A quiet Diwali wish
Despite judiciary and state intervention, is there enough awareness amongst ordinary citizens how their occasional chance of public enjoyment and assertion is harmful to others is another thing? A sensitive subject explored.
Sanjay Nagral
Nov 13, 2020, Mumbai Mirror
We would all plan and set the alarm for the unearthly hour of 4.30 am. I remember checking the clock repeatedly, worried that it may not ring and that I may be left out of the action. We wanted to be the first ones in our colony. We would quickly pick up the crackers, gather on the colony road, and with a sense of achievement set off a volley of loud bombs. Lights would come on, signalling that we had succeeded in waking up people. Diwali had begun.
Over the next few days, the smell of firecrackers hung in the air. Phuljhadi, anar and ‘snake’, a black tablet which would balloon out when lit, were meant for the weak-hearted. It was bombs and rockets for the bolder ones. All these would spew smoke for a week as we cavorted around in our best dress and devoured special snacks. Those who have grown up in this classic Indian communitarian manner, appreciate the heady feeling.
A jeweller family in the building was very popular because every Diwali they would buy a huge consignment of crackers, including the ‘latest’ from someplace in Kalbadevi and distribute among all of us. The family’s claim to fame was a humongous extended chain of cracker bombs which would be laid on the road, and would go off on the Laxmi Pujan night for a relentless hour. I think I was around twelve years old when they brought a new type of ‘rocket’ that had a spectacular take off into the sky. One night, as we were lighting these missiles with great aplomb, one took a path into a house on the third floor where an elderly couple lived and set the curtain on fire. The fire brigade was called, but luckily no one was hurt. This started a huge debate in the building. I remember the couple’s son who lived in the US calling up everyone’s parents and giving them an earful. I distinctly recall something he said: “Public use of fireworks is not allowed in many countries. In the US you would be in jail”. We all discussed what a boring country it must be.
Festivals are intrinsic to all cultures and religions. They are supposed to be celebrations of god, faith and kinship. But they are also a diversion from the drudgery and oppression of daily life with their fun, light and colours. Like all else, they have, however, morphed with time into a public spectacle, a statement of power and money. They are also an industry. What easier and quicker way to announce anything to the world than through the medium of noise?
Crackers have carbon rich gunpowder. Sparklers contain chemicals like sulphur, lead and nitrates of potassium, sodium, strontium, copper and barium. They release toxic gases like carbon monoxide and sulphur dioxide. Some of these are carcinogenic. In India, 40 per cent exacerbation of bronchial asthma and bronchitis has been reported during Diwali. Around 50 lakh people also suffer from noiseinduced hearing loss as a result of firecrackers. Disorders like loss of hearing, loss of appetite, irritability, hypertension and mental health issues like phobias, loss of concentration, insomnia and aggressive behaviour worsen with constant exposure to high noise levels.
Attempts to highlight such issues have been seen as hurting religious sentiments. Environmental concerns are perceived as some kind of elite project. Privileged school students trying to imitate Greta Thunberg. On the other hand, bursting a few harmless crackers, playing with simple colours during Holi and music for Dandiya and Ganpati are thought of as just harmless enjoyment for a few nights. Sumaira Abdulali, the activist who has spent a lifetime fighting noise pollution, has been publicly assaulted by crowds. A state which could not hurt its larger constituency has played footsie. It’s only courts that have intervened.
Covid has facilitated the emergence of a serious public health narrative in India that has partly overcome identity barriers. It has partly driven home the point that our collective future depends on our public behaviour. The unprecedented curbing of festival celebrations publicly in Mumbai, despite the multi-crore industry entangled with local politics, and the Delhi government’s decision to ban firecrackers has been enabled by the spectre of Covid. Perhaps because Covid kills suddenly. It could also be that Covid is seen as a foreign virus which we need to collectively repel: our national duty where we need to fall in line.
Whether this resolve is converted to a long term will to control health hazards caused by our rituals and festivals remains to be seen. A determined judiciary and state can intervene but ordinary citizens appreciating the fact that their occasional chance of public enjoyment and assertion is harmful to others is another thing. This year in my colony, we haven’t heard a single firecracker till today. A happy Diwali for everyone.