Ten years ago, I moved my family from Delhi to Bhubaneswar so my daughter could finally breathe freely. Back in the national capital, she lived on a constant nebuliser. Career took a back seat and the city was our refuge – green parks, tree-lined streets and clear skies were a balm for her asthma and for my mother’s too.
Last winter, a visiting friend remarked how bright and clean the city looked, how the leaves stayed remarkably dust-free. This season, everything changed.
Bhubaneswar’s air has turned alarmingly poor. Official monitors recorded a hazardous AQI of 423 on 12–13 December 2025, with levels frequently hovering between 262 and 348 (Unhealthy to Severe) throughout the month. In early January 2026, the CPCB listed the city at AQI 294 (“Poor”). Local readings showed two of the last eight days of January as “Very Poor” (AQI > 300), and the rest as “Poor.”
For us, this means the once-blue skies now carry a yellowish-brown haze. Mornings arrive shrouded in fog, and every leaf wears a dull coat of dust. Gone are the days when we bragged that our home remained fresh and green even as Delhi choked under winter smog.
This toxic shift is not just visible – it’s tangible in our family. My daughter is back on nebulisers, and my mother’s asthma flares far more often. The data confirms what we feel. Odisha’s own climate-health action plan for 2022–27 notes a rise in acute respiratory infections and influenza-like illnesses statewide. In Bhubaneswar, health centres record roughly 183 respiratory cases per 1,000 people annually, with a 25% surge in winter when pollution peaks. Doctors warn that children, the elderly, and those with pre-existing lung conditions are particularly vulnerable. Local hospitals are seeing more breathing-related cases, and the signs are everywhere as I see parents in masks and cough syrup flying off pharmacy shelves.
If we don’t reverse this trend, I fear we will soon share the same quiet dread that Delhi’s parents have lived with for years.
What caused this calamity? Look around. The city is in the midst of intense development — roads widening, flyovers rising, a new bus stand coming up, and a metro line on the horizon. But this progress has brought clouds of dust in its wake. Journalists have rightly called Bhubaneswar’s “Smart City” projects a dust bowl. Many standard safeguards appear to have been ignored. We heard talk of banning night construction, yet no real curbs were enforced. Every morning I sweep fresh dust off my table that wasn’t there the night before. It seeps into our homes, into our lungs.
Worse, the city’s trees — our natural air filters — are paying the heaviest price. For just one road expansion (the Ekamra Kanan–Patia link), authorities permitted the felling of over 250 mature trees at Salia Sahi. Is there a serious plan to replant equivalent greenery, or more? A few years ago, as your flight descended, you could see a thick green canopy with houses peeking through only at the last moment. Today, the green is sparse. The city is turning into yet another concrete jungle. The jackfruit, mango and neem trees that once lined our roads and courtyards are vanishing. Cutting down our urban lungs for wider roads feels like a profound betrayal of what Bhubaneswar once promised.
This winter’s haze is not natural mist. Official bulletins confirmed it: Bhubaneswar’s AQI was 294 on January 3, and environmental scientists in news headlines warned citizens to “limit outdoor activities” and wear protective masks even in the city. Every morning, our skyline disappears behind grey smog. This winter while driving up the hill near Chilika toward Berhampur, I could barely see the lake. This came as a shock as I have never seen a layer of fog over Chilika in the past. We now lie awake wondering whether Chilika’s migratory birds are choking on this polluted fog as they arrive. Asia’s largest brackish lagoon, once so clear and pristine, now wears a worrying veil of haze.
This is not the clean winter air we once bragged about – it’s a warning for all of us.
Meanwhile, we must note that Odisha still has no automatic “graded response” plan to stop heavy construction on high-AQI days. We need one urgently. Construction sites must pause when AQI crosses dangerous thresholds. I am not against progress; I am rejecting the notion that gasping for breath is the tax we pay for civilisation. Clean air should not be a nostalgic memory or a luxury reserved for weekend escapes to Konark or Simlipal. It should be the bare minimum any city guarantees its residents. When a city fails to provide clean air, it doesn’t just damage our health; it stifles our spirit. Bhubaneswar used to be a place that sharpened the intellect; now, it just dulls the senses. It is time we stop debating the levels of the smog and start questioning why we ever signed such a toxic contract.
We appeal to the Bhubaneswar Municipal Corporation, the state Environment Department, and all those in leadership: please act before the damage becomes irreversible. What broke the delicate balance in recent years? We need to introspect. Earlier growth did not choke the air like this. We must rediscover that balance between development and livability. Enforce strict dust-control measures on every project, round the clock. Ban open waste burning and smoky fuels. Replant every felled tree. Monitor construction sites rigorously and penalise violations. Issue timely public health alerts. Make real-time air quality data easily accessible and mobilise healthcare accordingly.
This city was once a rare clean and green refuge – we can’t let it slip away.
We are angry, but there is no politics here — only a heartfelt plea to administrators and those responsible for environment, development and public health. For the sake of our children, our elders, and every family that chose Bhubaneswar and Odisha to escape the smog of bigger cities.
