It’s about 9 pm, I'm sitting in an Uber cab and the person I'm pooling with is wearing sunglasses.
He is consoling someone over the phone, saying that he will be there for her. After his call gets over, I suddenly hear strange voices in the cab.
He is hearing Whatsapp and Facebook messages, sticking the Android phone, close to his ear, sticking to the cheek.
I glance over his phone’s lit screen. Foodpanda, Gmail, Flipkart, Whatsapp, Facebook, Ola, Google drive, of course Uber. I notice, he did not see me.
I hear all those life motivational forwards on his Whatsapp, being read rapidly by an American accented male voice.
“It’s a wonder you can decode the language when it is in a foreign accent. That too when it is playing superfast,” I remark, breaking the ice between us.
“It has become a habit now,” he says. I address him Hemant - the name displaying on the UberPool app.
“I am Raman; Hemant is just an alias to earn another free ride with Uber. I created a fake account,” he tells me.
A graduate of St Stephen’s College in Delhi, Raman got picked up from Corporation Bank, where he works, near Connaught Place. The security guard from the bank helped him board Uber, the driver told me, later.
My favourite app
“Which is your favourite app?,” I ask.
“Uber is one of the most accessible,” he tells me. Android speech reader can easily read the buttons on the Uber app.
“What about Ola?,” I ask.
“There is a challenge with Ola and some other apps. They make ‘stars’ to rate drivers and don’t write text at the bottom - I can’t read. We cannot rate the driver,” he tells me.
In most apps, a new ride or booking cannot take place, if you haven’t rated your previous driver or service provider.
“App makers should remember us, as well. I have written multiple times to Ola asking for their developers to make the app accessible to all. There has been no reply,” he tells me.
The cab passes by Lutyens Delhi Bungalow zone. “Houses are getting lit up. There will be a Diwali Mela here soon,” I tell him. “We are crossing the Oberoi Hotel flyover,” I underline.
“Yes, the Diwali mela by the school children of Blind Relief Association. That’s where I am from. I studied there till class twelve,” Raman tells me. I could sense his heart fill with nostalgia.
We go back to talking about apps.
The problem of Captcha
“What about Facebook and Whatsapp?,” I ask.
“On Whatsapp I don’t know if a friend of mine has seen my message. Whatsapp displays a blue tick. But my Android speech reader cannot read symbols,” Raman tells me.
Another big challenge with many apps is the ‘captcha, which makes them unusable by millions around the world. India has about 15 million of the 39 million visually impaired people in the world. Facebook asks users to read captcha and so does Google, when you forget your account. However there are about 39 million people in the world who can’t.
“If you make a captcha mandatory for logging into a Facebook or internet banking account, we can’t use the app,” he tells me.
In India, HDFC Bank uses captcha, IRCTC provides a customised app for the specially-abled, to let them book trains.
When apps are #NotOkay
Accessible apps write the sign ‘Ok’ on the buttons.
“Some apps just make an enter symbol instead of writing ‘Ok’. I can’t use that,” he says, even as the cab passes the Dargah of Hazrat Nizamuddin, a Sufi saint. He senses the mosque is nearby with humdrum of the devout.
“Please go straight, he tells the driver.”
As we turn into Jangpura, there is a traffic jam, perhaps due to the weekend Diwali shoppers.
“Do you buy online,” I ask.
“Yes, I do. My suggestion to e-commerce companies is to write ‘Buy’ on their buttons rather than just making a cart symbol. I use both Flipkart and Amazon,” Raman tells me.
As we pass by a Diwali bazaar he can sense the bylanes. Sounds of a temple bell nearby, the smell of a dairy shop and the bark of a familiar dog. “There is a park on your left,” he tells the driver.
“You’ve reached your destination,” Google navigation announces to the driver.
“Can you please hold my hand?,” he asks me.
I get out of the cab and hold his hand. He guides me.
We struggle through the crowded Diwali bazaar. The shopkeepers are selling gold painted earthen diyas, red and yellow candles, strings of artificial flowers hand on top of each other in various hues. Chinese lanterns are a favorite, it seems. Blue, pink and purple. Lanterns shaped as orange flowers hang from makeshift bamboo canes. Gods have found their place too in the humdrum. Idols of Ganesha and Lakshmi are stacked in rows.
Strings of yellow led bulbs lights up the Bazaar. Rockets, wheels, torches, sparklers and fountains - fireworks of all variety are in full display. Kids are seen arguing with parents at cracker shops. The shopkeepers gaze at us and then turn a blind eye. The hordes press against us. We get split twice. I go back to search Raman and hold his hand again.
“There will be a motorcycle near a staircase at the end of the lane,” he remarks.
“Yes, I can see.”
“Should I escort you up?”
‘No. Am fine. Thank you,” he says, grabbing a railing on the staircase.
How Apps have made world safer
After dropping Raman, I ask Hukam Singh, the driver, on whether Uber is used by a lot of specially-abled.
“Students of colleges for women for the visually impaired in Delhi often hail Uber. I park my car and escort them to the house. It is our responsibility,” says Hukam.
With the arrival of taxi, food or grocery ordering and shopping apps, life for specially-abled youth of India has become better. They can now order food at home than being dependent upon someone to cook. harsimran.julka@network18online.com(An earlier version of this opinion piece appeared on Medium)
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