Smell of gunpowder: Constant reminder of death

The scent of gunpowder is often a haunting reminder of death. In the world of fireworks manufacturing, explosions are an inseparable shadow. There is hardly a single unit anywhere that hasn't encountered an accident at least once. Gunpowder lies in wait, ready to ignite at the slightest oversight. No matter how many safety precautions are followed or how strictly laws are implemented, no one can predict when or how that one fatal error will occur. Even in the detailed forensic probes and investigations that follow these disasters, the exact cause often remains elusive. The mistake, and the humans who made it, are usually incinerated and buried in the earth along with the blast. After a brief interval, these fireworks tragedies inevitably repeat themselves.

The massive explosion at a fireworks shed in Mundathicode, Thrissur, has shocked and grieved the state of Kerala. Fourteen lives were blown to pieces in an instant. More than ten others are currently in hospitals, battling for their lives in critical condition. This disaster occurred even before the shock of the explosion in Virudhunagar, Tamil Nadu—which claimed 25 lives just days ago—had subsided.

The blast took place at the manufacturing centre in Mundathicode Kuttamkulam, where fireworks were being prepared for the Thiruvambady side of the Thrissur Pooram. The bodies of many deceased workers were scattered in fragments. A few workers managed to run to safety by sheer luck. This soul-crushing tragedy struck the village shortly after 3:00 PM.

This is not the first time Kerala has witnessed such a calamity. The state's largest fireworks disaster occurred at the Puttingal Temple in Paravur, Kollam, an event so catastrophic that the Prime Minister had to visit the site the very next day. That 2016 tragedy claimed 114 lives. Historically, the highest number of fireworks-related accidents and deaths have been recorded in the Palakkad district. One also cannot forget the tragedy near the Jagannath Temple in Thalassery, where 27 people who were sitting on railway tracks to watch the fireworks display were struck and killed by a train.

Following such disasters, authorities typically announce strict safety measures and enforce them for a short period. However, history shows that these tragedies eventually recur. The time has come for festival organisers to voluntarily reconsider conducting large-scale pyrotechnic displays (Kambakkettu). If that is not possible, a firm decision must be made to ban competitive fireworks (Matsarakambam) under all circumstances.

District administrations must take a hard stance against granting permits for such competitions. It cannot be denied that the reckless pursuit of victory—by demonstrating extreme explosive intensity—is often the root cause of these disasters.

Every fireworks disaster reminds us of the foresight shown by Sree Narayana Guru years ago, when he advised that kari (elephants) and karimarunnu (gunpowder) have no place in temple festivals.

Disasters of this nature cannot be prevented by laws and regulations alone without a fundamental change in the mindset of the organisers. Today, modern technology offers ways to create spectacular visual displays in the sky without the danger of explosives. Organisers must pivot toward such alternative methods.

Furthermore, the current practice of handling gunpowder without any protective gear—often without even basic clothing—can no longer be permitted. Storage and manufacturing units should never be allowed in areas where ambulances and fire tenders lack easy access. In the Mundathicode tragedy, rescuers had to demolish a wall to reach the victims, highlighting a severe lapse in planning. At the very least, moving forward, both the public and the government must show the vigilance and resolve necessary to ensure such a tragedy never happens again.