The evening of June 4 was supposed to bring joy to the city of Bengaluru, as the Queens Road-Cubbon Road-Minsk Square surrounding the structure of M. Chinnaswamy Stadium was red, not because of the tail lights of vehicles stuck in traffic, as is common in the city, but because of people daydreaming about getting a wave from RCB and Kohli after their first Indian Premier League title.
The trophy was returned after 18 long and incredibly patient seasons, leaving dedicated fans eager to celebrate during the triumph parade, which was scheduled to take place along a two-kilometer stretch from Vidhana Soudha to Chinnaswamy. However, this was done in violation of strong local law enforcement regulations.
“Without any official permission, on June 4, RCB announced their celebration and victory parade on their social media and website, inviting fans to join. Once this news spread on TV channels and social media, we informed our senior officers and requested security and necessary arrangements. On June 4, 9:00 am, took permissions from the higher officers and asked police personnel from all over the city on urgent basis and the security arrangements were made. And security was provided for RCB players for the felicitation ceremony,” Bengaluru Police official told following an FIR that was filed on Thursday.
What did the most popular team on social media do?
RCB announced a grand celebration at the venue, with tickets going live at 3:14 PM IST for an event starting at 5:00 PM (quite the Indian Standard Time). The massive crowd, estimated at over two lakh people, overwhelmed the roads, requiring emergency security and military police to calm down the chaos, all in vain.
Media, initially there to cover the in-stadium event, broadcast footage of the situation outside, reporting multiple casualties (11 confirmed so far) and serious injuries to several others.
How did it start?
As media representative, my colleague and I were called to report the event that was set to take place on the green field at the Chinnaswamy turf, but as it unfolded, forget being seated at the glass view from the press box, we could not get in, despite showing our media passes and “special badges” that were supposed to let us in. The police stationed at the gates assumed we were impersonating as media personnel to sneak ourselves in, but trust the words here – the situation was worse than we thought.
All the media were originally asked to enter from Gate 11, which can be accessed from the “kaccha rasta” that leads to the KSCA Clubhouse entrance, but from the crowd scene, we naturally called our guys who were inside, only to be told to cross the entire road and reach another side, reaching where felt like a victory parade in itself. But this was just the start.
Now, at the latest-designated media entrance gate, there was an even bigger crowd, with people climbing trees atop like monkeys to watch the lions of their jungle arrive on a decorated bus. Why? It was the same gate through which the RCB bus would be entering the Chinnaswamy. Some even reached the roof of the stadium – the same spot where a number of spectacular sixes are hit in the IPL every year.
We waited patiently, literally begging to be let in, and at the same time, powerless enough to see ourselves in or completely out, stuck stampeded. In the meantime, all we could see was a few unlucky fans bearing the toll of the flock and losing their consciousness. When police and other staff tried to help them get out of the stadium, carrying them outside in arms, the people outside saw an opportunity to break the barriers and sneak in. Inhuman, right? Absolutely.
Suffocation and unconsciousness due to the extreme frenzied situation was not uncommon at all. Almost every other minute, an ambulance was either seen crashing inside from Chinnaswamy’s main gate (Gate 12) or rushing out, finding it hard to navigate to the nearby Bowring Hospital, as if the 120dB sirens on them had zero effect on the crowd. But the crowd was helpless, since they had no space to offer even when they knew someone’s life was at stake.
We saw it unfold right in front of our eyes. And just when we thought to wait at the gates for the last five minutes before we ran away from the chaos, an identifiable flying cane from a police personnel hit my left leg to enforce a ‘lathi charge’, forcing me to evacuate almost immediately. And while this may not be deemed funny, we held our hands tight acting like parents hold kids at a fair. To avoid such a mishap, we too had to. No calls or phone messages could help us reach out to each other in that situation.
After walking almost a kilometre, we could finally breathe easy. It felt like a blow of oxygen had hit us. All we needed now was some hydration, and the Hard Rock Cafe at the Anil Kumble Circle just helped as much. As we ordered a few refreshments, the TV set inside the café played Star Sports, broadcasting the event live, and we weren’t interested one bit to even see what happened. Think that’s quite natural. We returned to our bases – numb, tired, clueless and with a lot of headache.
As it panned out, the arrival of RCB & King Kohli’s charioted procession took the face of a stretchered amputation.
India
