There are moments in our collective history when a quiet shift begins. Not with noise or fanfare, but with clarity. A shift in how we see ourselves, one another, and the systems we live in.

This is how I experienced the Purple Economy Leadership Talk, hosted by the Indian Institute of Management, Bangalore, in collaboration with EnAble India, an organisation that has been working for over twenty-five years to enable livelihoods for persons with disabilities (PwDs) in India.

Titled “Unlocking $18 Trillion in Global Opportunity,” the event, held on 2nd June 2025, asked a simple question: What if the world stopped seeing disability as a burden — and started seeing it as an economic opportunity? It addressed, specifically, the untapped economic potential, spending power, and contributions of the global disability community. 

The “purple economy” is a framework or a concept which urges us to look at people with disabilities through their economic potential and influence, similar to how the rainbow economy describes the purchasing power of the LGBTQIA+ community. The framework challenges how businesses, governments, and society think about why accessibility needs to be made an everyday priority. The idea is to see these investments not as charity, but as an engine of growth, innovation, and profitability.

The Purple Economy Leadership Talk event focused on this concept – but the event wasn’t purely about numbers or data. What remained with me at the end of the day were silences, laughter, anecdotes, and uncomfortable questions that challenged the status quo of work on disability inclusion. 

The reframing of the conversation started like this: often, when we talk about inclusion and accessibility, it sounds like something we need to do later; once the “important” things are done. 

But what if inclusion was the starting point? 

The IIM Bangalore campus, where the event was held, proved to be an example. Everywhere I looked, I noticed that inclusion was deliberately built in and it created a warm, thoughtful space. It was refreshing to see accessibility checks right at the beginning of the event. Closed captions, check. Interpreters, check. Wheelchair-friendly seating, check. Audio and lighting accommodations, check. Above all, inclusion as the conversation and not an afterthought.

When the event began, I pulled out my notebook, expecting to see slides upon slides of graphs and policy jargon. But I didn’t know how to take notes on what came next — because the core of the conversations wasn’t just information. It was stories. Emotions. 

Shanti Raghavan, Founder of EnAble India opened the event by saying,  “We could show value more easily to people who could not see value—when the person is economically independent.” It was a simple sentence, but defined the philosophy behind disability inclusion centered on economics. She went on to explain the Purple Economy concept, and established  that our way of seeing people with disabilities needs to move “from seeing people with disabilities as beneficiaries to seeing them as employees, entrepreneurs, taxpayers, change-makers, innovators.”.

“The global economy loses 5–7% of its GDP simply by not employing people with disabilities,” Deepesh Sutariya, co-founder of EnAble India, said. “And yet, when global economists were asked how many governments had seriously considered this as an economic opportunity, the answer was: none.” 

Hearing that single statistic drove home a larger truth for me. That the Purple Economy isn’t just a moral imperative. It’s an economic one. It fills the gap that traditional diversity and rights-based frameworks haven’t managed to solve—the gap of value, innovation, and profit.

So, what if we started framing accessibility not just as compliance, but as creative innovation? What if the absence of inclusion isn’t seen as a “gap” but as an “opportunity”? Let’s look at an everyday example of assistive tools that can reframe how we think of accessibility: Spectacles. Without them, so many sighted people are persons with disabilities. “Eyeglasses, once elite, are now a $170 billion global industry,” Shanti said. “The world adjusted to the needs of our eyes. So now, wearing glasses is not ‘special needs.’” 

This made me think—what if ramps were seen like roads? What if every diagnosis of disability was followed by a call from a counsellor; someone who walks an individual through assistive devices, legal rights, education or employment possibilities? What if children with disabilities had “education agents” just like families have insurance agents — someone to advocate, explain laws, and unlock access that otherwise takes years? These aren’t a description of utopia. They’re just things we haven’t built yet. 

Some things we have built, and there were representatives who showed us how it’s done in the room. The Bangalore International Airport (BIAL), which has introduced sensory rooms, PRM services, tactile walkways, and WhatsApp-based support systems for travellers with disabilities. Another example is the collaboration of EnAble India with Namma Yatri, the local ride-hailing service that’s changed autorickshaw culture in Bengaluru. The cab service embedded a simple feature – when a blind user books a ride, the driver automatically receives a one-minute awareness video explaining basic etiquette and needs. A tiny nudge. The outcome? ₹6 crore in revenue. Two lakh drivers. Two lakh users. Inclusion, not as obligation, but as innovation.

These are examples of “chronic” infrastructure, the kind of long-term, systemic change that makes access feel like a norm, not an exception. The contrast is with “acute” moments of inclusion which are things that happen during a campaign or specific event. Moses Chowdari Gorrepati, now the Chief Operating Officer at EnAble India, emphasised this by saying, “When we build accessibility, we’re not just helping a person use a product. We’re helping the person who builds it. We’re building an economy that is kinder, yes—but also smarter.” 

I kept thinking about the idea of participation; how we assume people are not “able” simply because we didn’t imagine them in our design process.

There were other stories of joyful innovation – vibrating jackets for deaf audiences which made their way into five Coldplay concerts across India, turning music into an inclusive experience; platforms such as Rang De and Sattva are enabling social investments in underserved sectors, including farming, disability inclusion, and women-led enterprises; and The Lalit Group introducing initiatives like Purple Dot, which flags guests with accessibility needs. 

These stories didn’t just move me. They were a reminder that the questions we ask of disability inclusion shouldn’t only come from what we read. They should come from what we observe, what we listen to, and what we choose to do with that discomfort. At its core, inclusion is about reimagining value. Not just for persons with disabilities, but for the systems that surround them. It’s about realising that the current infrastructure doesn’t fail because of money. It fails because of design. And that failure of these systems to look at disability inclusion as a starting point isn’t just a problem. 

It’s our chance to do better.