Up in the air: As cityscape rises, kite makers see profits plummet
Most of the kite lovers head to Phase VIII in DHA because of its open space.
KARACHI:
Whenever an apartment building is raised someone gets a home. But in some other obscure part of the city, someone loses his livelihood. This is how the kite lovers see the circle of civic life.
They were once found in every nook and corner of the city, but now it is difficult to find kite makers or people who like flying them. The sight of the evening sky dotted with colourful kites is becoming rarer as open grounds and spaces vanish.
“There are more buildings now and that many flyovers. Even the roads are wider,” said Muhammad Zahirullah, 62, who spends his weekends flying kites at the vast empty land in DHA’s Phase VIII. “With so many cars on the road, you can’t run after the kite.”
Wherever there are kites, there are also kite runners - young men who chase after the fallen paper toys whose strings are cut by a more successful kite. The string is coated with crushed glass to make them sharp enough to be able to cut an opponent down.
Muhammad Saleem, who has been selling kites for 12 years, blames ‘inflation’ for killing business as well. He is the only surviving wholesaler for kites and strings in the area. “There used to be over a dozen shops here and now I am the only one.”
He recalled a time when he used to sell a kite for one rupee. “The one that used to cost Rs5 is now selling for Rs20,” he said. “The string, which is bought in metres, adds to the cost even more.”
Saleem’s shop is still in the narrow lane of Khori Garden, which is still known as Patang Gali (The kite street). It is now occupied by scrap and betel nut dealers. The lane is filled with men chewing paan and wearing shirts with paan stains on them, with bags full of betel nuts slung over their backs.
Sirajuddin spent his teenage years fighting over kites in Ahsanabad. Like Zahirullah, he frequently goes to Phase VIII. “I don’t have to worry about losing my kites here,” he said. “Losing a bag of string is even more upsetting. There is a boy standing right over there to retrieve what I lose,” he pointed to a hired kite runner.
The price of a good kite has jumped from Rs10 to Rs50 over the decade, said Sirajuddin.
Talking about kite-flying competitions, he said that they involve both mental and physical strength. “You need to have strong arms. Pulling the string is not easy. We also need to keep in mind what direction the wind flows in.”
Published in The Express Tribune, March 1st, 2012.
Whenever an apartment building is raised someone gets a home. But in some other obscure part of the city, someone loses his livelihood. This is how the kite lovers see the circle of civic life.
They were once found in every nook and corner of the city, but now it is difficult to find kite makers or people who like flying them. The sight of the evening sky dotted with colourful kites is becoming rarer as open grounds and spaces vanish.
“There are more buildings now and that many flyovers. Even the roads are wider,” said Muhammad Zahirullah, 62, who spends his weekends flying kites at the vast empty land in DHA’s Phase VIII. “With so many cars on the road, you can’t run after the kite.”
Wherever there are kites, there are also kite runners - young men who chase after the fallen paper toys whose strings are cut by a more successful kite. The string is coated with crushed glass to make them sharp enough to be able to cut an opponent down.
Muhammad Saleem, who has been selling kites for 12 years, blames ‘inflation’ for killing business as well. He is the only surviving wholesaler for kites and strings in the area. “There used to be over a dozen shops here and now I am the only one.”
He recalled a time when he used to sell a kite for one rupee. “The one that used to cost Rs5 is now selling for Rs20,” he said. “The string, which is bought in metres, adds to the cost even more.”
Saleem’s shop is still in the narrow lane of Khori Garden, which is still known as Patang Gali (The kite street). It is now occupied by scrap and betel nut dealers. The lane is filled with men chewing paan and wearing shirts with paan stains on them, with bags full of betel nuts slung over their backs.
Sirajuddin spent his teenage years fighting over kites in Ahsanabad. Like Zahirullah, he frequently goes to Phase VIII. “I don’t have to worry about losing my kites here,” he said. “Losing a bag of string is even more upsetting. There is a boy standing right over there to retrieve what I lose,” he pointed to a hired kite runner.
The price of a good kite has jumped from Rs10 to Rs50 over the decade, said Sirajuddin.
Talking about kite-flying competitions, he said that they involve both mental and physical strength. “You need to have strong arms. Pulling the string is not easy. We also need to keep in mind what direction the wind flows in.”
Aftab Ahmed, who comes to Phase VIII from Lalukhet, thought that media campaigns which highlight the dangers of the sport are to blame for the diminishing enthusiasm about the sport. “There is no denying that it can be dangerous on the streets. The razor-sharp string can slit the throat easily,” he said. “But the Karachi administration never put a ban on kite flying. I am amazed at how the game is dying slowly.” Another kite lover, Muhammad Saeed, said that maybe in a year or so, people like him will have to find another place. “DHA is developing this place fast,” he said. “This place will soon be out of our reach. I guess we will have to move on to the outskirts of the city, beyond Sohrab Goth.”
Published in The Express Tribune, March 1st, 2012.