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“I love making jewellery, eating French fries, and playing video games with my brother”

She was born on 1 June 1996 in Chandigarh. Nikita’s arrival was pure joy for her parents Sangeeta and Sunil Gulati. “She was our first child and we were in seventh heaven,” recalls Sangeeta. A bubbly baby, she was their little “Rose Princess”, a title she won at just nine months. At age one she was walking and even uttering a word or two.
 
But six months later their world shifted. Suddenly, Nikita became aloof. She stopped talking, avoided eye contact, went around in circles, and often hid behind curtains instead of playing with toys. Her confused parents did the hospital rounds, from Gangaram in Delhi to the Post Graduate Institute of Medical Education & Research (PGI), Chandigarh. At PGI they met neurologists and psychiatrists who concluded, after a few weeks of tests and observations, that Nikita was autistic.
 
“At first, we were in denial,” admits Sangeeta. “We couldn’t accept that something like this could happen to our beautiful, happy child.” The lack of awareness about autism at the time made their struggle harder. Despite knowing there was no cure “we tried everything, even Ayurveda”, Sangeeta confesses. They heard the myth about vaccinations and even chose not to vaccinate their son Bhavya.
 
For Bhavya, growing up was an emotional education. He used to think his parents ‘preferred’ Nikita over him. “As a child, I couldn’t understand why she was different or why my parents asked me to be considerate with her,” he recalls. But open conversations with them helped him understand her condition: she simply needed more care. When some of his friends mocked Nikita he would get hurt, but instead of fighting with them he explained her condition – only to those willing to listen. “Acceptance begins with understanding,” he says.
 
Their parents moved towards acceptance through workshops at Action for Autism in Delhi; meeting other families gave them strength. Nikita began pre-school in Chandigarh at two; it wasn’t a special school but the staff took good care of her. By four she had joined Prayaas School for Special Children, where she underwent daily sessions of speech and occupational therapy and a personal tutor helped her learn skills: self-care, social interaction, and motor control. With persistence, Nikita was able to bathe, dress, and eat on her own. She also learnt to write numbers from 1 to 100. A dedicated home tutor further helped her continue to do her exercises and learn to write her name and address.
 
The family’s life revolved around Nikita’s needs as a child. “I gave up movies and travel when she was small because I didn’t want to isolate her,” says her mother. “In noisy places she would start shouting and hitting herself.” Sangeeta, who works for the Ministry of Defence, is grateful for the support she had from her in-laws. She would drop Nikita to school and bring her back to the welcoming arms of her ‘dada’ and ‘dadi’. Sangeeta smiles as she says, “Even today she naps with her grandmother in the afternoon.”
 
The Gulatis have learned to rise above stigma: they ignore people who stare at Nikita in public. They plan market visits carefully, avoiding crowds, and they always prepare her for what lies ahead. With age, she has grown calmer, is able to attend family gatherings, shop at markets, and even enjoy three-hour-long movies. Nikita thrives on routine, which her family ensures is never broken. “She’s a foodie at heart,” says Bhavya with a laugh. “French fries and bread pakoras are her favourites.”
 
Nikita and Bhavya (25), who completed his engineering in computer science and is now working, share an unbreakable sibling bond. “We fight for the TV remote, share Maggi noodles, and play video games together,” he says. “She’s not my ‘responsibility’ but an important part of my life – I cannot imagine it without her. My parents and I work like a team and support each other. We consider her a good luck charm.”
 
Today, Nikita attends the Society for Rehabilitation of Mentally Challenged (SOREM) which equips her for independent living and gives her opportunities to enjoy beading, block printing, and jewellery making. Sangeeta, however, confides a lingering worry: “What happens to Nikita after us?” It is a familiar question for parents of children with intellectual disabilities. Yet she also holds hope for a supportive society that will allow families to help their children lead an independent life.
 
“People with autism have desires, likes and dislikes too like other people,” says Bhavya. “Families should teach empathy for autistic kids. Social acceptance is what will give them the right future. Nikita is not defined by autism but by her joy for life – her love of music, her laughter when playing video games, her sparkle while making jewellery, her delight in a slice of pizza.” And his wish for his sister is simple: “I hope she stays happy and smiling always.”