Outside the Ramlila Grounds opposite Turkman Gate, Mohammad Rashid gets down to business. The 17-year-old puts a plastic bag on the ground and looks up at the afternoon sky. He cups his mouth and yells: ‘Andey bachchey wali cheel chilo...’

He waits for his cry to melt into the sky before pulling out a lump of meat from the bag. He repeats the cry and this time throws the meat as high as he can. Before he can shout further, a few kites come hovering. Rashid pulls out some more meat and throws it up. The kites swoop down on the meat and fly away with it. Soon the sky is swarming with the birds.

The ritual attracts little attention in the old city—it’s a fairly common sight. Many families here still follow the ritual of feeding kites when their children fall ill and cry out in discomfort.

“The kites are fed only on Tuesdays and Saturdays,” says Rashid whose nephew is ill. “When a child cries uncontrollably, this is said to be the cure,” he says.