Beyong the Sparkle : Aftermath of Diwali

By Shaurya Singla Every year, Diwali arrives like a burst of colour and joy. The fragrance of sweets, the glow of diyas, and the laughter that fills every street, it feels as if the entire nation breathes celebration. It is the festival of victory, of light conquering darkness. But when the lights fade and the smoke settles, the morning after often tells a very different story.

This year as the sun rose on Diwali 2025, cities across India woke up under a thick grey haze. In Delhi, the Air Quality Index climbed beyond 400 in several localities, a level considered “severe,” where even breathing feels heavy. The sky that had sparkled with fireworks just hours before now hung still, muted by layers of smoke. Hospitals reported a noticeable surge in patients complaining of coughing, irritation, and shortness of breath. For children and the elderly, the festival’s afterglow became a battle for clean air.

Kolkata, despite its efforts to use so-called “green crackers,” recorded AQI levels touching 430, proving how deeply the festive smoke lingers in our atmosphere. In contrast, Bengaluru’s clear post-Diwali morning, with an AQI under 40, reminded us that a celebration can still be vibrant without being suffocating. The difference wasn’t in devotion but in awareness.

The pollution isn’t just about the air we breathe. Noise levels during Diwali nights often cross safe decibel limits, disturbing infants, elders, and animals alike. Street dogs cower in corners, birds lose their way, and even pets spend the night hiding under beds  trembling through a festival they don’t understand. For many what begins as joy turns into a night of anxiety.

Then comes the morning after streets carpeted with bits of burnt firecrackers, plastic wrappers, and glittering paper waste. Sanitation workers step out at dawn, sweeping away the remnants of a single night’s celebration. Some even report clogged drains and burnt patches on the road from leftover fireworks. The air, heavy with toxins like sulphur dioxide and nitrogen oxides, lingers long after the festivities end.

Behind the statistics are human stories, a young boy with asthma gasping after a night of excitement, a nurse working overtime in a hospital filled with coughing patients, a sanitation worker clearing mounds of cracker debris, and an elderly woman lighting her diya quietly by the window, praying for cleaner skies next year.

Yet, amidst all this, hope flickers like a diya in the wind. More people are realizing that celebration does not have to come at the cost of health. Schools and housing societies are promoting cracker-free Diwali. Families are choosing diyas over fireworks, and communities are hosting music nights and sky lantern events instead of loud explosions. Even the introduction of green crackers and stricter regulations show that change, though slow, is possible when awareness spreads. The essence of Diwali has always been purity, a cleansing of darkness, ignorance, and negativity. It’s ironic that in celebrating light, we often fill our skies with smoke. This festival was meant to illuminate, not to suffocate.

As diyas glow across balconies and courtyards, let us remember that true light shines brightest when the air is clear. This year, let’s celebrate Diwali not just with lamps, but with consciousness  for the children who deserve to breathe freely, for the workers who clean after us, and for the planet that holds us all.

Let the light of Diwali not fade behind a veil of smoke.

Let it shine, pure, clean, and lasting.