When Calicut Beach Found Its Voice: Kerala’s Disability Fest That Taught Inclusion A New Language
By the time the Arabian Sea dissolved into nightfall, Calicut Beach had ceased to be merely a promenade of leisure. It had transformed into a listening ground—a public classroom where applause did not signal an ending but the beginning of a longer, unfinished conversation about rights, dignity and belonging.
For most evenings, Kozhikode Beach moves to a familiar rhythm. Vendors call out to passers-by, families gather over salted peanuts and sunsets, and tourists pause for photographs against the restless horizon. Yet, over the past few days, the shoreline carried a different gravity. Conversations lingered longer than the breeze. Ramps, signboards, stalls and performance spaces became more than functional installations; they turned into quiet arguments for a more inclusive society. The first edition of the Kerala Disability Festival (KDF) concluded here not as a cultural spectacle alone but as a pointed social intervention—one that asked Kerala to reconsider how it builds cities, frames language and imagines citizenship.
A Closing That Opened New discourses
The festival’s concluding ceremony unfolded amid a swelling crowd along the beach and was inaugurated by Kozhikode District Panchayat President Milli Mohan. Her address balanced celebration with caution. The dialogues sparked during the festival, she noted, had already begun to ripple through public consciousness. But awareness, she warned, must move beyond sentiment and translate into structural change.
When Calicut Beach Found Its Voice: Kerala’s Disability Fest That Taught Inclusion A New Language
Public spaces, she argued, cannot remain neutral in design yet exclusionary in practice. They must be consciously reshaped so that persons with disabilities are not accommodated as an afterthought but recognised as equal participants in civic life. Mohan assured that the district administration would work towards expanding welfare measures and inclusive policies in the coming years. At the same time, her remarks carried an implicit acknowledgement: progressive laws alone are insufficient without sustained social pressure and political will. Festivals like KDF, she said, convert lived experience into public discourse—and that discourse into democratic demand.
Reimagining the City of Inclusivity
Presiding over the closing session, Kavitha Arun, Chairperson of the Kozhikode Municipal Corporation’s Welfare Standing Committee, shifted attention from celebration to introspection. Kozhikode, she said, must aspire to become a fully disability-friendly urban space—not symbolically but practically.
Transformation, she insisted, begins with listening. Too often, policies addressing disability are drafted without meaningful consultation with the communities they claim to serve. The result is a familiar paradox: solutions that appear efficient on paper yet fail in everyday life. Arun pledged that future initiatives would prioritise participatory planning, involving persons with disabilities at every stage—from conceptualisation to execution. Only then, she argued, could Kozhikode move beyond rhetoric and become a model inclusive city.
From Sentiment to Evidence
One of the festival’s defining features was its insistence on evidence-based discourse. A month before the event, a research study led by Dr Ijaz Pilla brought together research scholars to examine accessibility in public spaces, prevailing social attitudes and the broader public’s suggestions for change.
When Calicut Beach Found Its Voice: Kerala’s Disability Fest That Taught Inclusion A New Language
The findings, presented during the festival, mapped realities long articulated by activists but rarely documented systematically. Public infrastructure continues to privilege able-bodied users. Accessibility measures remain inconsistent, often reduced to token gestures. Social attitudes oscillate between pity and neglect, with dignity rarely occupying the centre of representation.
Presentations by Shabari, Raees Hidaya, Bavish Bal and Maya Arun translated data into lived experiences: navigating footpaths that vanish without warning, public offices without ramps or tactile signage, digital platforms inaccessible to screen readers and emergency systems designed for only one kind of body.
From these discussions emerged a series of demands notable for their clarity and political urgency.
Language, Media and Structural Change
Foremost among the proposals was a call to abandon euphemistic and patronising terminology such as “bhinnasheshikkar,” “divyangjan” and “vaikalyam.” Organisers urged the government to adopt the term “disability” officially, aligning language with rights-based frameworks. Words that portray disabled persons as objects of charity or divine exception, speakers argued, ultimately deny them full citizenship.
Participants also proposed the creation of a Disability Media Stylebook to guide ethical, accurate and dignified representation across print, broadcast and digital platforms. Inspiration tropes and sensational narratives, they warned, may appear harmless but reinforce stereotypes that shape policy priorities and social attitudes.
Equally forceful was the demand for mandatory accessibility audits across government and private public spaces, including digital systems. Accessibility, organisers emphasised, cannot rely on goodwill alone; institutions failing to meet standards must face legal consequences. A comprehensive disability census covering all 21 categories recognised under the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (RPWD) Act was also proposed to address gaps in data-driven policymaking.
Education emerged as another critical front. The festival recommended integrating disability education into school curricula from an early age and conducting curriculum-level audits to eliminate stereotypes in textbooks and learning materials. Participants also questioned the dominance of the wheelchair icon as the singular symbol of disability, calling for a more inclusive emblem reflecting diverse impairments.
