Eleven-year-old Senu from Khamkheda Jatra village in Ashta tehsil, 80 km from Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh, had one dream—to study at Jawahar Navodaya Vidyalaya (JNV) , the residential school network for bright rural students. A lively child who loved cricket and kabaddi, he had scraped together Rs 1,200 for the entrance form and guidebooks.
But this Diwali, the festival of lights brought Senu only darkness. The child sustained serious injuries on Dhanteras, when a carbide gun of his cousin he was peeping into suddenly exploded with a loud sound, akin to a firecracker.
"I was looking inside the barrel to understand why the gun did not make the blast sound upon clicking the trigger as it was supposed to when it suddenly went off", Senu told The Quint.
Senu now lies prone in a bed in his room, one of his eyes covered by white gauze, after an operation in a hospital in Bhopal and discharged recently his future suddenly uncertain.
“I don’t know how I will be able to appear for the exam now,” he says, his voice faint and vision blurred. Senu isn't the only one with such a story.
Bhuepndra Thakur, 15, alias 'Chulbul', from a neighbouring village in Ichchawar, about 60 km away from Bhopal, was working hard to clear class 10th exam with excellent marks before a similar accident. Already a student of JNV, the teenager is now nursing his eye injury; one of his eyes has blurred vision after he sustained carbide gun injury two days before Diwali.
"I can’t focus with one eye and my studies are badly hampered," he said, adding he learned about the gun from an Instagram reel and assembled it with a plastic pipe at home.
“When it did not work, I emptied the carbide from it (calcium carbide pebbles) and peeped into the plastic barrel when a mixture of a gas (Acetylene, a colorless, flammable hydrocarbon gas that is used as a fuel, mostly for welding due to the high temperature of its flame when mixed with oxygen) gushed out creating burning sensation in my eye".Bhuepndra Thakur alias Chulbul
Senu and Chulbul are among scores of children and young persons injured almost in the same manner this festive season by carbide guns. Coming just weeks after toxic cough syrups killed children in Madhya Pradesh, carbide guns—banned but easily available online—have done irreparable damage, revealing yet again how the state’s pattern of lax oversight continues to cost lives and futures.
Carbine Gun is Not a Cracker
Carbide guns are crude explosive devices made by plastic or tin pipes and lighter to produce a loud sound by mixing calcium carbide and water. Popping the guns produces acetylene gas and a deafening blast accompanied with some sparks.
It’s an old device and has been used by villagers for a long time. But this Diwali season, they suddenly became popular as a Diwali patakha (cracker) following viral social media videos depicting its alternate use. A sudden surge in demand led to the item appearing on footpaths and in village haats (weekly markets) in large numbers. The result was fatal.
Doctors at All India Institute of Medical Science (AIIMS) and Hamidia Hospital in Bhopal say they have treated over 50 patients this season for burn injuries ranging from mild to severe. The overall cases across Madhya Pradeh were believed to be over 300. Between 10 and 15 percent of them sustained irreversible eye damage, mostly among those aged 10 to 25 years.
“The burns were devastating—from limbal stem cell loss to thermal and corneal damage,” says an ophthalmologist of Bhopal. “Many will never regain normal vision. It’s heartbreaking, because every single case was preventable.”
Dr Aditi Dubey, Associate Professor at Gandhi Medical College, Bhopal said amniotic membrane grafts—a procedure that helps rebuild the eye’s surface was performed in some cases.
“It’s too early to say if they’ll work. We have to wait for months to see the outcome.”Dr Aditi Dubey
Dr Kavita Kumar who heads the Ophthalmology department at Gandhi Medical college, Bhopal said, "We handled about 40 patients with mild to serious burn injuries from carbide guns. All of them have been discharged.”
Professor and head of Ophthalmology department at AIIMS Bhopal Dr Bhavna Sharma said 15 cases of grievous ocular injuries, many with carbide particles still lodged in the eye were reported. “Their prognosis is guarded,” she say “s, adding, "Several may need either limbal surgery, corneal transplants or both and 12 to 18 months of recovery.”
