Back in the 18th century, Prithvi Narayan Shah, training his eyes from the Chandragiri hills, was supposedly entranced by the sight of Kathmandu Valley: Its verdant surrounding mountains, the majestic temples of the three cities, the fecund soil. Perhaps there was also a waft of cool breeze blowing, filling his lungs with the freshest air. Shah wouldn’t be so impressed now. For one, he wouldn’t even see half the valley that is perpetually blanketed in thick smog. The concrete jungle that he did see would have inspired more woe and wonder. And he would think many times before deeply inhaling the toxic air.

In the past few days, the valley has regained the ignominy of being ranked the most polluted place on the planet. The immediate cause is the uncontrolled burning of parched forests around the valley. That, coupled with the use of more and more fossil fuel, makes the valley a hazardous place to live at this time of the year. This is also because its bowl shape traps a lot of heat and does not allow for easy escape of the polluting air. Reportedly, there are incidents of fires in nearly half of the country’s forest areas, and the other half is also expected to see their fair share of fires over the next few weeks.

The smoke from these fires in the surrounding areas blows into Kathmandu and the polluting particles in the air settle in the valley’s low atmosphere. Rain would normally wash away these particles but there is typically little of it at the start of the Bikram Sambat. The air thus polluted has made life miserable for everyone, especially the elderly and those with compromised immunity who are coming down with respiratory illnesses. Those of them unfortunate to have also contracted Covid-19 are struggling for their very lives.

In fact, it is not just Kathmandu valley that has been buffeted by bad air. Pokhara, Nepal’s second biggest city, is also under thick smog, and flights in and out of the place have had to be cancelled. That is also the case with the urban habitats across the Tarai belt. Yet the authorities seem unbothered. Even as the air pollution problem assumes alarming proportions, there has been hardly a squeak about it in the national Parliament. In the country’s major forest areas, the local fire-fighting units don’t even have basic equipment. Nor has nearly enough been done to make people aware of accidentally or intentionally lighting up fires. What, one wonders, could be more important for the elected representatives than the health and wellbeing of its people?

Things are expected to get worse in the years ahead as the climate becomes more and more unpredictable. We in Nepal cannot control what people and governments in other countries do. But we can do at least the bare minimum on our own soil, for instance by increasing the budget for fire-fighting units at the local level, starting a strict regimen of punishment for those careless enough to leave fires unattended. It’s a start choice we face: We act now—or we will all soon be choking to death.