Some days, air pollution isn't just something I read about in AQI reports or see as a grey haze outside my window. I can feel it inside my body. Those days, breathing becomes a task- every breath seems to travel through my inflamed sinuses, tightening my temples and settling in a chest that feels unusually heavy.
When pollution becomes something you feel inside your body
As a woman with sinus problems, polluted winter air can be debilitating. I can almost feel the irritation in my mouth. Sometimes the sinuses are so inflammed that I can actually feel them popping through the cavities around my nose and palate. I wake up with a dry mouth because my nose refuses to let air in, so I have to breathe through my mouth. It doesn’t end with irritation; it starts a cycle of pain that lasts for months. Everything inside and around my face starts to ache-my jaws ache, my eye sockets turn sore, and what follows is often a splitting headache that feels remarkably like a migraine.
The vicious cycle of sinus attacks, medication and rising blood pressure
For days, I find myself relying on anti-allergy medication and a cocktail of many others to manage the pain. I shut myself inside a room, draw the curtains, and switch off the lights. I cannot bear conversations, sometimes not even with my children. I want to be left alone. The headache drains me of every bit of energy, making even the simplest everyday tasks seem exhausting.
And the problem does not end with the headache. Blocked sinuses, medication, and rising blood pressure is a vicious cycle that becomes an altogether another battle. Some medicines used for nasal congestion, particularly those containing decongestants, can raise blood pressure- studies have shown but I found out the hard way when my blood pressure refused to get normal, and the culprit turned out to be a medicine given to drain out mucus.
In North India, winter itself can add to the problem: cold temperatures cause blood vessels to constrict, potentially pushing blood pressure higher anyways- the combo becomes lethal with mucus-draining medicine. So begins another round of trying to get my BP under control while managing the sinuses. Nasal spray has to be replaced with saline sprays and anti-allergic medicine, which become my best friends. So does the good old steamer. The cycle keeps repeating in a loop until Spring arrives in Delhi.
I grew up breathing Kashmir's air. My children are growing up breathing Delhi's toxic fumes
While dealing with all this, I often wonder: if this is what polluted air does to a body that had already completed most of its growth and development in the unpolluted terrains of the Himalayas in Kashmir, what is it doing to children growing up in India’s National Capital Region, which is one of the worst pollution areas in the world?
Yes, I grew up in Kashmir, where the air was clean when I was a child in the 1980s and 1990s, and it's still cleaner than most places in the country. I moved to Delhi only after finishing my post-graduation, when I was in my early 20s. My lungs and brain developed in an environment very different from the one my children breathe today.
When even skating and playing outdoors become a struggle
My daughter was six when we moved to Delhi. She is now 14. My son was 10; now he is 19. Their bodies, lungs and brain were still developing when we moved cities. Science says young bodies breathe faster and take in more polluted air than adults.
My slightly older son had his fair share of problems with adenoids and upper respiratory tract infections, but thankfully for the past two years, he has shifted to a country where AQI is not even a discussion, as it rarely moves into double digits.
But my daughter seems more affected. She has been breathing toxic air for most part of her life, and I can see the consequences.
I remember her skating during winters. She was among the fittest children her age, yet some days she would become breathless. The smog forced her to slow down, even when her enthusiasm and physical ability told her she could do more. One winter, during a district-level competition, the cold morning smog almost triggered a full episode of breathlessness. The reaction was so severe we were forced to consult doctors to rule out possibilities of anything serious.
Even now, she cannot handle a smoggy morning; headaches are a recurring problem for her during winters, too. On heavily polluted days, she describes a strange exhaustion, almost as if someone has squeezed all the energy out of her body. The headaches interfere not just with her ability to concentrate on her studies but also with her sleep.
And I cannot help wondering what else the pollution is doing to her growing body, silently and perhaps irreversibly.
We moved for a better future. But what about the air our children breathe?
We left Kashmir in search of a better future, better opportunities and better education for our children. Delhi offered possibilities that we believed would help them build a better life. But every winter, as the air turns toxic and stepping outdoors becomes a health risk, I find myself questioning that decision.
What does a better future mean if children cannot run, skate, play, or simply breathe without consequences?
We talk about AQI numbers, pollution-control measures and emergency restrictions. But behind those numbers are families struggling to get through ordinary days, children losing their stamina, and mothers watching helplessly as their children grow up breathing toxic air.
I will not talk about A, B, C, D reasons for air pollution in Delhi-NCR, but I will talk about accountability, acknowledging the problem and finding the solution.
I wonder how many more winters it will take before we acknowledge the real cost of this invisible assault on our children's health.
We moved for a better life. I only hope the air they breathe does not affect the very future we wanted for them.