IN a tweet sent on Feb 7, Shahbaz Sharif reiterated his government’s policy of a “complete ban” on Basant in Punjab. The underlying reason was one of safety — “no one can be allowed to play with the lives of people”. Its implementation was left to district police chiefs who were warned of personal liability in case of any transgressions.

The statement puts to rest months of speculation concerning a regulated revival of the festival. In mid-October last year, the government created a committee consisting of several bureaucrats, Lahore-based politicians, and the heads of kite-flying and kite-making associations. Their final recommendations included a 24-hour festival, with a complete ban on unlicensed string retailers, restrictions on kite size, and the demarcation of designated areas for kite-flying. Ultimately, none of these were deemed sufficient.

The ban is now in its eleventh year. Its roots lie between 2005 and 2007, when the Supreme Court ruled on a public interest petition and banned kite-flying due to loss of life and damage to Wapda’s distribution system. The then PML-Q government sought a compromise by allowing a limited celebration in 2007, however, that too ended abruptly following the death of an estimated 11 individuals.

The public is a lot more amenable to the festival now than it has ever been in the past decade.

From what I could gather from court documents and newspaper reports, the early and mid-2000s saw at least 35 people killed due to Basant-related activities. Some of these were due to chemical- and glass-coated string cuts, while others were due to aerial firing and road and rooftop accidents. Relatives of those injured or killed were active in highlighting the threat posed to public safety, and several prominent Lahore-based welfare organisations held protests on their behalf to seek justice from the provincial government.

While it’s hard to assert public opinion in the absence of survey data, I remember there was an unprecedented sense of ambiguity around the festival at that time. Part of it was rooted, as always, in the tiresome argument against a ‘pagan’ activity. Part of it was around wasteful expenditure, which seemed surreal coming from residents of a city known mostly for its crass consumerism. But most of all, there was also a genuine sense of fear and concern for the safety of others.

However, a decade is a long time in the public imagination. Events of the past two years have reduced the salience of right-wingers in certain kinds of cultural arguments. Lahoris have escalated to new levels of copious consumption of food and entertainment. Finally, the massive uptick in terrorist violence and the subsequent sharp decline in its numbers at least in Punjab make the deaths caused by kite-flying seem very distant. The public is a lot more amenable to the festival now than it has ever been in the past decade.

They’re not alone on this front. Everyone who otherwise matters in Lahore’s politics – the business community, local elected politicians (such as the provincial minister for education), retired-bureaucrat-turned-patriarch-of-culture, well-connected socialites, and (reportedly) even the son of the chief minister — have spoken in favour of a revival. Yet we see the ban persist.

At a policy level, it seems the ban is an intrinsic preference of the chief minister. He sees it as a central component of protecting lives and property in the city. It’s also relatively easy to understand why this strongly held position is around. A tightly regulated festival in a city of 10 million people is an oxymoron. People will likely take liberties with regard to kite size and the type of string they use, and there will always be some risk to life and public property.

The festival now comes with a potential political cost as well. Even one death resulting from Basant is rightly or wrongly on the government’s hands, and there is an opposition party waiting to capitalise on any slip-ups by the incumbent in its hometown. Given we have less than two years left till a general election, an administrative failure that results in heightened media attention is a risky proposition.

Nonetheless, this is the part where analysis parts ways with advocacy on behalf of my city. Basant defines Lahore like few other activities. It was for the longest time the most eagerly anticipated event of the year. It drew in tourists, generated revenue for all kinds of associated businesses, and contributed to a general uplift in the public mood. It was also the only cultural activity that transcended class boundaries in a city that otherwise segregates all manner of entertainment by the ability to pay.

This government of Punjab takes immense pride in its status as the most efficient provincial administration in the country. The executors of ‘Punjab-speed’ have won praise from both the domestic electorate, and international partners such as Turkey and China. At this point, the PML-N is poised to win re-election and is still more popular than you would expect an eight-year-long incumbent to be.

Given all the public pride exhibited in their ability to administer and govern, I have a fairly simple proposition for the chief minister and his team: take up the idea of a safe, well-regulated festival as a challenge. Open up the safe Basant committee for more recommendations, publicly run through different scenarios with the police and the district administration, and solicit ideas for safety from the general public. Create civic ownership of the festival and let the people of Lahore play their part in ensuring a well-regulated festival. For the past decade, everyone who has come of age in Lahore has done so without experiencing one of the few great things about their hometown. I think it’s time for the government to think creatively and find a way to give Basant back to the people.

The writer is a freelance columnist.

umairjaved@lumsalumni.pk

Twitter: @umairjav

Published in Dawn, February 13th, 2017