From Boo Jia Cher
On Monday in Kulim, Kedah, what began as a Deepavali celebration ended in tragedy. A firecracker exploded along Jalan Paya Besar, injuring 22 people. One man was badly cut across the forehead, others suffered burns and shrapnel wounds. Within seconds, the air was filled with smoke and screams.
It’s an image that captures the uncomfortable truth about fireworks in Malaysia: beneath the bright lights and festive cheer lies a far darker cost.
Every festive season, peace and quiet give way to chaos. The air thickens with smoke, the sky rattles with explosions, and the night turns into something closer to a warzone than a celebration.
Those who work the day shifts can’t sleep, the elderly are startled awake, and pets tremble under the sofa.
The festive glow lasts a few seconds. The noise and haze linger far longer.
Easy and illegal access
Part of the problem lies in how easy fireworks are to obtain. In the weeks before any major celebration, stalls mushroom by the roadside — in carparks, along roads, outside shops.
Piled high with boxes of “Thunder Bombs” and “Dragon Rockets,” many of these stalls look dubious at best, selling dangerous imported explosives under the flimsiest pretence of legality.
Enforcement is often weak or inconsistent, as with many other aspects of Malaysian life, and everyone knows it. Despite repeated police seizures of smuggled fireworks worth tens of millions of ringgit, the trade keeps growing.
Each year, the products seem louder, stronger, and more accessible, especially to children, who often play unsupervised, lighting rockets at each other or tossing firecrackers across the street.
Predictable harm from playing with explosives
The result is predictable: accidents, injuries, and sometimes tragedy. Children have lost fingers, eyes, even their lives to fireworks.
Just earlier this year, a father in Kedah was arrested after his kids were injured by firecrackers at home. In Selangor, a stall blaze in Sabak Bernam injured several people when its canopy caught fire.
Each case is treated as an unfortunate mishap, but by now, they are routine.
The environmental and health costs are no less serious. Fireworks release heavy metals, sulphur dioxide, and fine particulate matter into the air, aggravating asthma and other respiratory illnesses.
Many Malaysians report coughing and irritation after nights filled with fireworks smoke; a brief haze of our own making.
The loud blasts, often exceeding 150 decibels, can cause hearing damage and stress, particularly for infants, the elderly, and those recovering from illness. What should be moments of rest during public holidays become nights of endurance.
And then there are the animals. Pets panic, hide, and sometimes bolt into traffic. Birds flee their nests in terror, leaving young chicks to die. The celebration that brings joy to humans is, for countless animals, a night of confusion and fear.
Yet, our sense of entitlement continues to treat this suffering as collateral damage.
‘Me and my fun are most important’
It all points to a deeper malaise: an entitled, self-centred attitude that says: my fun matters more than your peace. Too many Malaysians treat celebrations as a personal right, not a shared responsibility.
The unspoken mindset goes: I can do whatever I want — blast, smoke, and deafen the neighbourhood — and everyone else just has to put up with it. The suffering of others is dismissed as oversensitivity, as if their right to rest, clean air, and safety somehow counts for less.
Regulation seriously needed
Malaysia cannot continue treating this as a harmless tradition. Fireworks should be regulated with seriousness, not shrugged off as inevitable.
Sales must be restricted to licensed vendors with clear safety standards; roadside stalls should not be allowed to stock dangerous contraband.
Fireworks use should be confined to designated open areas, away from dense residential neighbourhoods.
There must be patrols, firm curfews, and heavy fines for those lighting fireworks past midnight or in unauthorised spaces.
Festive seasons are meant to bring joy, not sleepless nights, terrified pets, and hospitals with burn victims. Celebrations should bring happiness for everyone, not endanger or terrify the people.
If we truly wish to honour the spirit of festivity, then it’s time to draw a line between joy and recklessness and finally reclaim the peace we all deserve.
Boo Jia Cher is an FMT reader.
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.
