Shakeenaa Abdul Gafoor will go to bed tonight unable to shake off the thought of an unsettling possibility, one that she has experienced before — of waking up on Deepavali morning choking and gasping for breath.
S Gokilam, meanwhile, will sleep, knowing that there is a plan in place: to stay indoors. Every chore that might require her to step out has either been taken care of in advance or delegated to other members of the family. Her masks will be kept ready, waiting to be worn the moment she wakes up tomorrow.
Jayalakshmi Krishnan, too, has made her preparations. Tonight, she will ensure that her masks, inhaler, and medicines are all ready, because she anticipates having to use her inhaler at least three or four times on Deepavali.
Unlike these Chennaiites, many will spend the day looking forward to tomorrow. The excitement of bursting crackers and perhaps even the competitive spirit to win the neighbourhood competition over whose home will have the biggest pile of cracker waste can compel many.
But for those who struggle with asthma and other respiratory problems, the thought of Deepavali morning brings with it something different: not excitement, but anxiety of varying levels. Some report a small knot of unease. Some others report a truckload of dread. And for them all, the fear stems from a simple reason: not knowing when the trigger might occur.
Tara Murthy, a climate readership fellow from the city, who has had breathing trouble since she was young, explains, “The issue is that we never know when we will get triggered. For instance, if I am travelling on a two-wheeler and crossing a construction site emitting dust, sometimes even that will trigger my allergies. So, I normally always carry my medicines with me.”
Jayalakshmi and Shakeenaa too say that they always keep multiple inhalers ready — one in their car, another in their bag, and so on. Shakeenaa, however, admits to keeping her nebuliser handy. “I am asthmatic since birth and it is usually intense. Despite having my medicines, there seems to be no solution for this during festivals like Deepavali. My only way to control it is by doubling my medicinal dosage and then using a nebuliser too. This has mostly been my drill over the last few years,” the practising advocate shares.
This festive season carries an added burden of anxiety for Jayalakshmi, who is employed at a private company. Having recently returned from a brief stay in the US, where cleaner air had brought considerable relief to her asthma, which she was diagnosed with at the age of 17, she has since found her respiratory troubles worsening. She is now so sensitive that even pet hair — something she grew up around — triggers breathing difficulties. “In my neighbourhood (Nanganallur) where they celebrate with loads of fireworks, the road loses visibility. In 2023, I remember seeing just smoke everywhere and firework waste. A moving vehicle triggered a small fire that year,” says the 32-year-old, adding that the pollution that year bound her to her house for two to three days.
For senior citizens, the risks can be even greater. Gokilam, who is 65 years old and was hospitalised earlier this year after her oxygen levels dropped, says that while Deepavali does not frighten her, it does leave her somewhat on edge. Her only recourse is to remain confined indoors in her second-floor flat, hoping that her neighbours will be considerate enough to refrain from bursting crackers through the day and restrict the celebrations to the government-mandated hours. “At least that way the pollution will ease a little and I will feel more free,” she opines.
In an ideal world, these women say that they would like to see the practice of bursting crackers stopped altogether. That move, they believe, would ease breathing difficulties, spare animals distress, and contribute to a safer environment. But since that is far from reality, they, like thousands of others with respiratory issues, are forced to simply cope.
Coping, in this case, comes at the cost of restraint. And being forced to give up the freedom to step outdoors and celebrate without fear can, in its own way, feel like another form of suffocation. “I hope people realise our difficulty before lighting a cracker this weekend,” Shakeenaa concludes.