My family calls me ‘The Miracle Child’ and survivor.  

Growing up, I attended a mainstream school as my parents did not realise that I had an intellectual disability accompanied by dyslexia. Because of my poor grades, a teacher recommended that I be sent to a private school for children with intellectual disabilities. It broke my Dad’s heart. I remember him crying bitterly at the time, refusing to accept the news that I was different from other children.

It was difficult for my family as they could not afford the fees for a private special education school. My Dad works as a head constable with the Haryana Police Force, while my mum runs a small home business sewing outfits for family and friends. I have an older brother, who is now 16. My Dad sought the help of friends and family, and finally, through a contact, managed to get the fees subsidized.

Changing schools transformed my life. Through my school, I learnt about the Special Olympics movement in India, and was introduced to sports. I remember seeing a group of girls skating, and was inspired by how graceful yet strong they looked when they were in the rink. I wanted to prove to the world that I could be powerful too.

With the encouragement of my Dad, I picked up skating, swimming and cycling. I am thankful that he has been beside me, holding my hand, and cheering me on throughout this entire journey. In the beginning, I was fearful to train with strangers, but Dad was always there to help me overcome my fear.

Neighbours and friends used to say to Dad, “She can’t even walk properly. How do you expect her to skate competitively? What can this girl do?” But he has always believed in me. Apart from my training with Special Olympics, he also engaged private coaches, despite my family’s limited means, so that I can live my dream. Over the past four years, Dad has been taking me to a private skating rink every weekend where I train for up to five hours at a time.

I have since taken part in several inter-school competitions and won medals. Recently, the biggest honour came when I was selected to represent India in short track speed skating at the Special Olympics Invitational Games 2020 held in Sweden. It was my first time on a plane and competing on an international stage.

All I could think of while I was in the rink was winning the gold medal for Dad. I gave it my all and eventually took home two silver medals.

I was so excited I called home immediately to share the news with my family. Through a video call, my mum saw snow for the very first time. I’m proud that in some small way, I’m achieving little miracles and helping my family live their dreams too.

I may walk, learn, and look a little different from others. But in all honesty, are we really that different?  

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When I was 6, Dad died, leaving Mum to take care of my younger brother and I. Mum sold tea to make ends meet. She put up with so much to make sure we survived, not just financially but emotionally too. Callous remarks from neighbours did not help. One time, I fell while playing, and a neighbour commented, “Your son has no brain, he can’t speak, and now he has even hurt himself.”

The comment hurt Mum deeply, but it made her determined to find a school where I would be accepted. Eventually, she found the Vatsalya Special School, for children with intellectual disabilities. Although she could not afford the school fees, it never stopped Mum from fighting to give me the best she could. The school agreed to waive the fees, enabling me to continue my education.

There, I was introduced to sports through the Special Olympics movement. I took to skating and swimming. Sports has changed my life. It taught me discipline and gave me confidence. While I never dared to leave the house on my own before, I am now independent enough to go to school and training by myself.

My teacher Mr Chandrahas Sharma became my coach and mentor. When Mum couldn’t afford the sports equipment needed for my training, Coach Sharma helped to get us subsidies. Because of his encouragement and unwavering belief in me all this time, I had the opportunity to take part in competitions. Whenever I won a medal, I always took it to Dad’s photo to make sure he could see it, in heaven. I hope he’s proud of me.

Recently, I represented India in short track speed skating at the 2020 Special Olympics Invitational Games held in Sweden. More than 450 athletes from 19 countries took part. It’s beyond my wildest dreams that I would one day be good enough to step onto the international stage and be celebrated for what I love best – sports.

I wanted so badly to do my mum proud, and I did. I left the Games with two Gold medals. It was incredible. I was celebrated like a hero when I returned home, at school and in the community.

As I was hoisted on the shoulders of my coaches and team-mates, I felt like a giant. I’m tiny no more.

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I remember the day my baby brother Rishabh was born. It was a difficult day for our family. I was too young then to understand what exactly was wrong, but he was in the intensive care unit for 15 days.

When we eventually took him home, I remember Mum telling my sister Kirti and I that we would have to be gentle with Rishabh and wash our hands whenever we held him. He was such a tiny baby with such pale skin.

Mum and Dad consulted many doctors over the next few months. The doctors said he had a birth defect called microcephaly, where his brain is not fully developed. When Rishabh was six months old, he had to undergo surgery. Mum couldn’t stop crying. We were told that Rishabh’s development would be affected. He would learn slower than other children.

Growing up, it was hard to teach him anything because he struggled to pay attention and was hyperactive. Rishabh didn’t walk until he was two and a half years old. He didn’t speak till he was almost 3, but it was so good to hear didi (older sister in Hindi) from his lips.

I used to spend at least five hours every day teaching him the alphabet and how to count. If he didn’t follow my instructions, I would punish him. But as he grew older, he became more aggressive and had problems controlling his temper.

The children in the neighbourhood called him names like “robot” and “alien”. Some parents told their children to stay away from Rishabh, saying he would harm them as he is “not normal”. When he played cricket with them, they used to make him wait all day for a chance to bat, but his chance would never come. I used to watch this from my room window. Once, I confronted these children and they told me, “We don’t want to play with your pagal (lunatic in Hindi) brother. Take him from here.”

Things got so tough for Rishabh that we decided to move house. We enrolled him in a special education school, and let him stay at the hostel to help him develop better social skills. But the 18 months he spent at the hostel were a challenge for him. He couldn’t get accustomed to the food. His health suffered and he lost a lot of weight. That’s when Mum and Dad decided to take him home.

The turning point for Rishabh came quite by chance when we saw some children skating at a stadium one day. He was eight years old then. It was at the same venue I used to go for my swimming classes. The skating coach there was kind to children and Mum decided to send Rishabh for skating lessons.

He showed a flair for the sport, and within a few months, the coach was sending him for small scale community-level races. A teacher at his school introduced him to Special Olympics in India. He started running daily to build his stamina and trained in inline skating regularly. The International Skating Track was a three-hour drive from where we live, but he tried his best to attend training. On the days that he was unable to go that far, he practised at a nearby school.

Over time, he started taking part in district-level competitions against children without disabilities. He did so well that he has accumulated almost 30 medals over the years. Throughout this journey, we have always been by his side. At every competition, Mum, Dad, Kirti and I are there to cheer him on, make sure his laces are properly tied, and tell him that we believe in him.

Earlier this year, Mum called me while I was at work to inform me that Rishabh had been selected to represent India in skating at the 2019 Special Olympics World Summer Games in Abu Dhabi. I was so overwhelmed with joy that I broke down and cried in front of all my colleagues.

Mum and I took time off to support Rishabh in Abu Dhabi. Watching my 16-year-old brother march into the stadium with the rest of the India contingent during the Opening Ceremony of the Games was an experience beyond words. We were so proud.

Abu Dhabi was an unforgettable experience for all of us. Rishabh clinched the gold medal in the 1,000-metre race and bronze medals in the 2×100-metre relay and 300-metre races. When Mum shared the news with our friends and relatives, the accolades flooded in. The same people who had told us we were wasting our time on Rishabh could now see his transformation through sports and wanted to know how they could also get their children involved in similar programs.

Before the World Games, my brother was loved by us, his family. Now, he is loved by the nation. Special Olympics has given him the chance to be recognized and respected. I will continue to help my brother to help others. He now has the power to inspire others, and show the world that nothing is impossible.

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