4 min readNov 3, 2026 03:22 PM IST First published on: Nov 3, 2026 at 03:22 PM IST“What to do about Diwali?” my cousin, who had a son six months ago, texted me. She was considering travelling to either Bhubaneswar or Chennai, where she has relatives, if things got “really bad” in Delhi. It was late September, and our AQI anxieties had already begun. Both of us are new mothers with premature babies who had spent their first month after birth in the NICU. With air pollution among the recognised risk factors for premature birth, our new-mother guilt and paranoia had already set in. We were ordering new gadgets, researching air filtration systems and planning possible escapes from the city.Though the air definitely turns hazardous post Diwali, Delhi’s pollution crisis is no longer confined to a few winter months. Air quality fluctuates throughout the year, giving us occasional days of relief before returning to hazardous levels. Living here now means constantly checking weather applications, monitoring AQI readings and calculating whether it is safe to step outdoors. Even an ordinary outing requires preparation: Have I packed a mask? Are the eye drops in the bag? Should we cancel the walk altogether? What was that one home remedy we saw on YouTube, maybe that will fix my chest congestion?AdvertisementAlso Read | For Delhi’s air pollution problem, stop blaming Punjab’s farmersBeyond respiratory illnesses and other serious health consequences, living with toxic air creates an exhausting form of anticipatory anxiety. It is the constant mental work of preparing for exposure, assessing risks and wondering whether you have forgotten something that could protect your family. The toll is worse for those with at-risk groups under their care — children, the elderly, pregnant women, patients with existing conditions, and even pets. We have three air purifiers, an AQI monitor and a growing collection of products discovered through endless Google searches. One such search led my husband to a window shield that claims to reduce the entry of PM2.5 particles. Our eyes are constantly on the monitor, trying to keep both PM2.5 and CO2 levels within recommended limits, playing an endless game of opening and shutting windows depending on which number needs our attention more. The financial burden of clean air is immense. For a salaried household already juggling everyday expenses and EMIs, this is yet another unplanned cost towards something that should have been a public good and a fundamental right.Surprisingly, despite almost a decade of this crisis, there are still many who dismiss pollution as “just smog”. My parents and their friends insist on going for morning walks, claiming “morning air is fresh”. I have been showing them studies that prove that pollution is worse in morning hours, but old beliefs are hard to change. There is also an unspoken expectation that one should carry on as usual. Raising concerns about air quality can quickly earn you the label of being paranoid, overly cautious or dramatic. You are expected to manage this public health crisis privately, both financially and emotionally, not make it everyone else’s problem. The mental load, then, is not just about anticipating exposure; it is also about constantly negotiating the legitimacy of your fear.Perhaps the most insidious consequence of Delhi’s pollution is that we are not just learning to live with toxic air, we are learning to organise our entire lives around the possibility of breathing it.AdvertisementThe writer is assistant professor, Jindal School of Design and Architecture, OP Jindal Global University