The Politics of Breathing: Reclaiming Decency, Rethinking Celebration

Every year, as the festival of lights draws near, the country divides itself between those who wish to celebrate unconditionally and those who plead for moderation. The argument, though wrapped in the language of culture, is no longer about the act of celebration itself — it is about control, identity, and resistance. Somewhere between the joy of lighting diyas and the haze that lingers the next morning, we have lost the art of conversation.

To question excess is now equated with questioning faith. To suggest reflection is interpreted as an act of defiance. And in that distortion, the very purpose of the festival, light over darkness, is buried under a thick, choking irony.

The truth, however, is more mathematical than moral. Firecrackers are not inherently evil; they are expressions of joy, sound, and light — as much a part of childhood nostalgia as sweets and gatherings. But when the same act is multiplied across millions, compressed into the dense lungs of modern cities, the arithmetic changes.

The air no longer behaves like it once did; the wind doesn’t move freely, nor does smoke disperse easily among skyscrapers and concrete grids. The same tradition, magnified through urban excess, begins to strain the very ecosystem it celebrates within. And it is this dissonance, between emotion and environment, devotion and decency, that demands an honest reckoning.

Culture, Tradition and the Tide of Change

Culture is not a fossil; it is an organism that breathes, adapts, and responds to time. To call something ‘traditional’ is not to seal it in amber but to recognise its journey through change. Firecrackers, lamps, processions — all these were born from moments in history where their scale matched the rhythm of life. Villages and small towns, once open to the sky, allowed celebrations to blend naturally with the elements. Today, the same acts take place within air-conditioned apartments, traffic-clogged roads, and cities where one person’s festival often becomes another’s insomnia.

Tradition must remember its context. When the population density, climate, and urban infrastructure change, so too must the expression of culture.

This is not dilution; this is evolution.

Our ancestors did not preserve rituals by repeating them blindly — they preserved them by adapting their intent to the realities around them. Lighting a lamp in every home does not lose its meaning when we choose to light fewer fireworks; it gains a new layer of relevance, a quiet acknowledgement that joy and responsibility can coexist.

Urban Density, Migration and the Changed Scale

India’s urban story is one of extraordinary compression. Tier-1 and Tier-2 cities now hold millions of people within spaces meant for thousands. Migration has accelerated growth, but it has also multiplied emissions, waste, and daily congestion. A celebration designed for open courtyards and scattered settlements now unfolds within high-rise apartments, narrow lanes, and traffic-laden neighbourhoods.

When lakhs of people simultaneously burst fireworks in these enclosed spaces, the impact is not simply additive — it is exponential.

The sound reverberates between buildings; the smoke becomes trapped within thermal inversions; the particulate matter lingers for days. What was once a momentary indulgence becomes an environmental shock.

Yet, moderation — the idea that we might scale celebration responsibly — is often dismissed as elitism or moral policing. But moderation is not erasure. It is arithmetic. It is empathy simplified into proportion.

The Pollution Math: Evidence and Data

Data reveals what sentiment refuses to acknowledge. On Diwali 2025, Delhi’s AQI crossed 450 in multiple zones — nine times the safe limit for PM2.5. In Nagpur, the Air Quality Index spiked by over 50%, trapped under winter’s inversion layer. Bhubaneswar, once spared from this crisis, saw its air shift overnight from “moderate” to “poor.”

Across India, studies have shown PM10 and PM2.5 levels rising five to six times during Diwali nights. Heavy metals like barium, strontium, and manganese — key ingredients in colourful fireworks — add to the toxicity that remains suspended for days.

Photo by Saakshi Yadav

Yet these are not arguments for prohibition. They are arguments for proportion. The problem lies not in firecrackers themselves, but in their scale, timing, and concentration. A few families lighting modest fireworks in open grounds do not cause cities to choke. It is the unregulated, dense, and simultaneous bursts across urban sprawls that turn festivity into environmental trauma. The challenge, therefore, is not to strip the festival of its vibrance, but to reimagine how that vibrance can breathe.

The Narrative Shift and Its Consequences

The most dangerous shift in this debate is not scientific but psychological. A discussion on moderation has been recast as a battle for identity. The rhetoric has replaced reflection. What was once a civic concern — clean air, safe celebration, collective well-being — is now narrated as an assault on belief. In this reframed world, those who seek moderation are branded as enemies of faith, while those who encourage excess are hailed as defenders of culture.

