity. Data seemed to be repetitive in the fourth interview, given the commonality of disability and the geographical community they lived in. Since we wanted at least one more female participant, we collected data from her too. The online/virtual ‘space’ of data collection was both advantageous and disadvantageous. Data were collected at a time which was convenient to the participant, and this was made possible only because of the digital ‘space’. This also meant that data were collected at different times of the day and late at night. Multiple short interview sessions had to be conducted to meet the needs of the participant.

Data Analysis

Data were transcribed, and narratives were prepared that were used for coding. All four authors participated in the coding process, and we were able to achieve inter-coder reliability (Bryman, 2012, p. 712) by meticulously perusing each narrative a couple of times. The triangulation of codes by the four authors was undertaken to ensure rigour in qualitative research. The first-level codes identified by all authors were collapsed (Saldana, 2009) into sub-themes; these in turn were strung into themes with thick descriptions (to ensure authenticity and credibility of data) that have been used for presenting the findings of the study.

Background of the Participants

Aneez, ³ a 36-year-old man with paralysis of lower limbs, runs a mobile repair shop in the vicinity and lives with his parents, wife and son. He was interviewed via telephone. Santosh, a 39-year-old with polio in the left leg, is a daily wage earner and lives with his mother, wife and two children. Shafeena, an 18-year-old student with cerebral palsy, lives with her parents and younger brother. Keshav (45-year-old male with polio in left leg, lives with wife and two children and does embroidery work) was able to talk during lunch hour so that it did not affect his work. Our contention for space begins with the experience of negotiations related to data collection by the participant. The challenges in data collection included current COVID-19 losses. Princy, a 38-year-old homemaker with polio in one leg, is married with one child and lives with her mother-in-law. She lost her grandmother and, in quick succession, her cousin to COVID-19 and therefore lost contact with the researcher for some time. She was willing to talk to the researcher after her experience of loss and during the grieving process.

Transactions of Everyday Life

Conceived spaces (official/legitimate spaces) took over the lived spaces (where rhythms of everyday life emerge) in a manner that the first wave of the pandemic was characterised by ‘disbelief’. There was confusion about the cause, treatment, course of illness, restrictions, scarcity, social isolation, deprivation and quarantines. Everyday life appeared to reflect a dystopian reality. People faced difficult circumstances as the lived context changed, exacerbating existing vulnerabilities and disrupting the semblance of equilibrium they had achieved in their lives, as supported by McKinney et al. (2024).

Aneez shared:

[I]t was sudden…from one day of janta (public) curfew—everyone said it’s fine for one day..it’s fine—it was like a holiday…and then it went on for 5–6 months which increased problems. Initially we thought like chikungunya etc, this disease was also spreading but it would be okay—we heard about it spreading in other countries—no one thought it would spread like this in India.

The lockdown, which was supposed to be for a day, went on for many months and that compounded the fear and fuelled rumours.

Participants were concerned about, ‘How will we eat? How long will this last? There are so many fears - fear of loss of job, life, fear that police will hit us if we move out’. The nature of public spaces changed as police ensured and strictly monitored adherence to restricted movements imposed by the state with force, leading to an atmosphere of fear and intimidation. The nature of the community changed, the physical spaces of engagement of community members, which were once places of vibrancy, in turn both supportive and conflictual, were altered. These community spaces went from being engaged to distant and forced people to go to their homes and stay there, as described by Magnusson and Jha (2024).

People in the community were pushed out of public spaces into domestic spaces creating new dynamics within households. ‘Public’ thus was no longer accessible, and ‘home’ became a space of restriction where one navigated fear, loss of income and uncertainty. Lefebvre (1971, c.f. Elden, 2009) saw cities and urban spaces as being alienating and alienated. He argued that the alienation happened through urbanism, which, according to him, was a political practice used by the state and the capitalist system to organise and rationalise the space for social production, flow and reproduction (Lefebvre, 1971). The pandemic strengthened this control of the state. The alienation that people felt is evident in their disrupted routines and accessibility to food, besides the complexities and alterations in the medical spaces around them. The alienation covered many aspects of people’s lives; however, we have chosen to focus on these spaces as they came out frequently in our interview conversations with the participants.

