When Mumbai’s municipal corporation asked Dia Mirza to speak about firecrackers and pollution, it probably thought it was doing something useful.

But, Mumbai BJP chief Ameet Satam invoked tradition, the corporation took down her video, and the Bombay High Court asked that it be restored.

All this over an appeal to make Diwali a little easier on the lungs and ears. Imagine the trouble she would have caused if she had asked us to put less sugar in the laddoos!

I like the word tradition. It comes in handy when somebody asks why we do something and we haven’t a clue. “We’ve always done it,” we say, with the air of a man producing the original title deeds. And if somebody still has the impertinence to ask why, we bring in our ancestors.

The great advantage of bringing in our ancestors is that nobody can ask them whether they agree.

In many homes, it was once considered quite proper for a girl to stay home while her brother went to college. Try telling that to your daughter today. Better still, try telling it to the woman surgeon just before she operates on you. I suspect you will suddenly become a great believer in women’s education and ask whether she happened to come first in her class.

And then there’s the dhoti.

A perfectly respectable garment, and one I wish I knew how to tie properly.

Our grandfathers could wear one and go about bare chested without a second thought. I would like to see some of our stout defenders of tradition turn up dressed that way for a television debate.

I suspect the first thing they would ask the studio manager to do is turn down the air conditioning.

Over the last couple of evenings, I watched birds scatter at the first cracker blasts and dogs scramble for somewhere to hide. I thought of the elderly and the sick, finally asleep until somebody set off a bomb outside their window.

There’s a peculiar generosity about the fellow who lights it. He pays for one cracker and insists on sharing it with three buildings, two babies and every cat and dog in the lane.

Our grandparents did many things with the little knowledge they had. Surely, we can do them the courtesy of using the knowledge we have?

We can light our diyas, make an extra plate of sweets for the neighbour and let the old man upstairs sleep. And when somebody speaks about the smoke, we could listen to what she says before asking what community she comes from.

The smoke, having considerably better manners than some of our politicians, enters everybody’s lungs without asking.

As for the politician who insists that everything our grandfathers did must be done exactly as they did it, I have a small request. Come to your next press conference in a dhoti, bare chested. Then tell us, as the air conditioning comes on, how firmly you stand by tradition..!

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