“That night, I wasn’t scared, because I’m disabled. I was scared because…” 26-year old’s story of strength that raises serious questions – The Times of India

It is not easy being Karan Shah, but it is certainly worth being him. He seems to live by the famous quote, “He who laughs at himself never runs out of things to laugh at.”Karan Sunil Shah is in his early twenties and has an infectious sense of humour. He lives with Type III Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA), a genetic condition that affects the motor nerves responsible for voluntary muscle movement. His elder brother, who also had SMA, passed away due to cardiac arrest at the age of 14. One can only imagine the trauma Karan and his parents endured. Yet, Karan chose laughter over despair.Karan shares moments of humour and resilience in his instagram posts. Hi Instagram page rollyrollyshah describes him as Comedian, Canine & Feline Behaviourist and a Bharat Prerna Awardee. He once said that when he visited his therapist to sort through his emotions, the therapist advised him to deal with problems step by step-and laughed. As a child, Karan wanted to be a fashion model. Today, when his wheelchair is pushed up a ramp, he laughs and says, “God gave me a permanent ramp.”Recently, one of Karan’s videos went viral, drawing attention to a harsh reality—how poorly people with disabilities are treated in many parts of the country. One day, while returning from work, Karan found that the lift at the Worli metro station was not working. Unfortunately, Worli is one of the few metro stations equipped with a functioning lift, according to Karan and on that fateful day, it was out of order. There was no way for him to access the metro without a wheelchair-accessible lift.

When he tried to seek help from the authorities, he was met with apathy. Karan waited for 45 minutes, repeatedly calling the emergency helpline. When someone finally responded, he was shockingly asked to “go on foot.” On foot? How does one expect a man in a wheelchair to travel from Worli to Dadar? He turned his camera towards the traffic, showing the busy roads—dangerous even for pedestrians, let alone someone navigating them in a wheelchair.“That night, I wasn’t scared because I’m disabled. I was scared because the system failed me at every step. Lifts, helplines, roads, washrooms-everything made me feel disabled. Living in the current century shouldn’t feel this unsafe. Accessibility is not luxury infrastructure. It’s basic human dignity,” he said.With no other option, Karan wheeled himself from Worli to Dadar on a dangerous road filled with traffic. Along the way, he desperately needed to use a washroom, but not a single one was wheelchair-friendly.“While growing up, I enrolled in Shiamak Davar’s dance classes for children with special needs and cancer. Once, Shiamak came home to meet me and told me I needed an angel in my life. Soon after, he gifted me a female Labrador puppy named Angel. Being a dog lover, I was thrilled,” Karan said in .Determined to train Angel himself, Karan not just managed to train her but also went on to became a certified dog behaviourist. . Growing up in Mumbai was not easy, especially in a city that is far from wheelchair-friendly. His parents struggled to find schools and colleges willing to accept him. After being rejected repeatedly, Karan fell into depression. Many people fail to understand that SMA does not affect intelligence. Eventually, he joined Aditya Birla Integrated School (then known as JBCN). Though not fully accessible, the school provided special support and helped him cope with dyslexia.“Making friends wasn’t easy at first. I was judged for my condition, but my communication skills became my icebreaker. Soon, I was known as the mischievous kid on the motorised wheelchair—pulling pranks, being outspoken, and speaking at every annual function,” he shares.Today, Karan divides his time between two professions: working at his family’s garment retail and manufacturing business, and working as a professional certified canine trainer and behaviourist. He also volunteers with Welfare of Stray Dogs (WSD), a Mumbai-based NGO.The lack of wheelchair accessibility remains his biggest challenge. “I hope this changes, especially in a metro city like Mumbai. It’s not people like me who need advice—it’s the so-called ‘normal’ people who need education,” he says. “We don’t need pity or sympathy. I’m neither special nor disabled—I’m just me.”In one of his Instagram posts, he sarcastically wished people a “Happy World Disability Day”—not to those with disabilities, but to those who truly disable others.“I wish World Disability Day to people who build uneven roads full of potholes; to those who put bollards on footpaths so we can’t access them; to builders who forget accessible entrances but never forget theatres and clubhouses; to brands that promote inclusivity once a year and forget it for the remaining 365 days; to public transport systems that forget a single ramp; to multiplexes that claim accessibility online but fail in reality; to UID centres that make people with disabilities run endlessly for approvals. The only thing disabled in my life is society’s mindset—they are disabled in practice.”These lines raise serious and shameful questions for we as a society. Are we willing to face and accept them?