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“Cabs should also be asked to accommodate wheelchairs,” observed the Supreme Court of India, on 20 March 2026, while hearing a Public Interest Litigation on first- and last-mile connectivity for persons with disabilities. The bench, led by Justices Vikram Nath and Sandeep Mehta, highlighted the plight of millions of wheelchair users in Indian cities.
In recent years, India has shifted the way it talks about disability. The Government of India now officially uses the term “Divyangjan,” derived from Sanskrit words meaning “one with divine abilities,” replacing older, more limiting language. This was aimed at highlighting the dignity, strengths, and potential of such persons and encourage a more positive societal perception. Several disability rights advocates, however, have called this term “misleading and patronising”. They argue everyday independence and access are shaped not by terminology but by how systems are built.
India has a robust set of policies on paper. The Rights of Persons with Disabilities (RPWD) Act, 2016, mandates accessible infrastructure, services, and transport systems, placing obligations on both public authorities and private operators to ensure non-discrimination and reasonable accommodation.
At the national level, the Department of Empowerment of Persons with Disabilities (DEPwD) under the Union Ministry of Social Justice & Empowerment serves as the nodal body for disability schemes. Many national programmes for assistive devices, rehabilitation and accessibility are implemented directly by DEPwD. For example, through the ADIP (Assistance to Disabled Persons for Purchase/Fitting of Aids & Appliances) scheme, eligible individuals can receive free or subsidised wheelchairs, tricycles, prostheses, and other devices, often through implementing agencies such as ALIMCO or state rehabilitation centres.
In parallel, the Accessible India Campaign (Sugamya Bharat Abhiyan) sets targets for retrofitting public transport, bus terminals, railway stations, and government buildings with ramps, lifts, tactile signage, and accessible toilets. Indian Railways also contributes with reserved seating, travel concessions, and accessible coaches, all linked to the Divyangjan ID card system.
The Union Ministry of Road Transport & Highways (MoRTH) under the Motor Vehicles Act 2019, outlines provisions for accessible transport and driver sensitisation, particularly in the context of evolving urban mobility systems.
Despite policies, the scale of the challenge is huge.
India has roughly 26.8 million persons with disabilities, including over 5 million with locomotor impairments. Of the approximately 6 million who may require wheelchairs, only a fraction have their transportation needs met, revealing a significant gap in accessible mobility.
Estimating the number of wheelchair users is not straightforward. The UDID (Unique Disability ID) dataset records the type of disability: locomotor, visual, hearing, or intellectual/mental, but does not include a single “wheelchair user” flag. The population is therefore approximated by filtering for locomotor or physical impairments and cross-checking with records from schemes such as ADIP or state distribution camps, which show actual wheelchairs provided. While imperfect, this method provides the only available picture of mobility needs.
“Inclusion is not achieved through intent alone. It requires access, opportunity, and strong institutions,” said Stuti N Kacker, former Secretary, DEPwD, recently at Uddeshya 2026, a flagship convening on gender and inclusion hosted by WRI India.
However, these aforementioned provisions often exist more on paper than in practice. Access depends as much on implementation and awareness as on the intent behind the laws. Audits and media reports repeatedly highlight the shortfall: only 33 per cent of Indian courts, 8 per cent of public buses, less than 1 per cent of universities, and less than 50 per cent of government buildings are accessible to persons with disabilities.
For most urban commuters, a cab is just a tap away. For wheelchair users, however, this convenience remains largely out of reach.
“It’s so difficult to book a cab. The moment I mention I use a wheelchair, the cab driver says that it won’t fit and asks me to cancel,” says Meenu Mani, Founder of Yes We Can Foundation. Drivers often cite wear and tear, lack training on securing wheelchairs, or refuse rides outright. Safety is inconsistent, and vehicles may be poorly equipped, making even short trips a challenge.
Wheelchair-accessible vehicles (WAVs) do exist in India, but the landscape is fragmented. In metros such as Delhi, Bengaluru, Mumbai, and Chennai, a patchwork exists; of private operators, NGOs, and pilot programs providing accessible taxis.
For instance, Mobicab in Mumbai supplies wheelchairs during trips and uses specially fitted vehicles with ramps or hydraulic lifts. Lesser-known operators like KickStart Cabs, Freedom Cab, and Buddy Cabs offer vehicles with wheelchair restraints and in-ride support.
Bengaluru’s Mobility India launched its ‘Wheelchair Taxi’ service in 2000, with foldable ramps, driver assistance, and minimal transfers, ensuring comfort for wheelchair users.
Beyond taxis, EzyMov offers a Wheelchair Accessible E-Rickshaw with an easy-access ramp, wheelchair anchoring, dual-purpose seating for caregivers, weather protection, and an eco-friendly lithium-ion battery. This vehicle provides safe, dignified last-mile mobility, especially where taxis or public transport fall short.
Sriram Ojha, a tutor with Cerebral Palsy from the outskirts of Ghaziabad (Khora) in Uttar Pradesh, recounts a grim ordeal from last year, where he had to apply for his UDID card. “I travelled all the way to the district office in Indirapuram, on Monday, only to realise one of my documents was missing, so I had to return the same day, spending Rs 800 both ways. I came back on Thursday, but this time, the stamping officer wasn’t available and had to make the trip yet again.” he says. Any routine application in India is exhausting, largely an analogue system depending on the whims of the sarkari babu handling your file. He adds “Imagine, these repeated journeys and delays eventually cost me nearly Rs 7,000 in order to get my UDID card! On top of this, I even had to book a six-seater Ola cab, just so I could fit in, and the drivers kept asking me to cancel after seeing me at my location due to my disability. To make matters worse, the app didn’t waive my repeated cancellation charges.”
In such cases, drivers’ lack of training, inconsistent safety practices, and social stigma — frequent stares and insensitive behaviour, compound these challenges. As a result, mobility remains a privilege rather than a right, dependent on luck, personal networks, or charitable initiatives.
While private players and mobility aggregators have the potential to scale accessible mobility, it is still often treated as an add-on, not a necessity.
Transport is the foundation of participation. When mobility fails, access to education, healthcare, work, and public life collapses. The result is more than inconvenience, it means reduced workforce participation, lower incomes, and long-term exclusion, especially for persons with disabilities.
Functional mobility, by contrast, opens doors to independence, employment, and demand for services, from assistive technology to urban transport itself. India does not lack pilots or schemes; it lacks end-to-end implementation and consistency. Accessibility cannot be an afterthought; wheelchair users should be able to navigate a city without planning every step on advance or calling ahead, just to find transport.
True independent movement goes beyond ramps and vehicles. It requires trained, sensitised staff who interact respectfully with wheelchair users, reliable last-mile connections, and clear feedback channels. Without these, independent mobility remains out of reach, even when the laws exist on paper. This is the essence of accessible mobility.
Tanya Mittal is a graduate from Lady Shri Ram College for Women with a keen interest in climate policy and international politics. She works as a policy and GR consultant (ex-FICCI)
Surabhi Parida graduated from Hansraj College and is currently a Research Analyst at Reso, with interests in public policy and international relations
Views expressed are the authors’ own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth