Narkasur burning, which symbolises the victory of good over evil, has been celebrated with great pomp and revelry across the State. Giant Narkasurs in various forms have taken their positions in inner spaces of towns and villages, many in the completion stage. However, the preparations have been overshadowed by growing public health concerns and a rather sudden crackdown. Following warnings from medical experts, the State Department of Environment and Climate Change has moved to prohibit the use of single-use plastics, cling film, rubber and thermocol in Narkasur effigies under Section 5 of the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986.
The health concerns behind this move are entirely genuine. What is difficult to justify, however, is the timing and manner of its implementation. The directive came at the eleventh hour, leaving groups confused without any options.
Doctors have repeatedly cautioned that burning plastic in the open releases highly toxic substances, including dioxins. Exposure to these emissions can cause respiratory distress, aggravate asthma and pose serious long-term health risks, particularly to children who gather around the burning effigies. These warnings deserve to be taken seriously. But they also raise an obvious question: why has the government chosen to act only days before the celebrations, when the health risks associated with burning plastic have been known for years?
By October’s end, local mandals and youth groups have already invested weeks of effort and thousands of rupees in building these enormous structures. Plastic sheets and cling film are commonly used beneath layers of paper, straw and paint to make the frames lightweight and rain-resistant. Issuing sweeping prohibitions at this stage, while asking BDOs to submit compliance reports, shows a disconnect between decision-makers and the realities on the ground.
For many organisers, the directive has come far too late to be practically implemented. Much of the plastic used in these effigies is hidden beneath several layers of surface decoration. How are authorities expected to establish whether a structure complies with the new rules without physically inspecting it or stripping away its outer layers? There is no clarity on who will conduct these inspections, how they will be carried out or whether officials have been given enough time and resources to do so.
There is also a larger question of consistency. If the government’s primary concern is public health and air quality, why does the same urgency not extend to fireworks? The widespread bursting of fireworks releases heavy metals, sulphur dioxide and fine particulate matter, adding considerably to air pollution and exposing people to harmful emissions long after celebrations. Singling out local effigy makers while allowing the enormous firecracker trade to continue largely unchecked sends a contradictory message.
Also, why is enforcement failing on single-use plastic? Despite statutory prohibitions on several single-use plastic products and thermocol under state and central environmental regulations, non-biodegradable packaging continues to find its way into local markets, tourist hotspots and coastal areas. The problem is not a lack of laws; it’s the lack of enforcement.
Protecting public health and preventing toxic emissions is a necessary priority, but that cannot be achieved overnight, or with last-minute directives. If the goal is to genuinely make Narkasur celebrations safer, directives should have been issued much in advance, along with guidelines on alternatives and other sustainable materials. The underlying environmental challenges will not disappear through occasional crackdowns. The latest Narkasur directive risks becoming little more than another paper tiger, doing almost nothing to address the larger problem.
