Heramba Nath
(herambanath2222@gmail.com)
Diwali, the festival of lights, is not merely an annual celebration in India—it is an emotion, a symbol of hope and renewal that transcends religions, languages, and borders. For centuries, this festival has reminded humanity of the eternal truth that light always triumphs over darkness, knowledge over ignorance, and goodness over evil. Diwali is a time of coming together—when hearts unite in happiness, when homes glow with the warmth of diyas, and when families share love, laughter, and blessings. Yet, over the past few decades, the true meaning of this sacred festival has slowly dimmed under the shadow of noise, pollution, and extravagance.
What was once a serene celebration of divine light has, in many places, turned into an exhibition of fireworks, toxic smoke, and unbearable sound. The purpose of Diwali has never been to frighten the skies or choke the air. Its purpose has always been to illuminate our souls. It is time, therefore, to return to the essence of Diwali—a Green Diwali—one that rekindles the purity of tradition and harmony with nature.
A Green Diwali is a conscious step towards celebrating life without harming life. It means saying no to firecrackers, no to noise, no to poisonous fumes, and yes to compassion, sustainability, and inner peace. It means cherishing the lamp, not the explosion. In essence, it is about celebrating Diwali the way it was meant to be—quietly, gracefully, and meaningfully.
The bursting of firecrackers may last only a few moments, but its consequences linger long after the celebrations are over. Every year, firecrackers release tonnes of toxic gases into the atmosphere—carbon dioxide, sulphur dioxide, and nitrogen oxides, among others. These pollutants combine with fog and moisture to form dense layers of smog, suffocating cities and towns for days. Hospitals record a rise in respiratory illnesses—especially asthma, bronchitis, and other lung-related ailments—during and after the festival. Children, whose lungs are still developing, are particularly vulnerable to these harmful pollutants.
The elderly, too, suffer immensely. Many of them struggle to breathe in the polluted air, while those with heart diseases are exposed to serious health risks. Medical experts have repeatedly warned that the combined effect of air and noise pollution during Diwali can trigger heart attacks in people with cardiac vulnerabilities. The sounds of celebration should never become the sounds of distress.
Noise pollution is perhaps the most ignored form of cruelty we commit in the name of celebration. Firecrackers often produce noise levels that far exceed the permissible limits, piercing through the silence of the night and disturbing not only humans but all forms of life. For newborn babies, whose hearing organs are delicate, the sharp blasts can cause severe discomfort or even long-term damage. Parents find themselves trying to shield their infants from the frightening noise, often holding them close with tears of helplessness. A festival that should fill hearts with calm joy ends up creating anxiety and pain for the most innocent among us.
Similarly, heart patients live in constant fear during Diwali nights. The sudden, unexpected explosions can cause elevated blood pressure, palpitations, and sometimes fatal cardiac arrest. The heart should feel the rhythm of peace, not the shock of sound. Diwali was never meant to be a night of terror—it was meant to be a night of tranquillity and togetherness.
Beyond human suffering, Diwali’s environmental cost is immense. The loud noises and blinding lights disturb the fragile balance of nature. Birds lose their sense of direction, flying aimlessly through smoke-filled skies, often crashing into buildings or trees. Many die from shock or disorientation. Pets, too, suffer in silence. Dogs and cats hide under furniture, trembling with fear, refusing food or water for hours. The world of animals and birds—innocent, voiceless, and trusting—pays the price for human celebration.
The pollution caused by firecrackers also poisons the soil and water. The chemicals used in crackers—barium, lead, cadmium, and others—settle on the ground, seep into the soil, and eventually contaminate the food we eat and the water we drink. The aftermath of one night’s indulgence can linger in the environment for months. Every spark that lights up the sky leaves behind traces of harm that we seldom notice.
Yet, Diwali need not be destructive. It can be beautiful and peaceful without a single spark of fireworks. Lighting clay lamps, made by local artisans, is not only eco-friendly but also supports rural livelihoods. The gentle glow of an earthen diya carries warmth that no electric bulb or cracker can replace. It spreads light without harm and fills homes with serenity rather than smoke. The act of lighting a diya is symbolic—it is an offering of gratitude to nature, to the divine, and to the people around us.
A Green Diwali also invites us to decorate our surroundings with flowers, banana leaves, and rangolis made of natural colours instead of plastic or chemical-based materials. Such decorations celebrate the bounty of the earth rather than its exploitation. Children can be involved in making handmade paper lanterns, helping them understand the joy of creativity over consumption. Instead of spending money on fireworks, families can donate to the needy, feed stray animals, or plant trees. Imagine if every household in India planted just one sapling this Diwali—the result would be millions of new trees breathing life into our environment. Each sapling would be a lamp of its own kind, glowing in green.
The essence of Diwali lies in light, not in noise. It is about illuminating hearts, not darkening skies. The sound of laughter, the fragrance of sweets, and the shared spirit of compassion are the real fireworks that brighten our lives. Festivals were never meant to compete in grandeur; they were meant to connect us—to each other, to the divine, and to nature.
