The late winter sun is already climbing over Surat when the festival begins to unfold in earnest. Makar Sankranti is drawing near, and with it comes the sight that marks this city each January. Rooftops bloom with colourful kites, and the sky fills with drifting tails of cotton and nylon. Children run across terraces, their laughter merging with the whoosh of strings slicing through the crisp air. The city feels alive, vibrant, and full of promise.

However, beneath this celebration, a hidden danger weaves its way through the streets. Thin kite strings called ‘manjha’ shimmer in the sunlight,........

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