Patna’s kite makers: caught in a crosswind

“Patna used to host week-long tilangi [kite] competitions. Kite-flyers from Lucknow, Delhi and Hyderabad were invited. It was a festival,” says Syed Faizan Raza. He is speaking as we walk along the Ganga, the expanse of water reflecting the open skies where he says thousands of kites were once at play.

An old-timer from Doolighat which lies on on the banks of the river in Patna, Raza says from aristocrats to tawaifs, people from all social classes patronised the sport. He reels of names – “Bismillah Jan [tawaif] used to provide patronage, and Mir Ali Zamin and Mir Kefayat Ali were some of the well acclaimed ustads [masters] of patang-saazi [making kites] and patang-baazi [the sport of flying kites].” 

To supply the sport, the area between Patna’s Gurhatta and Khwajakalan at Ashok Rajpath (a distance of around 700-800 metres) was once filled with kite traders, their colourful wares fluttering invitingly outside shops. “The thread for kites in Patna were thicker than the usual threads, and a mix of cotton and silk, popularly known as nakh,” he adds Raza.

An 1868 copy of Ballou’s Monthly Magazine mentions Patna as being famous for kites. “Anybody desirous of making his fortune quickly should naturalize the Patna kite in this land. Every tenth shop in the bazaars is a kite shop, and you would think that the whole population fly kites. The kite is diamond shaped, light as a feather, has no tail and is flown with the lightest possible silk cord.”

More than a hundred years later, many things have changed, but Patna’s tilangis retain their unusual feature – they are kites without tails. “Dum to kutte ka na hota hai ji, tilangi ka thode [tails are for dogs not for kites],” says kite craftsperson Shabina, laughing. In her seventies, she stopped making tilangis some time ago when her eyes grew weak.

Patna continues to be a hub of kite-making and supplies – kites and related materials go from here to all over Bihar and to neighbouring states as well. Both paretis and tilangis travel to Siliguri, Kolkata, Malda, Ranchi, Hazaribagh Jaunpur, Kathmandu, Unnao, Jhansi, Bhopal and even Pune and Nagpur.

“Tilangi banane ke liye bhi time chahiye aur udane ke liye bhi [You need time to both make and fly kites],” says Ashok Sharma, quoting his late father. “Today, time is the rarest of the rare things in this city.”

Sharma is a third generation tilangi (kite) maker and seller. His century-old shop with its mud walls and mud roof tiles lies in the heart of Patna city, 100 metres from Bihar’s oldest church – Padri ki Haweli at Ashok Rajpath. He is also one of the few masters of making paretis (bamboo reels that hold the string attached to the kites). The manjha or nakh – thread for kites are now Chinese and factory-made, and thinner and lighter than earlier.

Seated in the front, Sharmaji’s his hands are busy as he is rushing to finish an order from a village for 150 paretis that must be delivered in an hour.

Making paretis – bending and tying the stiff wooden sticks – is a skill quite different from making kites, and one that few can do, and Sharma is well known for his expertise. Unlike some of the other tilangi craftspersons, he does not subcontract the making of the kites or reels, preferring to sell what he makes.

The small room filled with tilangis and paretis is in darkness, the only light coming from a small opening at the back where his 30-year-old grandson Kautilya Kumar Sharma is working on accounts. Although the craft has been in the family for many generations, Sharma says his sons and grandsons are unlikely to continue making it.

He was a child of 12 when he started learning to craft tilangis and paretis. “Dukaan pe aa kar baeth gaye, phir kaesa bachpan kaesi jawani? Sab yahin beet gaya. tilangi banayi bahut magar udayi nahin [I started working on the shop floor as a child and my youth also passed by doing this work. I made many tilangis but never got to fly them] says the veteran maker of kites.   

“Kite-making was supervised by the nobles and aristocrats of the city. Their patronage was a boon for kite-makers,” says Ashok Sharma. “The kite-season in Patna used to remain at its peak until Mahashivratri. But these days it’s difficult to find a customer on Sankranti [harvest festival when kites are traditionally flown].”

A tilangi is shaped like a rhombus or a diamond. Decades ago, it was made with paper, but now all production has completely shifted to plastic, and the price has dropped to half. Paper tilangis tear more easily and are more expensive to make as paper is harder to handle. A basic paper kite sells for Rs. 5 while a plastic one is priced at Rs. 3.

Sizes vary from the regular 12 x12 and 10 x 10-inch ones, but 18 x 18 and 20 x 20 are also made. Prices start rising as sizes increase and designs get complex – specific cartoons or movie characters or dialogues raises the price to upto Rs. 25, but for orders outside the state, prices can go as high as Rs. 80 to 100 rupees with specially designed sheets and even the quality of teelis and khaddas improving, as also lei (glue made with cooked rice).

At Sanjay Jaiswal’s tilangi workshop, a wood-cutting machine, multiple bamboo sticks, and other material that goes into making a tilangi, are scattered around the 8 square feet room with no windows.

“We don’t have a name for this workshop,” says Sanjay who goes by the name Mannan. It’s not a problem that bothers him as he’s probably the largest supplier of of kites in the city. “Be-nam hai, Gumnam thode hai [we are unnamed not unknown],” he says laughing along with his workers who are all around him.

