It’s that time of the year again when Delhi turns into a gas chamber. X (formerly Twitter) turns into a morality pageant, and self-declared “investigative journalists” rediscover their empathy, one performative post at a time.
Recently, “concerned voices” on X posted an emotional plea on behalf of a group of mothers demanding a meeting with the Chief Minister of Delhi. They wanted to discuss the toxic air their children are forced to breathe, but the Chief Minister’s Office reportedly didn’t grant them time. The tone was familiar — disappointment, despair, and just the right amount of outrage for social media traction.
Except, as always, the question was aimed at the wrong person.
The smoke doesn’t rise from Delhi
Anyone who has seen NASA’s FIRMS or VIIRS satellite data knows where the real fire burns — and it’s not in the streets of Delhi. The data, year after year, is unambiguous: Punjab remains the epicentre of stubble burning that chokes the National Capital Region every winter.
NASA’s remote sensors have mapped this phenomenon from 2020 to 2025 with surgical precision. In 2021 alone, Punjab recorded over 76,000 farm fires, one of the highest in five years. Even in the so-called “improvement” years — 2022, 2023, and 2024 — satellite images still showed tens of thousands of fire clusters in the fields of Sangrur, Bathinda, and Moga like a seasonal ritual.
By November 2025, more than 2,800 fresh farm fires had already been reported in Punjab. Yet somehow, Delhi’s Chief Minister continues to be the most convenient villain of this story.
The politics of deflection
There’s a reason for this selective outrage. It’s easier — and safer — to question Delhi’s Chief Minister than to confront the super Chief Minister of Punjab when your ideology favors the latter.
Yes, the Aam Aadmi Party’s government in Punjab has the power, machinery, and political capital to address this crisis at its root. But accountability is an inconvenient concept when your own governance model is at stake.
So, the strategy is simple: When Punjab burns, elites blame Delhi.
The “mothers’ plea” makes for excellent optics. Emotional, non-confrontational, and perfectly aligned with the kind of activism that never risks naming the actual responsible government.
The convenience of moral theatre
This isn’t about empathy — It’s about deflection disguised as compassion. It’s the theatre of performative outrage where everyone cries for clean air, but no one wants to ask why Punjab’s policies remain unchanged, why crop residue management schemes fail every year, and why enforcement conveniently collapses when votes are at stake.
When satellite data shows tens of thousands of fires, the response from Punjab’s leadership isn’t urgency — It’s silence, coupled with token press conferences and recycled slogans about “biofuel innovation.” Delhi gets the smoke, Punjab gets the excuses, and social media gets its daily dose of moral superiority.
Accountability isn’t location-specific
Let’s be clear: Delhi’s pollution isn’t caused by a single factor. Vehicular emissions, construction dust, and industrial waste all play their parts. But pretending that stubble burning is a minor footnote in the story is intellectual dishonesty.
NASA’s imagery doesn’t have a political bias — It simply shows where the fire begins, and it begins in Punjab, year after year, under governments that promise solutions but deliver photo ops.
So when journalists and activists point fingers at Delhi’s Chief Minister while ignoring the Super CM who actually controls Punjab’s policies, it’s not just misplaced outrage — it’s propaganda through omission.
The real question
The real question isn’t, “Why didn’t Delhi’s CM meet the mothers?”. It is, “Why does Punjab keep burning while its government keeps pretending it doesn’t?”
Until that question is asked — and answered — the hypocrisy will continue to hang as thick in the air as the smog itself.
Delhi may be coughing, but Punjab’s silence is the real pollution.
