As the winter winds up, what one misses is the festival of Basant. For thousands of years, this region celebrated the advent of spring with the festival of Basant. Many rituals were associated with the pleasant change of season, the most prominent being kite flying. Of all the cities in the northern part of the subcontinent, Lahore became really famous for kite flying. The other city or town that was equally famous was Kasur where Basant was celebrated a week later than the one in Lahore.

Later, Basant started being celebrated in all cities of the Punjab with equal vigour. Now it is celebrated in all parts of the country and even beyond as Khalid Hussaini’s famous novel set in Kabul, The Kite Runner, signifies.

Kites came in all sizes, forms and colours and the flying had a competitive edge to it since it was the pecha that mattered the most. It resulted in the cutting of one kite with an attendant cry of joy and victory ‘bo kata.’ In those early days, it was accompanied with the beating of the drum or any other surface or vessel like used canisters and buckets. This was later succeeded by the playing of film songs and their sounds being amplified by the loud speakers. It all became possible with the battery-powered transistors and tape recorders being portable. Linked to the season, it demonstrated the love of the land, its changing hues and its varying shades and smells.

Unfortunately the festival was killed by the puritanical streak that tied it with the ritual practices associated with it. It was reinforced by the concerns for security of the people of the city due to the use of a new plastic string that caused injuries and even deaths. Revelers also used rounds of live ammunition, even automatic weapons, to seal their triumph.

In the 1980s people started celebrating night Basant. The real activity took place after sunset on the Basant eve amidst floodlights and lasted till dawn. The day became a secondary tail off.

The city of Lahore would wake up to the cries of ‘bo kata’ as the sun dawned on Basant, which was the fifth of Magha. Later the schedule was, in a way, modified to be in the first week or the first Sunday/ Friday of the month of February. When one was a child, it was extremely difficult to wrench away to school on Basant because the real excitement was in flying and then looting the kites as they floated down. On returning from school, the eagerness to catch up with what one had missed in the few remaining hours and make the most of it meant sacrificing lunch, or it being taken in snatches on rooftop much to the mother’s displeasure. Yes, the real excitement of the day, kite flying and looting, with the fingers being cut, bleeding and sore attracted further reprimand. In the end, a lantern or the burj that was flown to announce the end of the festivities. It was an exalted end tinged with sadness.

All that changed in the 1980s as people started to celebrate night Basant. The real activity took place after sunset on the Basant eve amidst floodlights and it lasted till dawn. The day became a secondary tail off as the sleepless kite fliers forcibly got up in the afternoon to make up for the few hours that remained of the sunlight. This innovation of night Basant in a way subverted the true spirit of the festival.

During the last decade of the 20th Century and Musharraf era, corporatisation of Basant attracted multinational businesses to get involved in booking rooftops in the Walled City and arranging lavish parties during the night. Tons of people were either flown in or driven from across the country and even beyond to partake of the revelries. People in many parts of the world talked about setting aside the day in their cultural calendar. All types of hotels were overbooked and charged extra for petty favours.

Alas, all this was forcibly stopped and now kite-flying is in defiance of the law. The kites and the strings are not openly available. One has to sneak kites and strings to celebrate on the sly. It appears that other cities, towns and villages still have some freedom as Lahore is the most watched and regulated city.

The Walled City was the real hub of the celebration and because of the density of population and houses being crushed together one could barely see the sky. It was all a wavy sea of colour as the kites miraculously managed to find their float and gliding poise against the vast firmament.

The writer is a culture critic based in Lahore