Culture as a Political Space
Beyond policy debates and research findings, KDF derived its strength from culture. Sessions ranged from disability representation in cinema and political participation to community-based rehabilitation, invisible disabilities, disaster preparedness, universal accessibility and inclusive transport systems.
Activists, scholars, artists, doctors and community leaders shared the stage, each offering a different lens on the same fundamental question: who gets to belong, and on what terms? The presence of multiple disabilities within a shared public space itself became a political statement, narrowing the social distance between disabled and non-disabled communities.
By occupying Kozhikode Beach—a site of everyday leisure—the festival disrupted the assumption that disability discourse belongs only within conference halls or policy documents. Inclusion became visible, audible and participatory.
A Story That Anchored the clarity
Amid the speeches and panels, one story surfaced repeatedly, quietly shaping the festival’s philosophy. A young girl named Judy was once denied admission to a school with the explanation: “In case of a fire, she will not be able to escape on her own.” Safety became the language of exclusion.
Years later, Judy Heumann would respond with stark clarity: “I was not a fire hazard.” In her autobiography Being Heumann, she wrote that it was not her body that failed but a system unwilling to imagine her presence. The irony remains striking—societies capable of protecting monarchs often fail to safeguard a wheelchair-using child. The failure lies not in the child but in design and empathy.
Heumann would go on to become one of the most influential disability rights activists in the world, recognised by the BBC among the world’s most influential women and honoured by Time magazine. Once excluded from classrooms, she later received multiple honorary doctorates and advised American Presidents from Bill Clinton to Barack Obama.
In Netflix’s Crip Camp (2020), she offered a defining statement: “Disabled people are not looking for a cure. We are looking for a community.” For many gathered on Kozhikode Beach, that line felt less like a quotation and more like a lived reality.
Why Call It a Disability Festival?
Even before its opening, KDF sparked debate about its name. Was “disability” too blunt? Did it undermine years of linguistic softening? Organisers acknowledged the discomfort but chose to retain the term after extensive deliberation.
Their reasoning was political rather than provocative. Historically, disability has been framed through medical and charity models that locate the “problem” within the individual body. The Social Model of Disability offers an alternative perspective, distinguishing between impairment and disability. Impairment refers to physical, sensory or cognitive conditions, while disability emerges when social and architectural barriers restrict participation.
Ableism—the systemic privileging of certain bodies and minds—creates exclusion. Naming disability accurately, organisers argued, is the first step toward dismantling these structures. The festival’s title was therefore a deliberate declaration that disability is not a personal tragedy but a political condition shaped by design, policy and power.
KDF 2026: New Politics of Inclusion
When the Kerala Disability Festival (KDF) unfolded along Kozhikode Beach from January 29 to February 1, 2026, it marked more than the arrival of a cultural event. It signalled the beginning of a deeper shift within Kerala’s social consciousness—an attempt to redefine how society understands disability, participation and democracy itself. Organised under the banner “Towards an Inclusive Society,” the festival was not a ceremonial slogan but a deliberate political and social intervention against decades of marginalisation faced by persons with disabilities.
At its heart, KDF framed disability as a natural part of human diversity rather than an exception to be corrected or pitied. The gathering sought to reposition disability at the centre of social life—moving away from tokenistic gestures toward structural transformation. Conversations between activists and scholars, including dialogues featuring Shabari and Dr Bindu Lakshmi, reflected a critical insight: disability does not arise from an individual’s body alone. Instead, it emerges from inaccessible buildings, communication barriers and social systems unwilling to adapt. By foregrounding this social model of disability, the festival reminded Kerala that removing such barriers is not an act of charity but a democratic obligation.
Rethinking Language, Rethinking Politics
One of the most powerful interventions made by the festival lay in its critique of language. Words commonly used in everyday conversation—terms that frame disability through sympathy or divine exceptionalism—came under scrutiny. Organisers argued that such expressions, while seemingly respectful, often reinforce inspirational stereotyping, presenting disabled persons as extraordinary symbols rather than citizens with rights and everyday struggles.
In place of paternalistic terminology, the festival advocated for the rights-based expression “person with disability,” emphasising dignity and equality. Language, speakers insisted, is not a neutral tool; it shapes public perception and policy direction. When disability is framed through charity, society tends to respond with temporary assistance. When it is framed through rights, it demands structural change.
The resolutions emerging from KDF urged policymakers to move beyond viewing disabled individuals merely as beneficiaries of welfare schemes. Instead, they called for their equal participation in decision-making processes, cultural initiatives and governance structures. To make such participation meaningful, the festival proposed a dedicated disability census covering all 21 categories recognised under the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (RPWD) Act of 2016. Participants also stressed the need for a comprehensive white paper evaluating the effectiveness of existing reservation policies and support systems.
