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Decline of a cherished tradition
India's once-vibrant kite-flying culture is struggling to stay aloft. Rising temperatures, digital distractions, and a surge in fatal accidents linked to razor-sharp kite strings have driven enthusiasts indoors, threatening a centuries-old pastime.
The golden era of patangbaazi
For generations, kite-flying-known locally as patangbaazi-has been more than a hobby. It symbolized freedom, community, and resistance. During the 1928 Simon Commission protests, activists flew kites bearing the slogan "Go Back Simon" to voice dissent against British rule. The tradition also marked festivals like Uttarayan, where skies filled with colorful kites to celebrate the end of winter.
Syed Moinuddin, affectionately called Bhai Mian, became a legend in the sport. Three decades ago, he set a record by flying 1,187 kites on a single string, mesmerizing crowds. His sons, Syed Jamaluddin and Mukhtar Ahmad, inherited his passion, traveling internationally to promote kite-fighting-a competitive form where fliers use abrasive strings to cut opponents' kites mid-air.
"It's like boxing. You anticipate the opponent's moves, react with quick reflexes, and maintain perfect balance,"
Mukhtar Ahmad, kite-fighting champion
Heatwaves and digital rivals
Today, Lal Kuan's wholesale market in Old Delhi, once bustling with 20 kite shops, now has only five. Mohammad Khalid, whose family has sold kites since 1972, blames smartphones and climate change. "People prefer mobile reels over flying kites," he says. "And heatwaves force everyone indoors."
Himanshu Gupta, whose grandfather opened a shop 65 years ago, notes a brief revival during the COVID-19 pandemic, when kites offered a distraction. But sales plummeted again as digital addiction surged. Indians logged over 1.1 trillion hours of screen time in 2024, raising concerns about mental health.
The deadly cost of manjha
Kite strings coated with glass or metal-called manjha-have turned the sport lethal. In June 2025, a 22-year-old man died after a string slashed his neck while riding a scooter. Dozens of similar deaths and injuries have been reported across states, despite bans in Delhi and elsewhere.
Devender Singh, a surgeon who studied kite-string injuries, warns that the cords can sever arteries. "They're strong enough to cut through skin and veins instantly," he says. Birds have also fallen victim to stray strings.
Snehal Prakash, a scientist, suggests a simple fix: metal loops on scooters to deflect strings. "In Ahmedabad, riders use these loops, but the rest of India hasn't adopted them," he notes.
A fading legacy
For enthusiasts like Mohammad Ghayas, kite-flying is a lifelong passion. Despite his father's attempts to stop him-even "chaining" him-Ghayas won dozens of medals. Now battling kidney cancer, he flies kites to cope. "It motivates me to live longer," he says.
Jamaluddin believes kites could counter digital addiction, offering physical and mental engagement. "It teaches focus, strategy, and joy," he says. But with shops closing and fatalities rising, the future looks uncertain.
As Ghayas dusts off old kites in his basement, the question lingers: Can India's skies ever again fill with the vibrant dance of kites-or will this tradition become a relic of the past?