The result is performative resistance — people now burst more crackers, louder and longer, not out of joy but out of defiance.

This defiance corrodes the very spirit of the festival. The noise grows, but the meaning shrinks. Neighbours shut windows; elderly and children retreat indoors; stray animals tremble under cars. What should have been a night of shared warmth turns into an exercise in endurance. Celebration is not meant to prove power; it is meant to cultivate connection. The louder we make it, the less we listen.

Why the Debate Should Be Refocused on Shared Responsibility

Festivals endure when they balance the sacred with the sensible. The festival of lights was always about illumination — of homes, of minds, of relationships. Moderation does not extinguish this light; it refines it. A responsible celebration is not an attack on faith but an affirmation of it. Faith, after all, is not proven by excess but by awareness.

If millions of people live within the same square kilometre, the act of celebration must respect that density. A collective understanding — of time, place, and proportion — can transform how we experience the festival.

Photo by Jorge Mabuyog

Designated community fireworks zones, time windows, low-emission “green” crackers, and post-festival cleanups are not bureaucratic burdens but civic gestures. They help ensure that joy is distributed rather than suffocatingly concentrated.

Our ancestors revered the balance between man and nature — the same balance we now confuse with control. To celebrate with consciousness is to continue that legacy, not betray it.

The Damage to the Community Spirit

The day after the festival speaks volumes. The streets are coated with ash, the sky muted under a grey veil, the air heavy with residue. What should be a day of renewal feels like an aftermath. The problem is not the act of bursting crackers — it is the collective forgetfulness that follows. The joy fades, but the consequence lingers.

We have mistaken competition for celebration. The louder, brighter, and longer the fireworks, the more we believe we’ve proven something. But what we are proving is endurance, not devotion. True community spirit lies not in noise but in harmony. Lighting diyas together, cleaning neighbourhoods after the festival, organising shared fireworks shows in open fields — these are the modern expressions of an ancient sentiment: celebration that includes, not overwhelms.

From ParibhaAsha’s lens, culture and tradition are living systems — shaped by people, not bound by time. The essence of celebration lies in its ability to adapt with grace. True reverence today means finding balance, keeping the spirit of tradition alive while embracing moderation that protects both community and environment.

Towards a Better Balance: Moderation, Not Prohibition

The answer lies in moderation, not moralising. Firecrackers need not vanish; they need to evolve. Smaller bursts, limited durations, eco-friendly compositions, and better dispersion zones can preserve both joy and air. Schools and resident associations can promote awareness drives that celebrate heritage without harming it. Local governments can support community events that replace individual chaos with collective beauty — laser light shows, synchronised fireworks, or silent illumination parades.

The festival’s symbolism — light conquering darkness — was always about internal illumination. In rediscovering moderation, we return to that essence. The question is not how much we can burst, but how well we can celebrate without leaving others to breathe our aftermath.

Tradition was never meant to be static. It was meant to endure through evolution. The festival of lights can continue to dazzle without suffocating. Moderation, when embraced, does not shrink culture — it strengthens it. It allows joy to coexist with compassion, celebration with awareness. To reclaim decency in how we celebrate is not to betray our festivals but to preserve their soul.

The politics of breathing is not about banning fireworks or policing joy; it is about remembering that culture thrives when community does. Let the lamps burn brighter, the laughter return to streets, and the fireworks — fewer, but freer — illuminate skies that we can all still breathe under.

References

• Reuters, “Delhi air quality at ‘hazardous’ levels after Diwali fireworks,” 21 Oct 2025.

• Business Standard, “Firecracker effect: Air quality worsens across city,” 22 Oct 2025.

• Times of India, “Post-Diwali Smog Trap: Nagpur’s AQI spikes over 50% each year as winter inversion locks in pollution,” 21 Oct 2025.

• SpringerLink, Study on the Impact of Firecrackers on Atmospheric Pollutants during Diwali Festival in Tamil Nadu, India (2024).

• AirVoice Global, “Comprehensive report on the impact of Diwali firecrackers on air pollution,” 2024.

NOTE: Images used are for representational purposes only!