Disrupted Routines

Executing routine activities of everyday life posed challenges for people with disabilities. Before the pandemic, participants explained how they had negotiated various challenges around education, employment and family life and established a certain homeostasis. The pandemic disrupted their everyday lives completely. Before the lockdown was announced, COVID-19 seemed to exist as a ‘foreign illness’ that would not impact them directly. The lockdown made COVID-19 ‘real’. It closed down their spaces of work, education and recreation.

The changes were abrupt, and people were unprepared for the changes that were to follow. One of the first changes that occurred was in the actual (physical) spaces of living. Lockdowns led to sharing small spaces (one-room apartments measuring 180–200 square feet) among four or more people. Princy narrated, ‘With everyone at home, work gets delayed, someone or the other is always calling me and so there are always interruptions at home. All this leads to increased arguments at home. When people go out, we can finish housework easily’. This reorganisation of their spaces required negotiations and compromises as well as facing new conflicts. Here we see the lived experience of a conflictual space wherein the person with lesser power (in this case Princy as the daughter-in-law) found it hard to go about her daily activities because of continuous infringement of her ‘space’. Other participants also described the spaces in their lives that were being produced, appropriated and transformed based on conflicting interests, values and ideas (Busquet, 2012) during the pandemic.

Aneez experienced challenges of dealing with conflicts by moving out of the house, which not only causes discomfort but also restricts options for dealing with conflict. ‘If everyone is at home and very little money is coming in then good things also feel bad. There is a pressure to work, pressure to manage the daily expenditure of the house … irritation has increased…the house has become like a prison)’. The scarcity of space and resources caused further disturbances in the household. Disability accentuated the financial challenges that everyone was facing as the people with disabilities found it difficult to get back to work or explore alternatives in the limited contested options. Restarting work came with its own set of challenges related to supply chain disruptions. Given that bag making is the predominant livelihood, it became even more difficult for a person with a severe disability to arrange for supplies using expensive modes of transport such as an auto-rickshaw or taxi since the supplier stopped making deliveries. This further delayed the resumption of economic activity, creating further pressure at home.

Erratic salaries, walking to workplaces in masks in the peak of summer with the discomfort of perspiration and fear of contracting COVID-19 in crowded places, and the closure of schools and travel restricted the work options of the participants. Santosh makes bags that require working from home; however, the closure of schools and travel decreased the demand for bags. Princy described her husband’s need to work as they could not apply for loans; people refused to lend money due to fear of non-repayment. Princy stated:

My husband is the only one who works in the house. He works as a security guard and during the lockdown he continued to work, though his salary was erratic. Before lockdown, it was in cash and on time. Now it is online payment and not always on time.

Online payment meant visiting a bank or ATM to withdraw money, and ‘with a young child, withdrawing money also became a hassle. I was unable to withdraw money as I could not leave my child alone. No one could go out; my in-laws are also old so they could not go out at all’. The change in payment mode from cash to online modes caused further practical difficulties for the family. For vulnerable groups, the innocuous task of withdrawing money involved intricate planning in adapting to an entire process rife with challenges related to time restrictions, movement and support required for the same. Thus, there was an added challenge of limited access to and using technology and the perils of digitalisation. It is difficult for the vulnerable and marginalised to negotiate with the spaces that they live in. The pandemic, therefore, further restricted the spaces that disabled people inhabit. The community spaces that they had been negotiating with, to gain more space for themselves suddenly shrank and became limited to the household.

