RAJ DALUJA
JAMMU: There was a time when the skies of Jammu and many parts of northern India danced with colourful kites, and the very act of flying them was a celebration – not just for children, but for people of all ages. From the youngest in the house to the elderly, everyone once found joy in the simple pleasure of kite flying, especially during festivals like Raksha Bandhan and Janmashtami.
DOWN THE MEMORY LANE
In states like Delhi and Punjab, kite flying still sees flashes of enthusiasm during specific festivals, but the once-vibrant tradition is steadily fading. Here in Jammu, the decline is more evident – and more painful for those who grew up with memories of paper birds soar high and the echo of “Chal gayeeeee Aaaaaa!” ringing across neighbourhood rooftops.
In Jammu, kite flying is traditionally celebrated on Raksha Bandhan and Janmashtami. In Punjab and Haryana it is enjoyed during Vasant Panchami and Lohri in Delhi on 15th of August, while in Ahmedabad, a grand kite festival named International Kite Flying Festival is held every year from January 11 to January 14, attracting participants from 132 countries.
In earlier decades, the preparations for kite flying would begin as early as four to five months before the actual festival. Children and youngsters would begin practising, sharpening their skills, and stocking up on kites and manja (glass-coated thread). During the 1980s and 90s, thread makers from Bareilly and Amritsar would arrive in Jammu around May and June to prepare special manja rolls, using powdered glass to give them an edge in kite-cutting competitions.
Among them, Laalli and Shivo emerged as legendary figures at Rani Talab in Jammu. Their threads were considered so elite that having a manja rolls made by either of them was a status symbol in Jammu. Their manja was fierce in flight yet beautifully crafted – a perfect blend of strength and artistry.
In those golden days, Jagdish “Guddi Wala”also known as Dishu from Pacca Danga was a household name. His kites – known for their perfect balance and intricate designs name Tarbooz, Ankhedar, Dobaaz. Chopar, Ankhedar, Bhoot etc- were considered among the finest in the region. Kite shops dotted every street corner, with endless choices of sizes, colours, and shapes. Though the kites were available in every nook and corner of town Pacca Danga and Purani Mandi was hub of kites of different designs. People from Punjab and other parts of country used to bring their kites for sale in Jammu.
Some children even innovated with tools – tying bushes atop bamboo sticks to snatch drifting kites from the sky. Others simply sprinted across rooftops and lanes, chasing their airborne treasures. It wasn’t just a game – it was a festival of spirit, shared across generations.
Sadly, much of that vibrant culture has now disappeared.
The introduction of “Gattuu Dor” – synthetic, chemically-coated threads – has played a major role in this decline. These threads, often imported and mass-produced, are not only dangerously sharp (frequently causing injuries to birds and even humans) but have also destroyed the traditional skill-based art of kite flying. Unlike the earlier method of skill fully pulling the thread (kheech) and cutting the opponent’s kite with strategy, today’s flying has become a mere battle of materials.
The elderly, who once found joy in the slow, deliberate thrill of flying and competing, now mostly watch from the sidelines or avoid participation altogether. The heart and soul of kite flying – the artistry, the patience, the neighbourhood camaraderie – is steadily being replaced by plastic threads and reckless speed.
There was a time when entire families gathered on rooftops, loudspeakers blaring their favourite music, snacks being shared, and every successful kite cut announced with the triumphant cry: “Ooooo gayeee Aaaa!” It was a community affair – bonding, laughter, and joy stitched into the sky.
Some passionate individuals even made their own manja at home, using glass powder (paws) and fish glue (machhli ki shesh), treating it like a sacred tradition passed down the generations. But today, such efforts are rare, and often discouraged due to the rising safety concerns.
Despite growing concern, Gattuu Dor continues to circulate in Jammu. While police conduct occasional seizures, and awareness drives are launched, enforcement remains inconsistent. Often, the banned threads find their way into homes through back channels – even reaching the homes of senior officials, courtesy of persistent children and eager shopkeepers.
Many citizens are urging the authorities to take stricter action – not just by banning the thread but by reviving safe and traditional kite flying practices. Schools and community centres could play a vital role in educating children about the cultural significance of this disappearing art.
As the sky grows quieter each year, and the echoes of childhood thrill fade away, it’s time to ask: can we bring back the joy of kite flying – not just as a pastime, but as a cherished tradition that once united generations under the same sky?