Inclusion as an Ongoing harmonious Process
A central lesson repeated throughout the festival was that inclusion cannot be reduced to symbolic celebrations. It is a continuous process requiring systemic reform. Among the key proposals was the introduction of mandatory accessibility audits across Kerala—covering public spaces, government offices, private institutions and digital platforms. Such audits, organisers argued, would transform accessibility from a voluntary gesture into a legal obligation.
Urban infrastructure emerged as another crucial area for reform. Roads, transport systems and buildings must be redesigned to serve not only wheelchair users but individuals across the full spectrum of disabilities. Universal accessibility, speakers emphasised, benefits all citizens—from older adults and pregnant women to children and people recovering from injuries.
Education was highlighted as a site where long-term transformation could begin. KDF called for curricular reforms that introduce disability awareness from early childhood, enabling students to grow up with a culture of inclusion rather than prejudice. Schools themselves must become accessible environments where children with disabilities are not segregated or excluded. The festival also envisioned curriculum audits to ensure that textbooks and learning materials represent disability accurately and respectfully.
Community-Based Care and Local Governance
Another significant theme emerging from the festival was the need for community-level support systems. Organisers proposed the establishment of ward-level community care homes and support networks through local self-government institutions. Such initiatives could ease the burden on families while promoting independent living and social participation for persons with disabilities.
These proposals reflect a shift from institutional or medicalised approaches toward community-based rehabilitation. Instead of isolating individuals in specialised centres, the festival advocated for inclusive neighbourhoods where support services are integrated into everyday life. This model aligns with Kerala’s decentralised governance structure, positioning local bodies as key actors in building inclusive communities.
Recognising Invisible Disabilities
The festival also expanded public discourse by addressing invisible disabilities—conditions that are not immediately visible yet significantly affect daily functioning. Mental health challenges, learning disabilities and neurodivergent conditions were highlighted as areas often overlooked in mainstream policy discussions. Participants urged that inclusive frameworks must recognise these experiences, ensuring that support systems are not limited to visible impairments alone.
A related proposal questioned the dominance of the wheelchair icon as the universal symbol of disability. While widely recognised, it represents only a fraction of disabled experiences. KDF called for the development of a new inclusive disability symbol that reflects the diversity of conditions recognised under law and lived in society.
Kozhikode as a Model Inclusive City
Among the festival’s most ambitious goals was a proposal to transform Kozhikode into India’s first model inclusive city within three years. This vision extends beyond infrastructure to encompass governance, cultural life and civic participation. Accessible public transport, inclusive urban planning, digital accessibility standards and participatory policymaking would form the backbone of this transformation.
Supporters argue that Kozhikode’s vibrant public spaces and strong civic culture make it an ideal testing ground for such an initiative. If implemented effectively, the city could serve as a template for other municipalities across India, demonstrating that inclusion is not a theoretical aspiration but an achievable urban reality.
Beyond Charity, Towards Citizenship
Perhaps the most enduring legacy of KDF lies in its insistence that disability rights are inseparable from democratic values. By shifting the narrative from sympathy to citizenship, the festival reframed inclusion as a collective responsibility. Cultural performances, panel discussions and experiential exhibits allowed participants to engage with disability not as an abstract issue but as a lived reality.
The festival’s broader message was clear: inclusion is not an act of generosity but a measure of social justice. A society that excludes certain bodies and minds undermines its own democratic foundations. Conversely, a society that redesigns itself to accommodate diversity strengthens its civic fabric.
Opening a New humanitarian Chapter
As the crowds dispersed from Kozhikode Beach, organisers emphasised that KDF was not an isolated event but the beginning of a sustained movement. The festival’s resolutions—ranging from accessibility audits and curriculum reforms to inclusive urban planning and policy participation—now await translation into concrete action.
Kerala Disability Festival 2026 has opened a new door in the state’s social imagination. By challenging entrenched attitudes and proposing practical reforms, it has pushed the conversation beyond charity labels toward a politics of dignity and rights. The task ahead lies not only with policymakers and activists but with every citizen willing to rethink the meaning of inclusion.
In redefining disability as an issue of justice rather than exception, KDF has offered Kerala a new social vocabulary—one grounded in equality, participation and shared humanity. The question now is whether society will carry that language forward into its institutions, its cities and its everyday life.
More Beginning Than end
Long after the formal closing ceremony ended, Kozhikode Beach remained crowded well past 10 pm, conversations continuing beneath the night sky. General Convenor Dr Idris announced that the second edition of the Kerala Disability Festival will take place from January 27 to 30, 2027. By then, organisers hope that many of the demands articulated here will have begun to translate into policy and practice.
What began on Kozhikode’s shoreline now carries the momentum of an inclusive movement. It draws its strength from those long excluded and its clarity from voices long unheard. The Kerala Disability Fest insisted that inclusion is not an act of charity but a measure of democracy—and that the language of dignity must be spoken not only on stages but in streets, schools and systems that shape everyday life.
