A letter on Bali’s Waste Burning Crisis

Since coming back to Bali from Jakarta, I’ve been on the motorbike almost every day — it’s honestly the easiest way to get around, especially with how crazy the traffic has gotten. But lately, these rides don’t bring the joy and freedom they used to.

Instead, I find myself holding my breath. Almost every 200 meters and all the route I take, I pass burning trash — and not just leaves or garden waste, but plastic packaging, food scraps, and synthetic materials. The smell is horrible and I worry about what I’m breathing in. I worry about what we’re all breathing in and I get so sad when I see toddlers walking pass it.

But it doesn’t stop on the roads. Some mornings, I wake up and smell the smoke in my bedroom. Some nights, I go to sleep with that same toxic scent seeping in through the windows . What should be my sanctuary — the place where I rest, restore, and feel safe — is being quietly polluted by fumes from burning waste nearby.

As someone who was born and raised in Ubud, this hits differently. This island is more than where I live — it’s home in the deepest sense. It’s where I learned to love nature, where ceremonies and offerings remind us of our duty to maintain balance. But these days, that balance feels off.

The open burning of waste seems to have gotten worse since the pandemic and it’s so sad that this is being somehow normalized. Whatever the cause, the impact is real — and it’s scary for Bali’s future. For our children. For the land, the air, and the waters that once felt pure.

It’s hard to speak up about these things as it is such a complex issue. But we I feel like I have to because this isn’t just about discomfort — it’s about our wellbeing and the right to breathe clean air in our own home. I don’t have all the answers and I’ve tried reporting these cases but it’s hopeless. Writing and talking about it feels like the least I can do when everything feels hopeless—it feels like shouting into the wind. But I still believe it matters.

I believe in the power of small steps and shared responsibility. Let’s spread awareness, educate each other, asking more from our leaders, supporting local organizations that are actually doing the work, caring enough to say something, even if it’s uncomfortable, and do better. I love this place and I know many of you do too. Let’s not normalise this. Let’s demand better — together.

With love (and a deep hopeful breath),
Laksmi