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YOU wouldn't think that a public festival in
Lahore goes by the name Basant. A Hindu name for a public holiday
in Pakistan? One which falls on more or less the same day as
Basant Panchami in India? Yes it is. Basant is one of the biggest
festivals on the Lahori's calendar; a mammoth social occasion that
does not revolve around a religious ritual but around putting
thousands of kites into the sky. The sight of a whole city caught
up in a "Basant" frenzy startles an Indian ignorant of customs and
traditions in Pakistan.
Ahmedabad has its kite flying ritual in January
on Makar Shankranthi. Other Indian cities and states too
have their annual seasons, if not particular days, in which
kite-flying is a big event. But none is likely to match the scale
and fervour of Lahore on Basant day.
Like in North India, Basant in Pakistan's
Punjab is a spring festival. It heralds both the approach of the
harvest and the end of winter. This year the festival was
celebrated on February 17, but Lahore began its party the night
before in the walled city. The real celebrations took place the
next day. The Lahoris' involvement in Basant is like our
involvement in Deepavali. The big difference is that in
Lahore's Basant, kites replace crackers. From the morning onwards,
the roofs of Lahore were full of young and old keeping their kites
afloat. By early afternoon, the sky was peppered with kites of
different colours. They come in different sizes as well — some
have to be transported on the roofs of cars, others are small
enough to be carried on bicycles. Yellow is the predominant
colour. "This is the colour of the mustard ripening in the field,"
says a gracious Lahori host, as he drapes a yellow dupatta
on the shoulders of each visitor. The fun of Basant does not
preclude the intense competition that is a uniquely south Asian
phenomenon — cutting each other's kite lines. Like in India,
manja is used to give that "cutting edge" to the twine and
each time a kite's life-line is severed, a cheer, "Bo-Kata",
(loosely translated as "a kite cut off") is sent up by the victor.
The beauty of Lahore's Basant is that every one — rich and poor —
can enjoy it since all that is required is a kite and a ball of
string. The wealthy Lahoris may have their huge kites with
intricate patterns, but in the end a kite is, well, a kite. By
evening, the overhead wires are dotted with kites which have been
trapped during their flights. So many are sent up that in certain
areas the regulators have to suspend power supply to save on
possible short-circuiting of the electricity lines. But tragic
accidents do happen, like this year when the papers reported that
six people died, either because they fell from the rooftops or
died from electrocution.
"We in Lahore have over the years taken to
Basant and kite-flying," said an elderly Lahori, "while for some
reason Amritsar has given it up," referring to the rather lukewarm
celebration of Basant in our Punjab. Lahore's Basant is such a
social event that it attracts people from the rest of Punjab even
from as far as Karachi. The popularity of this Lahori festival has
grown so much that other cities in Pakistan too have started to
organise their own versions, "copy-cat" Basants as a parochial
Lahori will tell you.
For the wealthier Lahori, Basant is not just
about flying kites. It is also a time to get together, to host
family and friends and to celebrate with a lavish meal. The
growing popularity of Basant has naturally meant the entry of
corporate hospitality. Companies host their guests on Basant even
by "renting" roof-tops in the walled city at exorbitant rates for
just the evening. The inevitable question on the mind of a visitor
from India is how have the Lahoris taken to an event whose name
suggests that it is a Hindu festival, even if there are no
religious rituals to accompany it. The answers you hear are
interesting. Some see the public embrace of a secular Basant as a
way of striking back at the fundamentalists who want to constrain
their lives. Some say that during the Zia years of the 1980s there
was a stifling of celebrations as it was labelled "a Hindu"
festival. Even later, Nawaz Sharif, who was beholden to the
religious right, was less than open about his visiting social
events on Basant. The near frenetic celebrations of Basant today
are seen as a reaction to past controls. And yet others perhaps
rightly tell a visitor from India that Basant does not belong to
the Hindus or the Muslims. "It is a festival of Punjab. You in
India may not be too excited by Basant. But for us in Lahore it
has become a passion." The extremists among the mullahs
have not given up. Every now and then they still raise their
voices about this "Hindu" in recent years. This year there was
even a suit filed in court seeking a restraint of public
celebrations! Fortunately, the petition was allowed to collect
dust. For now, Basant has taken root across the border.
Article taken (with Thanks) from The Hindu |
