It used to be only the Taliban who so opposed kite flying that they ordered it banned. The extremist mullahs who ruled Afghanistan believed the sight of skies filled with small, paper kites was somehow un-Islamic. On the day the Taliban finally fled Kabul, the kites returned to the skies of the Afghan capital as a symbol of celebration.
Now, to the astonishment of many, the ban has re-emerged in Lahore, the steamy, liberal, cultural heart of Pakistan. Last month, Mian Aamer Mahmood, the head of the city council, ordered a three-month ban on kite flying. Illegal kite flyers, he warned, faced prosecution. The skies above the city's large parks have been empty ever since.
Mr Mahmood's officials insisted the ban was motivated purely by concerns of safety. Kite flying in Pakistan is frequently more a competition than a hobby. Flyers pit their kites against each other in skilled attempts to cut their rival's strings. Bets are occasionally laid, and to gain advantage most flyers buy string which has been specially soaked in a ground-glass and occasionally ground-metal paste that hardens to make the string slice like a knife. Some even use wire strings.
But in the crowded streets of Lahore's old city, the kite strings are as much a liability as an entertainment. City officials say at least 45 people have died of kite-related injuries in the past six months. Many of them were young boys whose wire strings hit electrical power lines, causing short circuits. Occasionally motorcyclists are garrotted by fallen wire strings and dozens of kite flyers sustain serious cuts to their fingers.
"A game should be a game and not a source of danger to the public," Mr Mahmood said. The temporary ban is intended to give city officials time to consider how to tackle the problem in the future.
Already savings are being made, they say. Short circuits caused frequent blackouts in Lahore's antiquated electrical supply and repairs would run to as much as £30,000 every weekend.
"The collective damage to home appliances has also run into billions of rupees," Mr Mahmood said. Since the ban started last month, there have been far fewer blackouts. Officials say the cost of repairs has fallen to around 1,000 each weekend.
Inevitably the kite makers are furious, sensing that their livelihoods are under threat. There are dozens of shops across the city, where paper kites have been carefully made by hand for decades. They now face closure.
But others warn there may be a darker side to the decision. Kite flying in Lahore has commonly been associated with the spring festival of Basant, when the city is cloaked in saffron-yellow and crowded with parties, dancing and celebration.
Hardline religious clerics have long railed against Basant, and the kite-flying that accompanies it, as un-Islamic. In a revealing statement presented to the courts in Lahore at the time of the kite ban, Khawaja Mohammad Afzal, the city's legal adviser, wrote: "The use of fire crackers, music and dance on such occasions is un-Islamic."
There have already been other incursions on Lahore's liberal traditions this year. Advertising billboards in the city depicting women were painted over. An attempt was made in the English department at Punjab University to purge the curriculum of some of the most famous works of English literature because they were deemed too "vulgar".
However, Mr Mahmood and his officials are likely to come to some form of eventual compromise over the kites, that allows the flying to continue but outlaws the dangerous wire and glass-coated strings. Few in Lahore will be ready to countenance Taliban-style rule in their city.