Smog & November Blues

India Gate im Smog

The Smog is a nasty thing

At the end of October, when the temperatures in Delhi start to drop, the smog settles over the city like a heavy blanket and doesn’t disappear again until late February, when it warms up. Any meteorologist would immediately think of an inversion weather pattern. But knowing the technical term doesn’t help you in the slightest.

If you didn’t know better, you might think it was fog. But the moment you step outside, you feel the scratch in your throat. Sometimes it even burns in your eyes. You instantly sense how unhealthy the smog is. The longer you stay outside, the scratchier your throat becomes, and I even get headaches. The next day I feel downright hungover, despite not having had a single drink.

Luckily, you’re not entirely helpless against the smog.

My 8-point smog strategy

1. Air filters everywhere

   We have a good air purifier in every room of our apartment, each equipped with a new filter before smog season starts. It was the most expensive, but by far the best investment.

2. Seal the apartment

   Tape over the bathroom ventilator openings, add sealing strips to doors and windows. We basically live in a nearly hermetically sealed bubble.

3. Add houseplants

   I prefer spider plants. They’re low-maintenance, remove toxins, and add moisture to the dry air.

4. Install a filter in the car as well

   Even the 20-minute drive to school should be safe.

5. Spend as little time outside as possible

   Obvious, but effective.

6. Drink plenty of fluids

   To support the lungs’ natural self-cleaning system. Water, tea, more water.

7. And of course, ginger tea

   It’s always a good idea. :)

8. Leave Delhi if possible

   We do that every year during the long winter break. Goa, Thailand, Germany—anywhere but here. This escape is a privilege, I know that. Most people can’t just disappear for four weeks. I’m aware of it, and I’m grateful.

Life in the smog: Adapting is surviving

Since we can’t leave Delhi during the school year, we simply adapt. We only go outside when necessary. Personally, I don’t find it terribly restrictive because I always remind myself of the weather back in Germany. Honestly, in November—with cold rain and grey skies—I wasn’t outside much anyway, regardless of how good the air was.

Some people go outside wearing masks. If that works for them, great. I personally struggle with masks; within minutes I feel like I can’t breathe properly underneath. So I don’t wear them often.

My husband has to cut back on his outdoor sports—tennis and football. The kids at school stay inside during breaks. There are “movement breaks” in designated rooms where they can run around. Of course, the air at school is filtered, too. For PE, they often go to the bouldering hall—a climbing facility that also has air purifiers. On weekends, you can take the kids to indoor play areas with filtered air (not exactly cheap), or you simply stay home and invite friends over.

At home, our air values are usually below 10 µg/m³, often even below 5 µg/m³. These numbers measure the concentration of lung-penetrating particles up to 2.5 micrometers in diameter. That’s excellent. That’s why I’ve never truly felt endangered by the smog while living in Delhi. Even during power outages, the generator kicks in and keeps the purifiers running.

The key moment

I’m frying meat in the kitchen when suddenly the air purifier starts blowing like crazy. Tick, tick, tick—the number climbs. 150 µg/m³, 250 µg/m³, 350 µg/m³.From a simple frying process!

I stare at the display and think: If frying meat produces this much fine dust… how did we ever live in Germany without filters, without daily wet mopping? I remember how the air in our living room during long card game nights—while the fireplace was crackling—was often thick enough to cut. But back then, there were no devices telling us how bad the air quality was. So nobody worried about it.

In Germany, everyone preaches proper ventilation. But honestly, who ventilates the way they recommend? Several times a day with wide-open windows. I didn’t do it, and I never saw anyone else doing it. Mostly, windows are tilted open in the naive assumption that it has the same effect.

When I think about how much of my life I spend indoors and how little time I actually spend outside, it becomes absurdly clear that, here in Delhi, with our air purifiers, I’m ultimately breathing better indoor air than I ever did in Germany without them. My filters run 24/7, and Silmanti wipes away the dust every day and keeps everything clean.

Two realities in the same smog

Every year, the media dramatizes Delhi’s smog anew. The city becomes an undesirable posting, even though—with enough financial means—you can live quite well here.

I am aware that my 8-point strategy is a luxury issue. While I think about filter brands and whether the generator will start during a power outage, millions of people in this city breathe the same toxic air without any protection. Rickshaw drivers, street vendors, people living on the streets, people living in simple homes without filters—they all have no choice. I’m sure this includes our cleaning lady and our driver. They face the smog unprotected, day after day, hour after hour.

Of course, the Indian government has long recognized the problem and tries to respond with laws. Cars older than ten years are no longer allowed in Delhi. On heavy smog days, only vehicles with even or odd plate numbers may drive.

But these are tiny parts of a very complex problem. Smog has many causes: vehicle emissions and industry contribute the most. Then there’s construction dust, and even dust from the Thar Desert. It becomes especially dramatic in October and November when farmers in Punjab burn their fields. Burning stubble is the only affordable way for many farmers to prepare the land quickly for the next sowing season. They can’t afford machines that would plough the stubble under. So they burn illegally, risking fines—and Delhi chokes on the smoke.

Now Delhi is installing giant outdoor air purifier towers. In the face of the smog cloud, it seems almost absurd. But maybe it helps reduce the burden for those who can’t live in filtered air.

I’ve never understood why health and life expectancy should depend on wealth. But the smog issue makes that painfully clear: the wealthy breathe filtered air, the poor do not.

The illusion of a home feeling

Ironically, the smog triggers a sense of home in me. It often looks like fog, and that brings with it a faint feeling of autumn and the approach of Christmas. There are no other visual signals. Temperatures remain above 20 degrees during the day, and the trees are still green and blooming. If it weren’t for the smog masquerading as fog, it could just as well be spring.

The smog is my German November blues. It forces me to stay inside and view the world through glass—with a hot cup of tea, and a feeling quietly, strangely familiar.

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