By choosing a Green Diwali, we are not giving up joy; we are redefining it. We are making it purer, gentler, and more lasting. The happiness that comes from a peaceful Diwali stays longer in the heart than the fleeting thrill of bursting crackers. When the air remains clean, when the birds continue to sing, and when children sleep peacefully at night, that is when Diwali becomes truly divine.
Climate scientists have warned that India’s pollution levels rise drastically during Diwali, particularly in metropolitan areas. Air quality indices shoot up to “severe” levels, affecting even those who are otherwise healthy. The problem has become so chronic that governments and courts have had to intervene, imposing restrictions on the sale and use of firecrackers. Yet, laws alone cannot bring change; awareness and empathy can. The solution lies not in enforcement but in enlightenment. Each citizen must feel a sense of duty towards the environment and the community.
A Green Diwali also reminds us of the larger truth that the environment and human health are inseparable. We cannot breathe easy if the air is poisoned, and we cannot live peacefully if nature is disturbed. The festival of light must therefore become the festival of awareness—one that teaches harmony, not havoc. Lighting a lamp symbolises the triumph of the soul over ignorance; it should also symbolise the triumph of wisdom over waste. In the Indian tradition, light has always represented knowledge. The Vedas describe light as divine consciousness, the very essence of life. The lighting of lamps during Diwali was never meant to be an act of noise or indulgence but an act of awakening—the awakening of the human spirit towards truth and compassion. The true celebration lies in inner illumination.
In our rush to modernise festivals, we have mistaken brightness for brilliance and noise for celebration. However, the heart finds peace not in the loud but in the quiet. The flickering flame of a diya carries a spiritual message—it dances softly, moves gently, but never ceases to shine. Its humility is its strength. It burns not to destroy, but to enlighten. That is the spirit of Diwali we must return to.
We live in a time when the planet is under immense strain. Rising global temperatures, erratic monsoons, melting glaciers, and vanishing forests are clear warnings that the Earth is losing its balance. Festivals, which once celebrated the rhythms of nature, must now become instruments to restore that balance. Every Green Diwali is a step towards healing the earth—a reminder that joy need not come at the cost of survival.
Our children deserve to inherit a planet where they can breathe clean air and see clear skies. They deserve to know a Diwali that shines with compassion, not combustion. The responsibility rests upon us—the adults, the aware, the decision-makers—to ensure that. Festivals must evolve with time, and Green Diwali is that evolution—a bridge between ancient wisdom and modern necessity.
There are countless ways to celebrate responsibly. Communities can organise collective lamp-lighting events instead of fireworks shows. Schools can conduct awareness programmes and encourage students to pledge for eco-friendly celebrations. Social media campaigns can spread the message faster than firecrackers can light the sky. Temples and organizations can lead by example by using only traditional oil lamps and avoiding artificial decorations. Each small act becomes a ripple in the ocean of change.
The concept of ahimsa—non-violence—is central to Indian philosophy. Green Diwali is nothing but the practice of ahimsa in modern life: non-violence towards the air we breathe, the animals that share our earth, the children who deserve silence, and the elders who need peace. It is the application of ancient wisdom in today’s context. When we celebrate with restraint and respect, we do not diminish the festival; we elevate it.
One can still make Diwali vibrant without firecrackers. Music, dance, art, and togetherness can fill the night with colour and sound in their own harmonious way. Families can spend time reflecting on the values of the festival—truth, humility, and gratitude. Lighting diyas in every corner of the house, praying for peace and health for all, and sharing sweets with neighbours—these gestures bring joy that is deep and enduring.
A quiet Diwali is also a moment for reflection. In the silence that follows the lighting of a lamp, one can almost hear the voice of the earth breathing easier, the chirp of a bird returning to its nest, and the heartbeat of a newborn resting peacefully. That silence is the real celebration—the sound of harmony restored.
When homes glow with earthen lamps instead of explosives, when the air smells of flowers instead of gunpowder, when children draw rangolis instead of lighting bombs, and when families share stories instead of covering their ears—then Diwali becomes what it was meant to be: a festival of love, not of fear. A Green Diwali is not a restriction; it is liberation—from pollution, from extravagance, and from thoughtless consumption. It reminds us that festivals are not about how much we spend but how much we share. It brings humanity back into celebration.
This Diwali, may we all light the lamp of awareness. Let our diyas symbolise not just prosperity but purity. Let our celebrations echo not with noise but with kindness. Let our skies remain clear, our air remain fresh, and our hearts remain light.
Let us save the green, save the newborn from the trauma of sound, save the birds that grace our skies, save the elderly from heart strain, and save the air that sustains all life. The spirit of Diwali should illuminate the world with compassion, not pollute it with poison. True happiness glows quietly—it needs no explosion to announce itself. The greatest light is not the one that blinds the eyes but the one that brightens the soul.
Celebrate a Green Diwali—for the earth, for the children, for the birds, for the heart, and for the sacred bond between humankind and nature.