The meanings and means of Diwali in towns and cities have changed in recent times. With urban areas already struggling with air, water, and soil pollution, it is important that society and the system together find ways to celebrate a cleaner Diwali—and other festivals—in a more responsible manner. More importantly, both must first ask what we are celebrating before finding how to celebrate festivals and events.
While the Supreme Court of India’s last-minute relaxation (on October 15, just a week before Diwali) of its blanket ban on firecrackers—allowing them between 6–7 a.m. and 8–10 p.m. on two days—may have brought some joy and commerce to Delhi, it also added more pollution to the already most polluted city in the world. The apex court directed that Delhi residents could use “green crackers” to celebrate Diwali, stating that it was a “balanced approach, taking into account conflicting interests and permitting in moderation, without compromising environmental concerns.”
But what exactly are green crackers? In that short time, which industries produced or prepared them? Who are these manufacturers claiming that green crackers emit 20–30% fewer pollutants and generate minimal ash compared to traditional ones?
Traditional firecrackers are a major source of particulate matter (PM 2.5), sulfur dioxide, and other harmful emissions. The industry has long been largely unregulated. Although there are strict regulations today, certified green crackers are a relatively new concept in the market.
Did shopkeepers offer both green and non-green options? How did residents distinguish or choose between them? What checks and balances were applied to monitor their use? Delhi witnessed crackers bursting well past midnight, so enforcement was questionable. Why, moreover, was this decision limited to Delhi and not extended across India? Aren’t citizens in other polluted cities equally entitled to protection of their environment and health?
Did the apex court genuinely consider the environmental and health concerns? Former NITI Aayog CEO Amitabh Kant remarked that the Supreme Court was prioritizing “the right to burst crackers over the right to live and breathe in Delhi, whose air quality already lies in shambles; only ruthless and sustained execution of pollution control can save Delhiites from health and environmental catastrophe.”
This last-minute declaration of a “Green Diwali” was nothing but greenwashing—and more so brainwashing. It is unfortunate that the apex court appeared insensitive and insensible to both environmental and health issues. No wonder governments and corporations then feel free to compromise environmental and public well-being. It was even reported that MCD trucks were sprinkling water at air-quality monitoring points to manipulate readings. Yet, after Diwali, the Air Quality Index (AQI) in Delhi remained far above the permissible limits set by the World Health Organization.
Why is air pollution the only issue considered by the court? What about water and soil pollution caused by these celebrations? Streets are littered with firecracker debris and plastic waste in a country that has barely one municipal cleaner per million citizens. Unmanaged waste ends up in water bodies—along with puja materials ritualistically dumped by some communities—further choking already polluted rivers, lakes, and wetlands.
Since individuals make institutions, there is a deeper need to question the relevance of these age-old festivities in contemporary times. We are trapped in a vicious cycle: air pollution is soil pollution is water pollution is health pollution is mind pollution—and back again. The Supreme Court’s decision reflects this mind pollution, continuing old traditions without sensitive or sensible thought toward setting new, relevant meanings and practices for future generations. The deeper question remains: Why and what do we celebrate on Diwali—and how should we celebrate it? Can it be green, clean, safe, and inclusive in these times of rising environmental and social crises? We urgently need to reflect on the purpose and means of our year-round festivities.
Farmers’ Diwali
Diwali was originally a festival of the farming community. Farmers celebrated it to mark the harvest of kharif crops, expressing gratitude for their yield by lighting lamps symbolizing purification and prosperity. The Goddess Lakshmi represented abundance, and lamps were also meant to protect harvested grains and seeds from insects. The worship rituals invoked peace within the community and prosperity for the crops. For farmers, the harvest symbolized economic security, and Diwali was their festival of abundance—also serving as a transition period to rest before the rabi season.
The Economic Connection
Culturally, Lakshmi—in both metaphorical and physical sense—represents wealth. The belief that worshipping the goddess brings prosperity, though not supported by evidence, became deeply ritualized as Shubh-Labh (prosperity and profit). The goddess offering wealth became a literal manifestation of that belief. Alongside, Lord Ganesha, the god of wisdom and good fortune, is worshipped to bless new ventures.
