Why Manjha Issue need to be addressed
Our ever-changing cityscapes demand constant adaptation from wildlife. Most species manage this quietly, adjusting their routes and behaviours to navigate the spaces we leave behind. Above our cities, the sky is always in use: kites rise, birds flit between trees and rooftops, and bats commute after dusk. Shared spaces always involve some friction, but over time, wildlife and cities usually find a way to coexist.
Manjha disrupts that delicate balance in a way few other things do.
The problem isn’t the kite. It’s the string — specifically, the glass-coated synthetic thread commonly called manjha. Kites eventually come down, but manjha often does not. It lingers — tangled in trees, stretched across terraces, snagged on power lines, or suspended invisibly across flyovers — turning open skies into hidden hazards.
For wildlife, the sky isn’t a backdrop. It’s a working space — for hunting, commuting, and surviving. Birds and bats adapt to urban hazards over time — traffic, glass, noise, lights. That adaptation depends on consistency. Manjha offers none. Thin, strong, and often invisible, it sits exactly at flight height. There’s no time to see it, no chance to learn from it, and no margin for error once contact is made.
As open grounds shrink, kite flying has moved to terraces. When lines are cut or abandoned, manjha drapes across trees, loops over power lines, and remains suspended at the height animals use. Unlike cotton, synthetic manjha doesn’t break down with sun or rain. Season after season, it accumulates, quietly turning familiar spaces into invisible traps.
The consequences are severe. Casualties include not just kites and crows, but also rarer species — Booted Eagles, Mottled Wood Owls, Black-headed Ibises, Greater Cormorants — pointing to a much broader impact. This thread is strong enough to slice through skin, muscle, tendons, and bone. Many affected animals die quietly, struggling to free themselves long before anyone notices.
Unlike most urban hazards, this one serves no essential purpose. Safer alternatives exist. Its continued use is a matter of habit — and of avoiding the consequences. Rescue and rehabilitation help only a fraction of affected animals. Prevention is the only meaningful solution.
What responsibility looks like
Coexistence isn’t just tolerance. It’s recognising when our choices create avoidable risk — and being willing to change.
Use plain cotton thread instead of synthetic manjha — it drastically reduces harm to birds, bats, children flying kites, and two-wheeler riders.
Leave rescue to the trained rescuers. If you see a bird entangled in manjha on a tree or power line, do not try to rescue it yourself. Incorrect techniques can cause serious injuries that would otherwise be avoidable. Save this number: Avian and Reptile Rehabilitation Centre (ARRC) — 94496 42222.
Join community clean-ups at parks, lakes, and residential areas to remove lingering manjha before it causes injury.
Report illegal sale and use — synthetic manjha is banned for a reason.
These aren’t dramatic interventions. They’re practical, everyday shifts that acknowledge shared space. Manjha matters because it represents one of the clearest examples where harm is foreseeable, preventable, and unnecessary. When the cost is borne by those who never chose it, responsibility is no longer abstract — it becomes immediate and shared.
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