December 9, 2025
By Mateen Ali & Ali Baig
LAHORE
After nearly two decades of taking strict measures to ban Basant in the province, the Punjab government has finally given permission to celebrate the festival of kites following a new ordinance. This announcement has sparked a wave of mixed reactions across the province—on one side there is a growing excitement tinged with nostalgia, marred only by the bitterness of the years that have gone by when there were no celebrations. And then there are those who fear the the ‘dangers’ concerning of the lifting of the ban.
Basant was once the crown jewel of Punjab’s cultural center. Lahore, Kasur and other cities would come alive with vibrant colours, glowing rooftops, drums, food festivals, family gatherings, and skies full of colourful kites. People recall the festival with deep fondness. Pappu Pehalwan, resident of Lahore’s Lahore Gate recalls the days past.
“It used to be such a big event. Families cooked traditional dishes—gajrela, saag biryani, desi delights—and the whole night the inner city stayed awake. Foreign tourists came just to witness Basant. Kite makers created such beautiful kites that people were left stunned.”
But the festival’s joyous charm began to fade after the early 2000s. What was once a symbol of color and celebration gradually turned into a dangerous competition. Chemical-coated strings—stronger, sharper, deadlier—became common. Kites flown with such strings posed lethal risks.
The New Ordinance: Strict Rules, Doubtful Enforcement
The government’s newly issued ordinance allows Basant but under strict conditions:
- Only individuals 18 years or older may fly kites.
- All kites and strings must carry registered barcodes.
- Anyone involved in manufacturing or selling must register with local authorities.
Despite these regulations, concerns remain. Advocate Azhar Siddique has already challenged the ordinance in the Lahore High Court. He argues that ensuring compliance with these rules is practically impossible:
“If every year we fail to control theft, murder, and street crime, how will we guarantee that no illegal strings will be used? If even one life is lost, responsibility will fall on those who approved this festival.”
He maintains that without proper planning and stakeholder consultation, reintroducing Basant could lead to tragic consequences once again.
“The original thread used for kite-flying would break easily, but it never cut anyone’s throat. Then came the chemical string that was so tough that it wouldn’t snap even when it was in extreme tension. When kites got tangled, strings would fly for two or three kilometers. People would try to reel them back and the string would slash hands—or worse, someone’s neck.”
Violence needed a place to simmer. Rival kite-flying groups engaged in fights, celebratory gunfire increased, and accidental deaths became frequent. These safety concerns eventually led to the complete ban on Basant in 2007.
A Vanished Cottage Industry
When the ban was imposed, it wasn’t only the festival that disappeared—it took with it an entire cottage industry. Lahore’s historic markets, Mochi Gate and Lahori Gate, once hubs for kite and string manufacturing, had to shut down. Shops that had been supplying kite-flying material for generations were forced to switch to new trades.
Shahid, a shopkeeper from Mochi gate recalls:
“All our stock had to be burned or thrown into the Ravi River. Artisans were arrested. We had no choice but to shift to sports goods. It was a very tough phase.”
Even today, traders believe reviving this industry is nearly impossible.
“Artisans have scattered. Who will make kites for a one-day festival? Earlier, the business used to run all year. Now costs will skyrocket—what was once a poor man’s hobby will become too expensive.”
A cultural legacy
Basant is a centuries old festival whose origins trace back to welcoming the spring, celebrating renewal, and marking the change of seasons. Over time it became inseparable from Punjab’s identity. Lahore, especially, held Basant like a badge of pride.
For many older residents, Basant was never about competition—it was about community. A social glue that brought neighbors, families, and entire neighborhoods together.
“Take away the dangerous competition,” Advocate Azhar Siddique suggests, “and Basant becomes harmless again. Celebrate it in parks, in open fields, in controlled spaces. There are ways to keep the tradition alive.”
Supporters argue that the country desperately needs cultural events and public entertainment, especially in difficult economic times. They insist that Basant should return—but without the deadly strings, reckless competition, and violence that once plagued it.
Opponents, however, emphasize that no festival is worth risking human lives—especially children, who often become victims.