Excitement sweeps Pakistani city of Lahore as Basant festival returns after two decades

Music blares everywhere.. Packed bazaars. Fresh wall paintings. Giant kite installations rising as street decor. And families busy cleaning their rooftops. Take a stroll down the roads of the Pakistani city of Lahore, and you’d be left wondering why motorcycles have metal rods protruding from the handlebars and rising several feet into the sky. 

Pakistan’s cultural capital is beaming with excitement as it celebrates Basant, Lahore’s iconic kite-flying festival that marks the arrival of the spring season. The festival is making a comeback this weekend after an 18-year pause. 

Basant was banned in 2007 over safety concerns,  following the death of dozens of people who lost their lives because of kite strings. 

Now, following years of public pressure, the festival is back with a bang.

And Lahore is already exploding with joy. 

Tens of thousands of people have flocked to the markets in recent days to buy kites, strings and other gear as they prepare to set the sky over Lahore ablaze with colourful tapestry. 

Tens of thousands of kites are expected to soar and swoop in what locals often describe not as a pastime, but a full-contact aerial sport.

The craze and the restriction 

The spectacle of Basant marks the arrival of spring and is rooted deeply in Punjabi culture, with Lahore long considered its spiritual home. It is celebrated across Pakistan, northern India, and in diaspora communities worldwide.

Kite flying is the central ritual. Families decorate rooftops, gather for day-long feasts, and engage in competitive kite battles, trying to cut rivals’ lines using strings. The moment a rival kite is severed, the victor’s rooftop erupts in cheers. Kite flying even has its own lingo. 

But the string used in kite battles, known locally as manjha, has historically been coated with glass powder, metal dust, or chemical abrasives to increase its cutting power. While effective in aerial combat, it has proved deadly for the people on the streets. In the past, people have been killed by the nearly invisible string when a kite gets adrift, or it comes crashing down to the ground. 

Traffic snarls, packed rooftops, and hundreds of kite lines criss-crossing roads turned Basant into a public safety nightmare in the past, particularly for motorcyclists, some of whom suffered fatal throat injuries after hitting stray strings at speed.

This is what led the government to ban Basant and kite flying almost 20 years ago, while many Lahoris argued the city lost a major part of its cultural heritage.

Nostalgia at its peak

“Basant in Lahore and Basant anywhere else are miles apart,” Omer Ahmed, 38, a computer engineer who lives in Lahore tells TRT World. “They say Lahore Lahore hai (Lahore is Lahore) for a reason. The food, the music, the atmosphere, it’s second to none. Seeing it come back now feels nostalgic, like a piece of the city’s soul returning.”

Extended family gatherings define the festival. It is loud, visual, communal and nostalgic, for most. 

The city itself is a riot of colour. Yellow dominates, traditionally worn as shirts, dupattas, or full dresses, while pinks, purples, and greens streak rooftops in banners, flags, and fluttering fabrics. Bright clothing, flowing scarves, and decorated terraces turn every rooftop into a stage for celebration, even before a single kite takes to the sky.

But in Lahore, kite flying has never been just a leisure.

“Kite flying here isn’t just fun, it’s a war in the sky,” says Saleem Rizwan, a 34-year-old kite enthusiast born in the city. “We risk a lot, but the thrill is unmatched.”

The controlled comeback

This time, Basant’s comeback comes wrapped in heaps of rules and regulations.

Kite flying is permitted only on February 6, 7 and 8, and only within Lahore city limits. All other dates and locations remain strictly off-limits.

Authorities have banned the manufacture, sale, use or display of metallic, glass-coated, chemical, nylon or otherwise hazardous kite strings. Only government-approved plain cotton strings are legal.

Manufacturers and vendors must be digitally registered, with kites and strings carrying QR codes to track legal supply chains. The sale of kites and accessories is restricted to February 1–8, with unregistered vendors facing confiscation and legal action.

Safety measures are mandatory: motorcycle safety rods, rooftop precautions, and strict enforcement of conduct. Children under 18 are prohibited from flying kites, with parents held responsible for violations.

