Nine women waited backstage in Jaipur on a winter evening in 2025.
For some, it was the first time they had travelled alone. For others, it was the first time they were stepping into the spotlight without fear or hesitation.
When their names were announced, they rolled onto the stage in their wheelchairs and faced an audience of more than 350 people. Then they danced.
For the women on stage, it became a moment of being seen, heard and celebrated on their own terms.
The event was called Astitva 2025. Astitva means existence or identity, and for the women who performed that night, it captured exactly what the evening represented.
Behind that moment stood Priya Sharma, the woman who had worked to make the stage, and the journey to it, possible.
An accident, and a new question about life
Priya Sharma’s journey into this work began with an abrupt rupture.
Originally from Chhindwara, Madhya Pradesh, Priya came from a rural, lower-middle-class family. Before the accident, she had completed her MCom and a postgraduate diploma in computer applications, and had worked across sectors such as BPO, education and recruitment. She was focused on building a stable career, becoming financially independent and supporting her family.
In September 2018, a road accident left her with a spinal cord injury. She became a wheelchair user overnight.
The spinal cord injury that left her paraplegic changed those plans, forcing her to rebuild her life from scratch. For her, the aftermath was social and deeply personal. “There were days when even small tasks felt impossible,” she says. “And harder than that was the question, what does life look like now?”
The fear of dependence crept in. So did the awareness of how disability is seen. Silence became part of daily life. So did self-doubt. But recovery, in her case, came in small, difficult steps.
With consistent effort and family support, she was learning to navigate daily routines again. But the larger question remained: what would she do next?
The wedding dance that brought joy back
Then came her sister’s wedding. At the wedding, Priya hesitated to participate. Social gatherings had become unfamiliar territory for her by then.
But her siblings, as siblings often do, insisted she join. They would not let her sit out the celebration. She sat in her wheelchair and danced at her sister’s sangeet (pre-wedding musical celebration).
Was it easy? Priya had no answer to this question. “It was the first time I felt joy after the accident,” she tells The Better India.
That moment offered her a direction. Dance, she understood, was a recognition of self.
But Priya was never a professional dancer, nor had she been deeply involved in dance before this. “In 2019, during my sister’s wedding, I experienced something very emotional. I saw everyone dancing, celebrating, and enjoying themselves, and somewhere inside, I also wanted to be part of that happiness. So, sitting in my wheelchair, I danced, not perfectly, but simply with joy,” Priya says.
Priya is a para-athlete and has represented Rajasthan.
“After that, I occasionally danced informally, mostly for happiness and self-expression.”
Later, one of her close friends and fellow para-athlete, Ekta Bhaiyan, encouraged her to think about dance as an instrument for change. That idea resonated with Priya because she had already experienced how dance could emotionally transform someone.
As she connected with other women with disabilities, she realised that opportunities were limited and platforms for them were nearly absent. She began trying to bring women together and explore wheelchair dance as a collective practice.
“So in 2024, I started Dance With Wheels, honestly, without a big plan in the beginning,” she adds.
Dance With Wheels (DWW) began with three or four women.
“The early sessions were very simple, emotional, and honestly quite unstructured because we mostly met online, as everyone lived in different states and travelling is not easy for wheelchair users,” Priya shares.
She adds, “In the beginning, there was no formal choreography or professional setup. We would join on video calls, talk about life, laugh, share our struggles, and slowly try basic movements together while sitting in wheelchairs.”
Sometimes, they practised hand movements and expressions. Sometimes, they selected songs together and simply enjoyed dancing in whatever way they could.
“Many girls were initially hesitant even to turn their cameras on because of low confidence or fear of judgement,” Priya says.
Over time, the sessions naturally became more structured. For many participants, DWW became a safe community.
There was no funding. Just a WhatsApp group and weekly online sessions. Priya often covered small costs herself to ensure participants could stay connected. “It didn’t feel like an organisation in the beginning,” says Priya. “It felt like a conversation.”
That conversation began drawing in women who had been looking for a space like this, even before they had the words for it.
Building the space they had been missing
One of the women who joined Priya in building this space was Nidhi Gosalia, whose own relationship with dance had survived years of limited mobility and shrinking social spaces. “In 2020, when stepping out became difficult, dancing stayed with me,” Priya’s team-mate Nidhi Gosalia shares.
Nidhi lives with cerebral palsy, a neurological condition that affects mobility. “Walking is difficult for me,” she says. “But I have always been a dancer. I used to dance in my special school. That part of me never went away.”
When Priya came across Nidhi’s dance videos online, she reached out. “I was Priya’s first teammate,” Nidhi says. “I just knew I wanted to support what she was building.”
“For me, dance is therapy. It works on my body, but also on my mind.”: Nidhi Gosalia
Today, Nidhi is one of the key performers with Dance With Wheels. But she remembers how unfamiliar the idea felt in the beginning. “Most of us didn’t even know something like this could exist,” she says. “Not just dance, but a space where we are not explained, not pitied.”
Before joining DWW, her world had gradually begun to shrink. “You lose more than mobility,” she says. “You lose social space. You stop being invited. You stop being asked.”
Dance became a way for her to reclaim that space on her own terms. “I don’t even do physiotherapy in the usual sense,” she says. “For me, dance is therapy. It works on my body, but also on my mind.”
Her connection to dance is constant, almost instinctive. “I can wake up at 3 am and feel like dancing,” she says. “That’s how much I love it.”
When DWW organised Astitva 2025 in Jaipur, it marked her return to a physical stage after years.
