The Dalda Tin and the Scent of Glue: When Basant Was an Obsession!
There was a time when, long before February arrived, the rooftops of Punjab would begin to pulse with life. It wasn't the calendar dates, but the shifting direction of the wind that announced Basant was near. Today, those festivities might feel like stories from a bygone era, but if I close my eyes, I can still see the courtyards where charpoys (traditional beds) were stood upright in every other house.
The Alchemy of Making 'Manjha'
The preparations began with a stolen empty tin of Dalda ghee from the kitchen. Placed over a coal stove, Suresh (animal glue) was melted inside it. That pungent, sharp smell still lingers in my memory—it was the scent of a summer afternoon spent in anticipation. Once the glue became thick and tacky, a mixture of finely crushed glass (often made by pounding old soda bottles) and vibrant dyes was added with master precision. This wasn't just a mixture; it was a 'secret weapon' that would decide whose reel would run empty and who would emerge as the king of the skies.
The Battle of Brands and Our 'Status'
In those days, thread brands were our entire universe. Do you remember? When a spool of Maa Beta or Pari Marka cost less than a single rupee. That was the limit of our pocket money and our status, so we relied on them for everyday flying. But the heart always longed for the 'big leagues.'
The Pankha and Phool brands, which cost four rupees, or the legendary Single, which was a whopping seven rupees, felt like ultimate luxuries. And then there was Panda... the undisputed king of threads. It cost ten rupees, which felt like a fortune back then. But in the madness of Basant, when our pockets fell short, we would often stage a silent raid on Ammi’s purse. Coming home from the shop with a 'Single' or 'Panda' bought with that 'stolen' treasure made us feel invincible—as if no kite in the world could dare cut our string that day!
The Ritual of Threading
Then began the process of Dore Lagana (coating the thread). Fingers were carefully wrapped in bandages and tape to prevent the razor-sharp glass-coated string from slicing through skin. The raw thread would pass through that hot, colorful 'Manjha' and be looped around the legs of upright charpoys to dry. We kids would watch from a distance, waiting for the moment it would dry so we could wind it onto the wooden Charkhri (reel).
The Dance of Colors and the Raw Punjabi Roar
Finally, the big day would arrive. With the first light of dawn, the skies of Lahore and across Punjab would erupt with the sound of loud music and human roars. Kites of every color—yellow, saffron, and white—danced in the air. This wasn't just kite flying; it was a war of nerves, where a specific language was spoken from every rooftop.
If a stranger or a neighbor flew too close to your kite, the warning would roar out: "Oye, apna gudda side te kar!" (Hey, move your kite aside!). And if someone tried to cheat by grabbing the string with their hands, they’d hear: "Oye gaati na maar!" (Don't cheat, fight fair!).
When the kites finally locked in a 'Pecha' (duel), pulses would stop. Advice was screamed from all sides: "Dheel de, dheel de!" (Give it slack!) or "Ab khich maar... Chup kadd lay!" (Now pull... pull it all in!). And the moment the opponent’s kite was severed and began its lonely drift downward, the entire neighborhood would explode in one synchronized shout: "AAYEE BOOOOO!"
Between duels, you’d hear people shouting to the next roof: "Oye, hawa kidher ae?" (Hey, where is the wind blowing?) because the wind decided who would reach the heights and whose string would end up tangled in the street.
The Thread of Memories
Today, the glass-coated thread is gone, the scent of the glue has faded, and the fearless laughter has silenced. The rooftops are quiet, and all that remains are the tangled threads of memories that refuse to be unraveled. You might still find an old Dalda tin in a junk shop, but that innocent obsession of 'robbing' Ammi’s purse to buy a spool of Panda, and the echoing roar of "Aayee Bo," is nowhere to be found.
%20Instagram.png)
0 Comments