WAS it Diwali last Thursday? You could have fooled me. A classical October afternoon, silken sun, blossoming trees, not a sound on the horizon. In the evening, lights on balconies, and yes, a few hours of pataka fire, but swiftly, silence again. Thanks to a high court order, campaigns by the National Foundation of India (NFI), the Central Pollution Control Board (CPCB) and the raised collective conscience of several hundred schoolchildren, the pataka is, at last, politically incorrect.
But here's the Diwali dilemma: do we have the democratic right to burst a festive bomb? If culture is how the people define it, then must the State legislate on how people should celebrate? This year, sales of crackers dropped sharply—though there were still 90 requests in 24 hours, in Delhi alone, for help from the fire services. But several parents pointed out that fireworks are being made the fall guy, that pollution and child labour must be tackled more seriously, not by interfering with the fun of children.
Yet Diwali has never been so serene. In West Bengal, the government arrested 200 devout pyromaniacs for violating the high court order on bursting 'bombs'. In Chennai, sales of firecrackers dropped by half and in Delhi, shopkeepers offered discounts to attract those newly enlightened on the hazards of depleting ozone and on the child labour-intensive cracker industry. "Sales of sweets and diyas were very good, but very few people bought crackers," said Mohan Sharan, stall-keeper in Delhi's intelligentsia-infested Khan market.
Quite a change from last year! Remember fighting through swirls of bilious toxic fumes or trying to sleep amidst the heavy artillery of the pataka war? This year, says D.K. Mahendroo of the CPCB, Diwali has returned, at least in some measure, to being a traditional (and quiet) celebration of a plentiful harvest. The CPCB targeted about 200 schools across Delhi to inform students about the unholy effects of festive smoke. "With the rise of diseases like asthma, Diwali had become a time of torture for several people", Mahendroo says. The Delhi High Court passed an order allowing firecrackers only between 6 and 11 pm. In addition the NFI-held street plays in several schools about the poverty-stricken little hands of Sivakasi which craft the sparklers for children whose lives are very different from their own.
Says Pia Ray of Sardar Patel Vidyalaya: "Several students felt quite strongly about the child labour. Not many people were really into buying crackers." In Delhi Public School, R.K. Puram, about half the children in the junior school took a pledge not to burst crackers. "Their response was terrific and heartwarming," says principal Shyama Chona. "For the first time, children simply did not want fireworks."
But isn't the idea not just to eradicate child labour but to eradicate poverty first, of which child labour is only a continuing symptom? Some say we have the right to celebrate as we want to. "Why should there be a restriction on what parents want to buy for their children?" demands Anshuman Sinha, whose son studies in Delhi's Modern School. "Sometimes patakas are just harmless fun. What about all the polluting industries, trucks? Why just ban patakas?" But, Arun Kapoor, vice-principal of Modern School, Barakhamba Road, New Delhi, says that there was no compulsion in the messages that the school gave the children. "We wanted to motivate children to look at things in a different way. "
Yet, banning crackers will not solve the problem of child labour, says economist Manoj Pant. "This issue is always wrongly analysed, specially by the Left," Pant says. "If you reduce the sales of the Sivakasi industries, you then have to think of alternative employment. The real question is to tackle poverty. Poverty produces child labour, never mind how many crackers you ban. The question is not of child labour but of pollution." The State, he says, must make the effort to make sure that the crackers are produced in less dangerous conditions for the employed children. Also, fireworks should be burst in local community centres and their use should be controlled. "No country in the world bans firecrackers," Pant states.
"This is nothing but fascism!" says Amar Mehndiratta whose daughters study in Delhi Public School. "Is this a police state? Why should these schools prevent children from having a bit of fun? OK. They should tell them about pollution and child labour, but this kind of indoctrination is bad. Next, the children will probably be asked not to play Holi or celebrate their birthdays!" We are trying, counters Vibha Parthasarathy, principal of Sardar Patel Vidyalaya, to give children a life choice. "In the name of tradition we seem to be justifying violence, greed and ostentation."
In any case, says sociologist Veena Das, individual freedom to burst a cracker must be balanced by the need to maintain the common good on pollution. Also, Das says, this was a popular movement among children to restrict what they believed was terrible for a number of people. According to Mahendroo, the response from the children was overwhelming and several parents he met were very happy that they would not have to spend as much as they have done in the past on crackers. "Diwali is expensive, it's noisy, it's driven by child labour, I'm so glad there's protest against it," says Chitra Sen, whose daughter is a student in Modern School. Sen says she and other parents actively encouraged her daughter not to buy crackers.
So exit the pataka and enter the diya. "This year, people seemed very keen to buy different types of diyas," says a stall-keeper at Lajpat Nagar market. "I predict that there will be a great range of diyas next year." At last—hallelujah—the New Age Diwali: pretty, motivated by a 'cause', and above all, smoke-free.
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