Discourses on Food

Discourses around food are considered a part of the personal narratives of individuals pertaining to personal decisions/choices around the nature, quantity and variety of food that people prefer. However, post the lockdown, food became a part of the public narrative as people stood in lines, contacted groups and discussed where and what kind of food was available. Managing food became a daily challenge for vulnerable groups. Rations were mostly received through charitable organisations, NGOs, and people who had donated money, and some local disability organisations provided rations for a long period. These were also the times when people, without pre–COVID-19 economic problems, were also reduced to standing in lines for food. Participants were angry or nervous, few mentioned receiving government support and described an increase in the challenges of accessing food due to disability.

The participants received support from neighbours and relatives as ‘….could not stand in queues for long owing to polio of the right leg…. they would inform me when the stock at the ration shop would arrive, and I was able to go and pick it up. I did not receive any other help’. Santosh reported that while local leaders and NGOs distributed food, it was insufficient. Keshav shared that ‘various Trusts helped us a lot in the first wave, but there was no help during the second wave’. He was called to the office of the Trust, which was located about 2 km away, and

I would go for the photo op, and my wife would carry the material. I would depend on my son to support me while walking. They were not inclusive in their approach to my needs of disability. I was not comfortable asking them to come home, it doesn’t look good to ask for such favours.

On the one hand, community resources were mobilised to cater to the needs of persons with disability; and on the other hand, the service delivery and help were experienced as ‘staged’ for publicity purposes. Before COVID-19, only during the observation of the World Disability Day or any such special occasion, people with disabilities would be ‘seen’ in public space. Otherwise stepping out to the social ‘gaze’ seemed to be demotivating. Social capital continued to be available before and during COVID-19, both within the community and from political parties and NGOs. The social relations provided support in myriad ways, for example Princy shared how she would eat leftover food given by her husband’s brother. ‘My husband would have breakfast and dinner and skip lunch to save food. Now things are better—payment is more regular—though it does not come at one time. We are still able to make do’. Eating leftovers, skipping meals, standing in lines, travelling long distances to get subsidised or free food rations were a part of the food narrative of almost all the participants in the study. These actions for seeking food align with Lefebvre’s ideas of space being a political stake in the sense that it is the medium, the instrument, and the objective of struggles and conflicts (Busquet, 2012, p. 3; Lefebvre, 2000 [1973], pp. 35–36).

As marginalised individuals with disability and from a low-income background, the seeking and acquisition of food became a space for struggles and humiliation. Aneez stated he:

felt very humiliated – I had never thought that I would have to spread my hands and ask for food, and that too for five kg (kilogram) rice, dal, half kg sugar and 1 kg oil. The lockdown showed what bad times really look like. I also felt bad that they told us to stand far away – I understand social distancing but…they were treating us like beggars. In some places they clicked our photographs or took videos – why click photos/videos? - I understand that they also must show that they are distributing but still it is insulting. Before the lockdown I was always self-reliant – I never ‘begged’ for anything although I have been disabled all my life. Normal (non-disabled) people have suffered during these times – imagine us.

This shows helplessness was exacerbated when dignity was compromised. Notwithstanding this helplessness, the photo ops became necessary as ‘proof’ to the funders about the funds being invested in the ‘right’ place. This reflects the power of space as a social product (Lefebvre, 1991) that is produced and influenced by those who have resources and how they transact with those who are less resourced. Further, it makes mutual transactions imperative to ensure the visibility of ‘giving’ and ‘receiving’ to fit the requirements of donating. Even though it may seem like a quality check, there is a tendency to objectify receivers as ‘beneficiaries’, thus depriving people of agency and dignity, and misleading the joy of giving.

All the participants in pre–COVID-19 times had ‘managed’ their disabilities to execute their daily tasks independently and generate a self-sustaining income. While the state failed to set up systems, community organisations also compromised dignity as food distribution seemed like doled-out charity. Further, being ‘models of charity recipients’ did not sit well with them, and getting photographed while collecting ration was a sore point for Keshav and Aneez. Food then becomes a public and political issue wherein the disability of the person receiving the rations was highlighted. The urban space presented a contrasting picture of the ability of people, with better socio-economic status and use of technology, to continue employment, access food and other necessities of life while being at home. Compared to that, people with fewer resources and lower access to technology faced deprivation and increased dependence on the state for the necessities of life.