A Toothless Ban & Echoes of Cough Syrup Tragedy
The state government officially banned carbide guns years ago after repeated incidents of injury, accidental or otherwise. But the ban has remained largely symbolic as the item remains widely sold on e-commerce platforms. A quick online search reveals multiple listings selling them as monkey repellents or bird-scaring devices.
Calcium carbide—the key chemical—is also easily available online and in local hardware shops, as it is used for fruit ripening and metal welding. This makes it easy to assemble the makeshift 'patakha' at home with just the parts bought separately.
“Once it’s in the open market, there’s no control over how it’s used. Fruit ripening with calcium carbide is also dangerous for health,” admits a food safety officer in Bhopal.
The guns are frequently used during festivals and weddings to create loud blasts, often by teenagers or young men seeking a moment of thrill. “They think it’s harmless fun,” says a doctor at Hamidia, “until it blows up in their faces.”
Just weeks before these burn cases filled hospital wards, Madhya Pradesh made national headlines for another tragedy—infant deaths linked to the toxic cough syrup, Coldrif.
Whether it’s adulterated medicines or explosive devices, the story remains the same—one of official negligence and fragmented enforcement.
“Different departments are supposed to regulate different risks—the Food and Drug Administration is responsible for drugs, chemicals are to be overseen by the industry, and online sales by IT authorities,” says a senior health official, speaking off-record.
The victims tell a grim story. At the AIIMS, burn wards are filled with children and young adults, their faces scarred and eyelids fused shut. “Even when vision returns partially, the cosmetic damage may be lifelong,” says an ophthalmologist. “Some will need multiple surgeries just to open their eyes.”
Families are often pushed into debt to afford travel and treatment. Senu’s father, a marginal farmer, said, “We had never heard of carbide guns before. I have already spent over Rs 15,000 in the treatment”.
Doctors warn that the long-term burden is immense.
“Ocular burn cases require sustained care. Many need repeated procedures, lifelong eye drops, and protective lenses. The system isn’t prepared for this scale."Dr Kavita Kumar
Too Little Too Late
On October 18, MP Chief Minister Mohan Yadav ordered a statewide crackdown, directing carbide guns be treated as prohibited explosive devices under the Arms Act (1959), Explosives Act (1884), and Explosive Substances Act (1908).
In a belated move, the state government also began a public awareness campaign, especially targeting parents, schools, and children, to warn that carbide guns are not toys but explosive weapons. But by this time, the damage has already been done.
The MP Police's Cyber Cell has been ordered to monitor e-commerce websites and social media for listings of carbide guns or their components, while local police teams are conducting raids on toy shops and roadside vendors, government sources said. But officials concede that the ban lacks enforcement mechanisms. There are no regular inspections of online marketplaces or chemical retailers.
“The police act only after an accident,” says a senior home department officer. “There’s no pre-emptive system to track sales or check distribution.”
This is not the first such crisis. Carbide gun injuries spiked in 2022 and 2023, yet no major crackdown followed. Similarly, after each cough syrup-linked death, authorities promise stricter monitoring.
Public health analysts warn that such incidents are symptoms of a deeper malaise: weak institutional accountability.
“In both the drug tragedy and these burn injuries, you see the same pattern — poor surveillance, weak inter-department coordination, and delayed response. These are not isolated accidents. They are systemic failures.” said a senior government official.
For Senu and hundreds like him, the state’s failures are personal. The exam form he once filled with hope now lies folded beside his bed.
The boy who once dreamed of running across a cricket pitch now waits for doctors to tell him whether he will ever see again with his injured eye. The vision is still blurred.
As Madhya Pradesh reels from one public health crisis after another—from toxic medicines to explosive 'toys'—the question remains: how many more children will pay for the state’s inability to enforce its own laws?
(The author is a senior journalist based in Madhya Pradesh.)