“There’s definitely more confidence this time,” Ahmed says. “A bit of caution, but mostly joy. After so many years, people just want to celebrate openly.”

For Yasal Munim, a media professional who recently moved to Lahore, Basant’s return feels like reopening a chapter frozen in time.

Though she didn’t grow up celebrating Basant in Lahore every year, she remembers travelling from Rawalpindi with her family. “I remember the feasts, BBQ parties, dancing all night, a sky full of kites,” she tells TRT World. “I remember crying over my lost kite and running on the roads trying to find it and never being able to.”

Some memories are tactile. “The beautiful pink and purple kites. And the bandaids on my fingers,” she laughs. “My brother and I used to compete over who had more bandaids.”

A celebration with sharp edges

Munim appreciates the state’s cautious approach but remains skeptical. “There’s an entire generation that’s never celebrated Basant,” she says. “Kids are excited but don’t even know how to fly kites.”

Enforcement will be the real test. 

“Chemical threads are still being sold in some places. Many motorcyclists still don’t have safety rods. It’s very hard to monitor people at this scale.”

After all, Lahore is a city of over 15 million.

Improvised bike rods and last minute preps

Kiran Butt, 33, a journalist, travelled from Islamabad to Lahore a week early just to prepare for Basant.

She feels the rules have restored confidence. “People know nobody is going to arrest them,” she says. “They’re cooperating. Bikes are protected.”

Lahoris are getting creative with their improvised protection gear, mounting anything from steel rods to tree branches to their bike frames.

“The funniest one I’ve seen is someone using a shower head as bike protection,” she says. “But honestly, most locals have installed proper gear.”

But celebrating Basant this year does not come cheap.

Butt’s family spent around Rs50,000 ($178) on kite supplies alone, with a rooftop in Lahore’s Walled City booked for Rs150,000 ($536).

Rooftops across Lahore’s historic inner city have become hot property, with many spaces booked well in advance and commanding very high rates. In the Walled City, rooftop rentals for the three‑day festival are reported to range from around Rs 500,000 ($1,784)  up to Rs 2.5 million ($8,922) or more, with some prime spots fetching Rs 3 million ($10,706) or higher for just a few days of celebrations. 

“People are renting out their rooftops at exorbitant prices. There are memes about removing solar panels just for these two days,” Munim says.

“There’s even a shortage of coal for rooftop BBQs.” 

This year, the excitement spans generations. “From millennials to Gen Z to even Gen Alpha, everyone’s excited,” she says, noting that her 12-year-old nephew is learning kite flying on YouTube.

Of kite madness, costly rooftops, and Gen-Z’s first Basant

For freelance IT worker Mohammad Abdullah Zaheer, 20, Basant is not nostalgia, it’s discovery.

He has launched a temporary, home-based kite shop from the back streets of Shalimar Gardens, a Mughal era garden,  for the festival, alongside building his website, basantkites.com. This is his first Basant.

“I’d only heard stories about it,” he says during a quick call with TRT World. “This is the first time I’m actually seeing what it’s like.”

Demand, he says, has been overwhelming. “Lahore is out of kites,” Zaheer says. His shop had 10,000 pending orders just a day before Basant. Buyers, he adds, are now sourcing supplies from other cities.

As we speak, his phone keeps ringing. “In the 10 minutes I’ve been talking to you, I’ve already gotten five customer calls,” he laughs.

But the revival hasn’t been affordable for everyone.

“Prices are way too high. Kites can range from anywhere between Rs350 to hundreds of thousands,” Zaheer says. “The common man can’t afford kites and rooftops at these rates. I’ve had customers who couldn’t buy properly for their children because the threads and kites are so expensive.”

Ahmad believes government support is essential. “There should be some facilitation so ordinary people can take part.”

Zaheer plans to celebrate with friends and family on a rented rooftop in Gawalmandi, one of Lahore’s historic kite-flying neighbourhoods.