Participants expressed anger against the local government authorities as they felt that more should have been done for people living with disabilities:

corporators should have worked for us. They have disability certificate, and they have records, but we didn’t get anything from them [government]. We went with Aadhar ⁴ cards and disability cards and stood in lines but often got no ration. We were not given information by any government body - it was through the disability WhatsApp group that we got information.

The insufficiency/inability of the state to prioritise welfare benefits despite required identity cards, reduced faith in states’ capacity to respond. Princy pragmatically stated if not money the least the government could do was, ‘give rations – door-to-door delivery or camp through the MLAs should have been done at least once in 15 days every month’. The help that came was often confusing and poorly organised. The participants acknowledged that political parties responded to the situation, but the ‘food grains…distributed by the political parties led to chaos and were difficult to access as the disabled people’s needs were forgotten and in the second phase even this was missing’ (Aneez). Thus, people had to make their own arrangements as there was a lack of appropriate, relevant and inclusive responsiveness from the state during the first wave and no support at all during the second wave. Conversely, community groups supported each other across the two waves, and help was received from known sources, religious organisations and the local NGO.

Though the government distributed food and rations to affected groups during the first wave, there were complaints of quality and corruption. Santosh remarked, ‘the government said there was no food when they could see bags full of grains inside (the food distribution centre)’. Civil society organisations stepped up to ‘help’ (Shakespeare et al., 2022). Existing biases and stereotypes resurfaced as participants complained about the politics of food distribution resulting from region, religion or class. According to Aneez, people in rural areas were helped but Mumbai belonged to the ‘rich’ and ‘well-connected’; the ones with low social and economic capital in slums were further marginalised. The urban social spaces also become instruments of alienation for the vulnerable; this is in keeping with Lefebvre’s (1974) view of social spaces being a product of social relations. These spaces of food distribution in urban areas then became a means of control and hence of domination, of power (Lefebvre, 1974, p. 34). These discourses around food illustrate how the personal, public and political converged at every step highlighting how helping spaces lead to humiliation and discontent and thus become ‘disabling’.

Altered Medical Spaces

Social space contains a great diversity of objects, both natural and social, including the networks and pathways which facilitate the exchange of material things and information. Such ‘objects’ are also relations (Lefebvre, 1974, p. 85), particularly with medical spaces that were altered. Access to ‘medical services’, challenging in ‘normal times’ for disabled persons, became worse during the pandemic. Partners of two participants were pregnant requiring periodic medical care. The combination of disability, lack of accessible medical and transportation services as well as reduced access to public spaces posed severe obstacles and increased distress. Aneez mentioned that since sonography was discontinued in public hospitals, he ‘had to get it in private places’. Visiting hospitals was difficult as ‘vehicles were not available most of the time or they refused to go saying we will be fined’. The baby was born pre-term baby, and he said ‘…doctor said we must do a caesarean immediately because if the child dies inside, the mother will also be in danger. I felt – my world is ending. I had no money in my pocket and this kind of a disaster’. His son had to be readmitted for jaundice treatment and discharged within a few days. ‘The doctors said that if there was no corona or lockdown, we would have kept your child till he was nine months, but because doctors were also COVID-19 positive, we had to discharge him’. Not only was this burdensome financially, but it also created stress and anxiety because of the uncertainty. Routine immunisation for children was also affected due to COVID-19. Princy found it difficult to travel to the doctor’s as ‘climbing the rickshaw alone was difficult – my mother-in-law had to go with me to hold the baby. Getting a rickshaw was also difficult…even when we offered extra money to return home’. Medical emergencies along with transportation hurdles complicated help-seeking for disabled people (Rechner et al., 2023).

