Former City Coordinator for IPL & Indian Super League | Defence & Security Analyst
On the evening of June 3rd, 2025, at the Narendra Modi Stadium in Ahmedabad, something magical unfolded.
A man who gave 18 years of his life to a team, a dream, and a nation -
ran up the steps, not for applause or trophies,
but into the arms of the woman who had waited with him.
Virat and Anushka - their embrace wasn’t a celebrity photo-op.
It was a moment of love, of relief, of everything we all silently hope for
when we walk the long road of loyalty.
That image will stay with us.
But so will another -
of people crushed in a crowd the next day, June 4th, 2025 in Bengaluru,
outside the very stadium that had echoed with joy just hours ago - M. Chinnaswamy Stadium - where a planned celebration of RCB's historic victory turned tragic.
RCB in Bengaluru is said to not just be a club - it is said to be a cult.
The only one with a fan base that grew unstoppably for 18 years, despite never winning the cup.
And finally, it happened - on June 3rd, 2025.
But when joy turned to horror the very next day, we were left wondering -
Was it the organisers who failed to plan for the magnitude of this devotion?
Or did the sheer emotional force of a so called cult following overwhelm every expectation?
Either way, the result was the same - a human tragedy.
The stadium, capable of holding at the best many thousands found itself surrounded by a crowd estimated to be in Lakhs, almost six times the number it can accommodate.
Children separated from parents. People crushed in the chaos. Lives lost.
Having been a City Coordinator for the IPL for at least two seasons -
and having played a crucial role during the induction of the Women’s IPL in 2019 —
I say this not with criticism, but with deep sorrow and insight:
There was most likely a failure in communication -
regarding entry and exit protocols, safety drills, emergency exits.
There may have been sufficient security deployed, no doubt doing their best -
but in events of this scale, crowd management cannot rely on deployment alone.
It demands coordination, foresight, and humility.
The victory parade was swiftly cancelled due to safety concerns.
The Karnataka government announced compensation for the families of the deceased and ordered a high-level inquiry into the lapses.
But how do you compensate for a life lost to celebration?
How do you measure the cost of joy turning into grief?
Even the Chief Minister admitted -
that the sorrow has overshadowed the joy.
The confetti has settled, the drums have fallen silent,
and all that remains is a hollow where triumph once stood.
Sadly, the celebration became mourning -
in a stampede that took away more than just lives.
It took away a certain kind of innocence.
As someone who has worn the uniform,
and served in some of the most difficult terrains of our country - J&K and the Northeast -
I have seen death. I have faced it, saluted it, and sometimes, questioned it.
But the hardest ones to process are the ones that didn’t need to happen.
I can say this with full conviction, having been an integral part of IPL operations myself.
I remember Pahalgam.
When that terror attack on tourists shocked the nation.
And I remember how the Army was questioned.
Where were we? Why wasn’t it prevented? Why didn’t we act sooner?
And we stood up.
We answered.
Because being questioned is part of duty.
So today, from this space of grief, I ask -
can those responsible now stand up to be questioned, too?
Can there be an answer to mismanagement?
Systems collapse not just due to overload,
but due to the arrogance of those who believe they know better - or worse, believe nothing will go wrong.
This is not blame.
This is a soldier’s sorrow.
This is a citizen’s right.
We celebrate cricket like no other nation.
We drape it in festivity, in national emotion.
But even love needs discipline.
Even passion needs planning.
The romance between Virat and Anushka - that was beautiful.
But the romance of an entire nation with cricket -
on that day, proved very costly.
And while we hold one image in our hearts,
we must not let the other fade.
The child who never made it home that night…
The father who came to cheer and never returned…
They were not collateral.
They were part of this celebration.
And they paid the ultimate price.
As a soldier, I do not write this to condemn,
but to remember.
And to say, humbly -
if we could be held accountable in Pahalgam,
surely there is room for accountability in Bengaluru too.
Because the border is not the only place
where vigilance is sacred.
Jai Hind
!!!