Seeing Inclusion for the First Time
- aditi93
- Jan 29
- 3 min read

IIn 2010, while studying at the National Institute of Design in Ahmedabad, our founder Aditi Agrawal visited the Blind People’s Association for a research project. At the time, it was one of many academic visits, undertaken with the curiosity and focus of a design student eager to learn.
At the reception sat a cheerful man who was visually impaired. When Aditi asked if she could meet a faculty member, he immediately offered to help. Without hesitation, he stood up and walked her through the building, confidently navigating corridors and turns, leading her directly to the correct cabin. He moved through the space with ease, as though it were second nature.
The moment stayed with her.
It was her first meaningful interaction with someone who was visually impaired. And it brought with it a confusing mix of emotions. There was curiosity and admiration, but also hesitation and discomfort. She was unsure how to respond. She did not want to offend. She noticed herself feeling pity, even as she was impressed by his confidence and independence. She found herself fumbling internally, unsure of what the appropriate reaction should be.
At the time, she did not fully understand why the experience felt so unsettling.
Looking back now, the reason is clear.
It was unfamiliarity.
Many of us grow up without meaningful interactions with people with disabilities. Not because we consciously avoid them, but because they are often absent from our everyday environments. This absence is not a matter of choice. It is the result of infrastructure that does not accommodate difference and public spaces that are not designed with inclusion in mind.
When people are not visible in our daily lives, they remain abstract. When they remain abstract, they are misunderstood. And when understanding is missing, our responses tend to lean towards pity rather than respect.
Pity may appear compassionate on the surface, but it creates distance. Respect, on the other hand, comes from seeing people as capable, complex individuals who navigate the world in their own ways.
That realisation marked an important shift.
It became evident that inclusion is not just a social value or a policy objective. It is a design responsibility.
Inclusion does not begin in textbooks or awareness campaigns alone. It begins in the physical environments we create and the choices we make about who those environments are for. It begins in everyday spaces, the ones we move through without thinking. Parks, playgrounds, schools, community centres, and streets.
Playgrounds, in particular, hold a special significance.
They are some of the first public spaces children experience independently. They are places where children learn how to share space, negotiate differences, take risks, and build confidence. They are environments where social behaviours are not taught explicitly, but absorbed naturally.
When children grow up playing only with others who are similar to them, difference becomes unfamiliar. When they grow up playing alongside children of different abilities, backgrounds, and needs, inclusion becomes normal.
This is why inclusive play matters so deeply.
Not because it checks a box or meets a requirement, but because it shapes how children see the world and their place within it. It helps them grow up without the quiet prejudices that many adults spend years trying to recognise and unlearn.
That brief interaction at the Blind People’s Association was not dramatic or transformative in the moment. There was no grand realisation. But over time, it became a turning point. It planted a seed that would later influence how Gudgudee thinks about design, responsibility, and impact.
At Gudgudee, inclusion is not treated as an add on or a special category. It is fundamental. Inclusive spaces are not optional. They are essential.
Designing for inclusion means acknowledging that people experience spaces differently. It means questioning assumptions about ability, movement, supervision, and participation. It means creating environments that do not single out, but invite everyone in.
Because when spaces are designed for everyone, something subtle but powerful happens.
People begin to see one another.
And when society learns to see everyone, respect follows naturally.

.png)



Comments