The Religious Connection
In northern India, Diwali marks Lord Rama’s return to Ayodhya with Sita and Lakshman after 14 years of exile and his victory over Ravana. In southern India, it commemorates Lord Krishna’s triumph over the demon Narakasura. Jains celebrate it as the day of Lord Mahavira’s enlightenment, Sikhs as Bandi Chhor Diwas—marking Guru Hargobind’s release from Mughal imprisonment—and some Buddhists (in Nepal) as the day Emperor Ashoka embraced Buddhism.
While Diwali is celebrated as the triumph of good over evil and light over darkness, the essence seems lost. How can a religiously inclined, god-fearing society indulge in the widespread adulteration of food, sweets, and dairy products during this very season? Such acts are criminal and reveal that many neither fear gods nor care for the community. For them, Lakshmi signifies wealth alone.
The belief in light over darkness, too, has been taken far too literally. Buildings overflow with diyas, candles, and decorative lights. Even local governments excessively illuminate public buildings and streets, creating light pollution—an issue yet to receive attention. Just as humans need rest, cities too need darkness to sleep.
Our Diwali
Growing up, Diwali meant cleaning homes, buying gifts, preparing special sweets and snacks, decorating with rangolis, lighting lamps, and playing with firecrackers. Most importantly, it meant reaching out to family and friends in a spirit of sharing and care. I fondly remember celebrating with our Muslim neighbours, the Qureshi family, whose children studied with us. Diwali thus transcended religion—it was about community bonding in good and bad times.
Later, as an adult, I noticed Diwali’s gendered dimension: women worked tirelessly to host guests while men enjoyed socializing. That era also saw a touch of materialism—epitomized by the famous Onida TV slogan: “Neighbor’s envy, owner’s pride.”
As awareness about environmental issues grew, I consciously distanced myself from firecrackers and excessive lighting. Over time, urban Diwali turned into a noisy, polluting spectacle—devoid of genuine community spirit—fueling divisive, hyper-religious, and nationalist narratives. This distortion made me question what it means to be Hindu. Is it about being louder and intimidating, or being peaceful, tolerant, and inclusive? My reflections continue to evolve as I try to find ways to celebrate without polluting air, water, soil—or minds.
Finding New Meanings in New Times
Rarely do urban communities ask why we celebrate Diwali before deciding how to do it. Today, the festival is often projected as an assertion of religious or nationalist identity. Once a festival of light, food, and togetherness, it has become a license for air, noise, and environmental pollution. My generation performed half-understood rituals, but today’s generation seems even more disconnected—celebrating amid worsening pollution and anxiety. Watching children light crackers in toxic air feels hollow and delusional.
If, as a society, we choose to pollute our air, water, and soil in the name of religion, culture, or nationalism, we forfeit the right to demand clean resources. What is there to rejoice in choking ourselves? This extravagant display of “celebration” is a costly self-inflicted wound—a pollution of both environment and mind. Sadly, but reality is today we have drifted/shifted to more recreational values than the ritualistic values of yesterday of the festivals and ceremonies. Shockingly, but not surprisingly, the Supreme Court’s decision is to allow continuing the cycle of destruction.
Way Forward
With nearly half of India’s population now urban and disconnected from farming, we must rediscover new meanings and methods of celebration. Urban communities must ask why they celebrate to decide how to do so. This is neither pessimistic nor anti-national.
There are real examples of “green” Diwali across the country—not by court orders but by community will. For instance, for the past fifty years, the villagers of Kollukudipatti in Shivagangai district, Tamil Nadu, have celebrated a silent Diwali to protect the birds of the Vettangudi wetlands—home to a vibrant ecosystem of interlinked water bodies like Periyakollukudi Patti, Chinnakollukudi Patti, and Vettangudi Patti tanks.
We too can transform our festivals with collective conscience, communication, and action. Let Diwali be a time to meet our neighbours, exchange sweets, clean our surroundings, and celebrate peace with ecology. The day we start keeping our outdoors clean and green will be the day we truly honour the spirit of Diwali and the planet we inhabit.
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Dr. Mansee Bal Bhargava is an entrepreneur, researcher, educator, speaker, and mentor. She has recently joined the Carl von Ossietzky University of Oldenburg, Institute for Chemistry and Biology of the Sea (ICBM), Wilhelmshaven as Senior Scientist to lead the Trilateral Research Project WADCouple. More about her work: www.mansee.in, www.edc.org.in, www.wforw.in, www.woder.org
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