Living with COVID-19 also meant living with dichotomies—on the one hand, there were difficulties in accessing medical services; on the other, anxiety related to illnesses increased the need to access them. Santosh said, ‘since last year even if we get a mild cough or cold, we get scared and go to the doctor immediately’. They struggled to make ends meet and would compromise on food just to buy medicines. The struggle for food and healthcare changed the nature of perceived spaces or the spatial practices of people, along with medical and popular notions around COVID-19. People were unsure about the conflicting information that existed about the causes, spread and treatment of COVID-19. People used a variety of strategies to keep themselves safe. These included using home or herbal remedies (drinking turmeric water, using neem leaves) to prevent illnesses. Vulnerability along with hypervigilance because of existing disabilities wreaked havoc on the families of the participants. After the lockdown withdrawal, strict physical distancing norms continued, increasing their feelings of isolation and depression. Shafeena was sad that she could not meet her friends; participants who were parents of infants and young children were despondent whenever they had to push their children away till the person ‘sanitised’ themselves. Santosh had to restrain himself from hugging his older son who would rush to him:

due to social distancing norms whenever I would go out for some work and enter the house…I had to avoid all this for the first few minutes till I could wash my hands, feet and……a shower. He showed a lot of sadness, and I was deeply saddened by this. I was also not able to hold my newborn baby as much as I wanted to for the same reasons, and we all kept ourselves safe by following COVID-19 protocols.

Routine ways of functioning were disturbed. Princy underwent surgery and her infant daughter was left with her parents: ‘I was only crying a lot wanting her to be in the hospital with me but feared getting her to the hospital because of COVID-19 as there were many COVID-19 patients in the hospital’. Altered medical spaces created challenges and changed the perceived, conceived and lived spaces of disabled people and their families.

Transcending Spaces

Lefebvre’s idea about the emancipation of the working class—from every form of domination and alienation is utopian (Busquet, 2012). Utopia is understood as a system of ideas that ‘transcends’ a given historic or social situation, not by denying it but by surpassing it. The advent of the pandemic created a historic situation that changed relationships and the everyday lives of people across the world. Despite the seemingly unsurmountable challenges, the participants in our study also displayed the ability to focus on dealing with difficult circumstances with hope. They had developed different ways of coping and ‘transcending’ this particular social situation. Participants surrendered to God as they appeared to have little control over their lives. While they continued to work and make efforts to improve their life situations, the outcomes seemed to be dependent on ‘fate’. Princy stated ‘during the second wave…(there) was…. loss of hope. We were hoping that things were getting better but the second wave led to increased disappointment’. Her fear was related to survival ‘I used to feel scared whether we will survive or not’ during the first wave and of loss of jobs ‘as there are lockdowns anytime’ during the second wave. The changing nature of emotions across the two waves, from fears of death to unemployment, drying up of resources to a sense of hopelessness, was palpable. The participants attributed this lack to people being left with very few resources themselves. For some, it was different Keshav stated:

the second wave was easier to deal with as we knew better what to do, and this enabled us to return to work—we could sell idlis ⁵ (earn about Rs. 150 per day) to known people and I was able to go to work too. With this, we managed to meet our daily expenses.

Some movement towards the resumption of ‘normal’ lives led to managing the second wave with lesser severity in economic disruptions.

Although a sense of hopelessness at the seemingly never-ending COVID-19 saga persisted, our participants were able to articulate the differences between the two waves. The participants reported better coping during the second wave as they were more prepared for it. Shafeena’s classes reopened, after the first wave, with physical distancing and precautions which they all followed. Online classes and examinations have also become a part of her reality, so she is aiming to be better prepared for them.

