Surviving Delhis poor AQI: How to deal with severe pollution in the city

New Delhi: Every winter, as soon as the festive lights dim and temperatures dip, Delhi undergoes its annual transformation into what residents grimly call a "gas chamber.” The mornings turn silver-grey, not with winter mist, but with smoke thick enough to taste. Step outside early and you’ll find faces hidden behind masks, not out of habit from the pandemic, but because breathing in the open feels like inhaling sandpaper.

If you’ve lived in Delhi long enough, you recognise this season not just by the chill in the air, but by the sting in your nose and the tightness in your chest. November has become the month when weather apps are consulted not for rainfall or temperatures, but for air-quality readings. And this year’s numbers have once again managed to shock even the most seasoned residents. In mid-November, the pollution index all but maxed out, hovering in the high-400s — a reading so high that calling it "severe” feels like an understatement. The fine particles floating around — the infamous PM2.5 — climbed to levels so extreme that international health bodies would classify the air as outright hazardous.

Why does this keep happening? The reasons are familiar, yet no less frustrating.

There’s the never-ending parade of vehicles. Delhi’s roads carry more cars and two-wheelers than some entire countries. Then there’s the annual smoke drift from Punjab and Haryana, where crop residue is torched as fields are cleared for the next crop cycle. Add to that the dust thrown up from construction sites that never seem to pause, and the industrial belts ringing the capital — and you have all the ingredients for a seasonal disaster. The geography and winter wind patterns do the rest, trapping everything close to the ground like a lid on a pot.

Living through this isn’t a passive activity. Delhiites have developed an unofficial winter survival doctrine.

First rule? A proper mask is non-negotiable. Those cotton face coverings might look fashionable, but they won’t shield lungs from microscopic pollutants. People now keep N95 or N99 masks the way others keep umbrellas — always at the ready.

Inside homes, air purifiers hum like loyal household appliances, as essential now as ceiling fans. Families tape window gaps shut, parents lecture kids about "purifier zones,” and plants — those hardy indoor warriors — occupy every corner. Oxygen might not be something most cities worry about indoors, but Delhi has learned to prepare for the bizarre.

Daily routines change, too. Runners abandon their favourite parks and head for treadmills or living-room yoga mats. Traffic is timed strategically — not only to avoid jams, but to avoid breathing exhaust fumes during the heaviest rush periods. Hydration bottles stay full, ginger-tulsi concoctions simmer on stoves, and citrus fruit suddenly feels less like a snack and more like medicine.

Of course, not everyone has the luxury of purifiers or remote work. Delivery personnel, auto drivers, construction workers — they remain outside, breathing what they must. And that’s the heart of the issue: individual coping strategies can help, but they are ultimately band-aids. Air is a shared resource. No filter or diet plan fixes a poisoned environment.

Yes, there are occasional days when strong winds sweep through and the sky briefly turns blue again. Social media fills instantly with photos — because Delhiites have learned to celebrate something as basic as a clear sky. But everyone knows those moments are borrowed. Without serious policy enforcement, cleaner fuels, better public transport use, and agricultural innovation, the cycle will continue.

For now, Delhi keeps breathing — carefully, anxiously, defiantly. Winter here used to be a time for shawls, roasted peanuts, and foggy mornings. Today, it’s survival season. Residents can only hope that someday soon, the city’s crisp winter air will return not as a memory, but as reality.