Years ago, I saw Nelson Mandela’s dingy cell in South Africa’s Robben Island prison — an equivalent of India’s “Kalapaani”. It was a 7x9 square-ft, cage-like cell where the 6-ft tall Mandela spent 18 years of his life. In the dark cell that seemed to sap one’s energy, he worked out every day, trying to keep himself mentally and physically fit. He spent 27 years in various prisons, living the same life.

Meanwhile, the world saw innumerable ups and downs, but Mandela, in solitary confinement, kept the flame of his struggle alive and intact. Recently, he has been appearing more often in my thoughts. Not because of his sacrifices, struggles or ideals but for the cell where he carried out his prison sentence while trying to keep himself healthy and fit. The toxic air in the National Capital Region (NCR) has forced thousands of people like me to walk or work-out within the confines of our homes.

Last Sunday was the limit. I got up a bit late and was stunned by what I saw from the balcony. From my 17th floor home in Noida, I wasn’t able to see the ground below. Between me and the surface of the planet, lay a thick pall of grey smog. I have seen clouds descend from the sky, but the smog seemed as if it were rising from the ground up.

These days, toxic air dominates our conversation and is perhaps the only point of discussion in Delhi-NCR. The old are unable to breathe, the young are suffocating too. Pregnant women are shying away from........

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