The narratives show how the participants and their families survived during the second year of the pandemic, by transforming their lives. To survive the transformations, participants relied on different beliefs about COVID-19. Princy explained COVID-19 as God’s wrath,

COVID happened because it is written in our religious texts – it was decided by the Cosmos. There is increased sin in the world, so God was like what do I do with the world? So, he sent this, but people – they have still not repented - rapes, conflicts till continue.

These seemingly erroneous beliefs helped them to survive through the creation of COVID-19 narratives. These narratives were formed through fears, hearing rumours and the different explanations related to the origins of COVID-19, which changed periodically. Medical fraternities around the world gave varied information about the pandemic. Therefore, people’s personal beliefs helped them to get through their everyday lives.

According to Keshav, COVID-19 affected largely those who lived in high-rise buildings, people living in chawls ⁶ and slums were not affected much. They were more concerned with malaria, typhoid and so on. Explanations like this helped them to survive the uncertainties and make sense of the world around them. Although sources of help decreased post the second wave, they attributed it to the distress that everyone around them was facing. They were also reluctant to ask for help as everyone was suffering. ‘In the first lockdown, people helped but in the second lockdown nothing happened – only about 10% help was available in the second lockdown. I think people were left with little resources to help by the second lockdown’, said Aneez.

There were many hardships, but their support systems also helped them to rise above the difficulties. Sources of help included friends, neighbours, family members as well as religion. Princy would ‘talk to Jesus…. He is my biggest support; I cry to Him’. Relationships were tested, and although some spoke about family members being a source of support; others felt abandoned by their families. For Princy, her mother was a major source of support, according to her, others could abandon her but because she was the daughter, her mother would always be there for her.

Aneez felt that he was surrounded by ‘new faces’, everyone was a stranger as they refused to help. He was antagonistic towards his brothers who looked after the parents but did not care for their disabled brother (him) and his infant child. Although he felt distressed that his brothers could have helped him more; he continued to perform his expected role in the family. His persistence is evident from his narration of the experience of taking his pregnant wife who was in pain to the hospital:

one day my wife got severe pains in the first lockdown (where largely no movement was allowed). I begged auto and taxi drivers, but they refused saying that in Kurla (where our hospital was located) there were frequent fines—I requested many people. Finally, I took her in a tempo (truck) that delivered goods for a mall—it was closed so both of us sat inside so that no one could see us from outside. Doctors were also surprised how we reached – but I said if she was in pain what could we do.

In a seemingly impossible situation, Aneez ensured medical services for his pregnant wife. He managed by finding a creative solution to the problem.

Surrounded by distress, spaces of leisure and celebration were reduced, as main festivals like Deepavali and Ramadan were very low-key during the first wave and people did not go out of their homes at all. There was strict police vigilance in Cheeta Camp/Trombay. However, during the second wave of the pandemic, some people came out to celebrate with and without masks. They would celebrate festivals with no outsiders coming in to keep the children and senior citizens in the house safe. Living with disabilities, the participants felt that as they were more vulnerable; therefore, they continued with the celebrations but only with their immediate family members. Aneez shared:

it was my son’s first Eid and I could not celebrate much – I can’t remember a time when I did not buy new clothes during Eid…but this time I just managed to buy a new set of clothes for Rs 400–500 for my son with a great deal of difficulty. I must attend to household expenses as well. Before the lockdown, I used to earn 400–500 rupees a day.

Currently, festivals also seem to represent a loss of aspirations. While talking about the disruptions in his plans for his son because of COVID-19, Aneez nevertheless stated, ‘I haven’t lost hope completely’.

The description of challenges faced by all the participants was interspersed with details of adaptations made, help received and transformations in their lives. They narrated challenges while describing how they transcended them. As data were collected telephonically, the study captured only as much as was narrated by the participants and all authors could not visit the site. Nevertheless, the fourth author’s presence in the community and her direct involvement with the participants offset this limitation to some extent. The merit of the study lies in highlighting the nuanced experiences of navigating the challenges related to physical attitudinal spaces and structures by people with disabilities.