Kites reclaim the Lahore sky

Rooftops of several buildings and hotels in Lahore packed with people flying kites and enjoying the festivities. Some buildings in prime locations charge upwards of US$10,000 for the three-day event. — Saiyna Bashir/The New York Times

FOR months, a relentless shroud of toxic smog weighed on Lahore, a seemingly endless grey that reduced it to one of the world’s most polluted cities.

But as winter gave way to sunnier days, the skies over the city in eastern Pakistan turned cloudless over the weekend and morphed into a glittering tapestry of kites.

Residents and visitors poured into the expansive parks, narrow streets and towe­ring rooftops for the Basant festival celebrating the return of spring.

The century-old festival, renowned for the competitive dogfights of kites flying over Mughal-era landmarks, had been banned for nearly two decades after a series of deaths and injuries caused by the glass-coated strings that cut rivals’ lines and, occasionally, the throats of unsuspec­ting commuters.

The sudden return of the festival this year came with a litany of restrictions, including limits on string material and kite dimensions, as well as a ban of political messages.

Still, it brought a brief outburst of colour­ful celebration and public elation to Pakistanis reeling from alarming levels of air pollution, growing insecurity and tighte­ning military rule.

“Kite flying is in the blood of Lahoris,” said Yousaf Salahuddin, a prominent cultural figure in Lahore who over the wee­kend welcomed hundreds of guests to his family’s haveli, a sumptuous traditional mansion.

“For a weekend,” he said, “the whole city is on Lahore’s roofs.”

Basant takes its name from the Sanskrit word for spring, Vasant, with roots stretching back centuries. Over time, the festival evolved into a secular hallmark of Punjab province, of which Lahore is the capital, celebrated by Hindus, Sikhs, Muslims and Christians alike.

Feroz Ali Butt, 15, a high school student, stood on a crowded rooftop in the old city and held the string steady with his father’s help as cheers erupted from nearby terraces.

“I grew up hearing my grandfather and other elders talk about Basant like it was a dream,” he said.

“Sometimes I felt like I was born too late.”

Home to roughly 14 million people, Lahore is a sprawling metropolis where Unesco-listed Mughal monuments and colonial-era architecture collide with _modern urban decay.

Long considered Pakistan’s cultural heart, with Basant once playing a central role in that heritage, Lahore now ranks in the top five of the world’s most polluted cities.

The kite festival has brought respite from these troubles.

“Basant brings us together,” said Meher Tareen, an entrepreneur. “Same kites, same feelings for everyone, no matter our economic status.”

Other Lahoris did not share her view. They said the prices of kites made them a luxury out of reach of the working class.

A kite can start at US$2, but a roll of string costs US$30.

“You cannot buy one kite or a pack of string with a monthly salary of around US$125 and enjoy Basant,” said Muhammad Hafeez, 44, a textile worker.

Affluent families and businesses booked rooftops of upscale hotels or other prime locations for up to US$10,000 for the three-day festival.

Maryam Nawaz Sharif, the chief minister for Punjab province, scheduled the festival to coincide with the two-year anniversary of the February 2024 national elections – officially won by her party, but still shrouded in allegations of vote rigging.

Some Lahoris questioned whether the date had been picked to preempt demonstrations for Imran Khan, the former prime minister who has been jailed since 2023 on charges of corruption that he denies. His party is widely seen as the winner of the 2024 elections.

“The government was afraid that Lahore’s residents might put Mr Khan’s photos on kites and fly them in the sky,” Munir Arain, a baker, said about the ban on political messages on kites.

As the sun set and white kites glowed in the darkening sky, celebrations swept away worries late into the night.

Noor Ul Haram, 17, snapped selfies with her siblings and cousins on a brightly lit terrace her family had rented for the festival.

“It feels so vibrant, but it’s our first time and we’re not really good at it,” Noor said.

Salahuddin, a longtime friend of Khan, said despite the politics, Basant brought Lahore back to life.

“The government has taken a lot of bold steps to bring back Basant, but it should have made it happen years ago,” he said. “You don’t stop something like Basant.” — ©2026 The New York Times Company

This article originally appeared in The New York Times