Located in the Gurhatta area of Mohalla Deewan, Mannan’s workshop is primarily an open area with a shed of asbestos supported by bamboo poles, and a small room adjacent to the open space. He employs around 11 workers and also subcontracts some of the jobs to women “who work from their home as per the requirements.”

At 55 years, Mohammad Shamim is the senior-most craftsman here. From the Chhoti Bazaar area in Patna, he says he learnt the art of kite-making from an ustad (master) in Kolkata. He has worked in Kolkata, Allahabad, Mumbai and Banaras and returned to his city in search of a permanent workspace.

Pasting teelis as he speaks, he says he has been here for the last 22 years. He is considered an expert at bending the stiff bamboo sticks and pasting them on with glue. Shamim manages to make around 1,500 pieces in a day, but it’s a race.

“Koshish hota hai ke din ka 200 rupya tak kama lein to maheene ka 6000 ban jaayega. [the aim is to make 200 rupees a day which works out to 6,000 rupees a month],” says Shamim. For 1,500 kites, he pastes the teeli and then secures it with tape by evening. “Is hisaab se 200-210 rupya ban jaata hai [In this way I can earn 200-210 a day],” he adds. 

When PARI visited in May this year, outside temperatures were already above 40 degrees Celsius. But fans were ruled out given the fine plastic sheets used to make kites need to be held down.

Sunil Kumar Mishra who is cutting the plastic into small squares, wipes off the sweat with a handkerchief. “You can’t take care of a family with what you earn by making kites. None of the workers here are making more than 10,000 [rupees] a month,” he tells us.

A resident of Hajiganj mohalla, he grew up watching kites being crafted as the area was once the centre of the city’s kite-making community. Watching and making kites as a child came in useful after his job selling flowers dried up during covid-19, and he could then switch to making kites.

Although Sunil is a regular employee, he too is paid on the number of kites. “Working from 9 in the morning to 8 in the night everyone is trying his best to make thousands and thousands of pieces,” he adds.

There are a large number of Muslim women who craft kites –either whole or parts of it – in their homes. Aisha Parween learnt the art of tilangi-making to support her family of four. For the last 16 years, Aisha has been turning out kites from the one room-kitchen set-up she shares with her two children and husband. “Not long ago I used to make more than 9,000 tilangis in a week,” she recalls. “Now getting an order for 2,000 kites is a big deal,” she adds.

“A tilangi is made in seven parts and each part is done by a separate worker,” says Aisha. One worker cuts the plastic sheet into multiple squares as per the required size. Meanwhile two workers are cutting bamboo into small teelis and khaddas - one is long and thin while the other one is comparatively thicker and smaller. Another worker will paste the khaddas on the cut squares of plastic and pass it on to a worker who pastes the curved teelis.

Finishing it all up are the last two craftspersons who check and add a layer of sticking tape before passing it the last worker to make holes and tie the strings called kannas.

The plastic cutters earn Rs. 80 for 1,000 kites, while those how cut bamboos earn Rs. 100. The others in the assembly line-up earn around Rs. 50 for the same number. A group of workers can make 1,000 kites a day, working from 9 in the morning for 12 hours, with only small breaks in between.

“A total of seven people makes a single tilangi which is sold in the market for two to three rupees,” Aisha points out. The total cost adds up to Rs. 410 for 1,000 kites and the money divided between seven people. “I don't want Rukhsana [her daughter] to get into this kite-making business,” she says.

But like many other women artisans, she is happy to earn without leaving the house, but says the earnings are very low, “but at least the work was regular in the beginning.” Aisha was paid Rs.180 for paste khadda and tying the kanna for 2,000 kites – both tasks for 100 kites taking her around 4-5 hours to complete.

Tamanna lives in the same area of Deewan Mohalla and also makes tilangis. “The reason this work is done [largely] by women is because it is the lowest paid jobs in the kite industry,” says the 25-year-old. “There’s nothing special in pasting khadda or a teeli, but a woman gets 50 rupees for a 1,000 khadda while a man makes 100 rupees for a 1,000 teelis.”

Aisha’s 17-year-old daughter Rukshana is a khadda-master – she pastes the thin bamboo sticks onto the slippery thin plastic sheets. Enrolled in Class 11 in school, this Commerce student finds the time in between to help her mother with kite-making.  

She learnt the art from her mother at the age of 12. “She used to play with kites when she was young and was good at it,” says Aisha, who goes on to say that she now actively discourages her from flying kites as she says it’s more of a male sport.

Aisha is arranging freshly made tilangis near the entrance of her rented room in Sheeshmahel area of Mohalla Deewan. Rukhsana is busy giving the final touches to the kites. They are waiting for the contractor Shafique to arrive to collect them. 

“We received an order for 2,000 kites but I forgot to inform my daughter and she made 300 extra pieces with the remaining materials,” says Aisha.

“But there's nothing to worry, we'll use it for the next order,” says her daughter, Rukhsana, overhearing our conversation.

“Only if there is another order,” says Aisha.