“That performance was my first after school,” she says. “Standing there again, it felt like I had come back to myself. Even my parents came to cheer me on.”
What made the experience especially meaningful, she adds, was the journey leading up to it. “It started as a weekly session,” she recalls. “We would talk, share, try movements. There was no pressure to perform. That’s what made it powerful.”
For many women, that sense of support and belonging became the reason they stayed. One of them was Akansha Singh from Fatehpur, Uttar Pradesh, who remembers joining her first session with hesitation.
Akansha had been living with a spinal tumour for years. She was first diagnosed in 2007 when she was in Class 10, and then again in 2015 when the tumour recurred. The condition significantly weakened her right knee. Multiple rounds of treatment and physiotherapy followed, but recovery remained slow and uncertain.
“There were times when I felt I was not getting better,” she says. “Doctors told me reversal would be difficult.”
“Earlier, I would avoid every social space. Now I wait for performances. That is not a small change.”: Akanksha Singh
The physical challenges were only part of the struggle. A fracture during this period pushed her into a phase of depression. “My life was limited to four walls,” she says. “I had stopped going out, stopped meeting people.”
So when she first encountered Dance With Wheels, she was unsure of where she fit in. “I didn’t know how to move. I didn’t even know if I should try,” she says. “But Priya kept saying, ‘Start where you are.’”
Akansha began with small movements. Over time, she started noticing changes. In an interview with The Better India, she says her body felt less rigid and the tightness gradually eased. But the biggest shift was in her confidence. “I started dancing regularly. My strength improved,” she says. “More than anything, I realised I can live again.”
Today, she attends dance sessions twice a week and looks forward to performing. “Earlier, I would avoid every social space,” she says. “Now I wait for performances. That is not a small change.”
When dance becomes identity
Today, Dance With Wheels has connected with over 45 women and girls with disabilities across 16 states in India, with different levels of active participation depending on health, accessibility and personal circumstances.
Some attend sessions regularly, while others engage through WhatsApp, online community discussions, events or performances. Many women join when they are emotionally struggling after disability and later become more active as they regain confidence.
At DWW, dance is framed as a way to rebuild identity. “There is no right or wrong here,” says Priya.
The sessions include discussions on daily challenges, access, confidence and visibility. “You realise you are not alone,” she adds. “That is the first step.”
For many, the impact is visible in speaking more openly, travelling independently and participating in public spaces.
“We conduct structured online sessions primarily through Google Meet and Zoom, including regular wheelchair dance training, fitness and well-being activities, mentoring conversations, story-sharing sessions, and community interactions,” explains Priya.
“We also organise virtual celebrations, awareness activities, and occasional guest sessions. Soon, we are planning to introduce Digital Skills Training to create more learning and livelihood opportunities for women with disabilities.”
The night they took the stage in Jaipur
Astitva 2025 was created as an impact event to give girls and women with disabilities, especially wheelchair users, an opportunity to perform on a public stage, build confidence, and experience visibility, celebration and community.
Priya clarifies that the nine participants were not chosen through a competition. They were part of the larger DWW community and came together through months of online practice, conversations and preparation for the stage.
For several participants, it was their first journey outside their home cities. For some, it was their first train ride.
They had prepared virtually for months. Coordinating across locations was not easy, especially with different health needs, access challenges and personal schedules.
Priya says, “For months, we practised virtually through Google Meet sessions. Trainers taught the choreography online, participants practised at home, and we kept refining the movements together. Since everyone had different physical abilities and mobility levels, routines had to be adapted carefully for each participant.”
When participants arrived in Jaipur, they did intensive in-person rehearsals before the performance. It was the first time many of them practised together physically in one room.
The group also shared practice videos, received individual feedback and repeated sections many times.
“It was challenging because of internet issues, health concerns, pain management, and different personal schedules and daily routines, but the commitment of the girls was incredible,” she says.
When participants arrived in Jaipur, they did intensive in-person rehearsals before the performance. It was the first time many of them practised together physically in one room, and Priya says it felt emotional to see virtual connections come alive.
In many ways, Astitva 2025 was built through passion, trust and collective effort. For many of the girls, this was their first time travelling independently, meeting other women who use wheelchairs in person, staying away from home or performing live on stage.
Astitva means existence or identity, and for the women who performed that night, it captured exactly what the evening represented.
“Some of the girls were crying because, for the first time in their lives, people were clapping for them instead of feeling sorry for them,” Priya shares.
Many had spent years feeling invisible, dependent or judged because of disability. But that day, they were seen as artists first.
One participant came up to Priya and told her, “Didi, today I forgot I have a disability.”
Priya says this with a wide smile. “It was actually about showing up.”
Beyond the stage
Priya’s work extends outside DWW.
She is a para-athlete and has represented Rajasthan. She won a gold medal in javelin throw and a silver in shot put at the 15th Madhya Pradesh State Para Athletics Championship in 2025. She is also a peer mentor with The Ganga Foundation, where she supports individuals with spinal cord injuries in rebuilding independence.
Together, her work in dance, peer mentoring and disability advocacy has become a way to help others navigate life after disruption.
But Priya does not position herself as a figurehead. She believes in creating conditions where others can lead. Several DWW members now facilitate sessions, mentor newcomers and represent the platform in their own regions. The structure is still evolving. But its core remains rooted in accessibility and inclusion.
“Earlier, we would say I am someone with a disability,” says Priya. “Now we say we’re dancers.”
For Priya and her team, that shift carries the real win. They are building a space where movement becomes memory, confidence and identity.
