The Chinnaswamy disaster

What is it about human nature that drives us to try and take advantage of unimaginable, unspeakable tragedy? Why is it that even lives lost cruelly, needlessly, become a means to derive political mileage and take cheap shots?

It's not even been 24 hours since the horrific, heart-rending scenes outside the M Chinnaswamy Stadium, yet the narrative has taken a reprehensible twist with finger-pointing and a shameful attempt at absolving themselves of any blame becoming the norm. How insensitive can we get? Is this how we remember the innocents who turned up merely to partake in celebrations and paid the ultimate price? Is this how we honour the families that have lost loved ones for no reason?

The terrible tragedy of Wednesday evening will haunt Bengaluru for a long, long time to come. The celebratory mood that had gripped the Garden City from late on Tuesday night when Royal Challengers Bengaluru wrapped their hands around the IPL trophy for the first time, after 17 abortive attempts, rapidly gave way to unchecked tears and dreams destroyed. Surely, this is not what sporting success is meant to accomplish.

The catastrophic developments could so easily have been avoided with a little bit of common sense and greater clarity in communication. Instead, mixed messages abounded; the promise of a victory parade on an open-top bus was perhaps the primary, but not only, reason for more than one hundred thousand fans laying siege to the Central Business District, at the heart of which rests the Chinnaswamy Stadium.

Two public events within minutes of each other, two kilometres apart, contributed immensely to the congregation of the most passionate followers of a franchise that had promised much but delivered little until its six-run conquest of Punjab Kings in Tuesday night's final in Ahmedabad. The opportunity to see Virat Kohli in the flesh, holding the trophy aloft, was too tempting to pass up, especially once it was announced that entry would be free of charge. At best, the Chinnaswamy can house 35,000 people; to say that there were at least three times that number on the various roads in its immediate vicinity will be no exaggeration.

There were conflicting versions of the sequence of events but that didn't prevent people from beginning to flock towards the venue from around 1.00 pm. While the Chinnaswamy was to be the culmination of the celebratory routine, the origin was the Vidhana Soudha, where Rajat Patidar, Kohli and the rest of the extended squad were to meet the chief minister, his deputy and the governor of Karnataka, among others, in an open-air event. Such was the sea of people that a Patron's Day celebration at a nearby club in Cubbon Park had to be called off because access was non-existent.

The promise of the 'victory parade' despite top police officials initially shooting down the proposal played a significant part in the terrible events that followed. Even when the two buses carrying the squad that were a part of a large convoy breezed past the Chinnaswamy around 3.15 pm on its way to the RCB hotel from the old HAL Airport, chants of 'RCB RCB' and 'Kohli Kohli' rent the air. By then, Queen's Road - through which the main stadium entrance must be accessed - had been taken over by an endless wave of fans.

Amid the festivities, as one gingerly picked the way through the teeming thousands going in all directions, there was a sense of grim foreboding. A feeling that something untoward was imminent. There was uncertainty, if not fear, in young faces, surrounded as they were from all sides by strangers, women and men. There was pushing and shoving, and every time a crescendo broke out closer to the Metro Station adjacent to the old National Cricket Academy premises, people craned their necks - to the extent that they could - and held aloft their mobile phones to record the proceedings even though they couldn't see what had set off the cheers.

All access gates to the stadium were firmly shut at this stage but the flood was unabated on either side of the inadequate barriers overhanging the footpath. Those who had downloaded the 'free passes' weren't sure which gate to enter from, which added to their anxiety. A brief but sharp and sudden downpour didn't help either, though this transpired after the stampedes that extinguished hopes and altered the lives of hundreds forever.

So caught up were most in celebration that several didn't even realise that people had fallen down and were being trampled upon. There was no way ambulances, even had they been requisitioned in large numbers, could have been able to rush the affected to the hospital because the access road didn't allow for even walking room. Nothing was more shattering than the sight of people carrying the unconscious in their arms or on their shoulder, running desperately in the direction of the hospitals in the neighbourhood.

The scene outside nearly every gate was the same. Hundreds, nay thousands, waiting impatiently for them to be opened so that they could grab vantage seats in whichever stand they could make their way to. Many managed to get in. Many others weren't so fortunate. And a few others, well...

Footwear strewn outside gates bore mute testimony to the cataclysm of a few minutes earlier, though those inside were either unaware of what had transpired outside or didn't quite realise its magnitude. When the RCB squad emerged on their first-floor balcony to parade the trophy individually, the crowd went nuts. And when the team climbed the podium on the outfield, waiting for triumphant first-time skipper Patidar to make a grand solo entry with the coveted piece of silverware, they practically brought the roof down.

By this time, one is sure, the squad knew of the tragedy. Their reactions suggested so. They went through the motions, but the show was cut short. This wasn't an evening when you could say, the show must go on.

Could this misfortune have been averted? For sure, with greater planning and with more time to put processes in place. The unseemly haste in throwing this event together with little thought or consideration for public safety can't be ignored. Nor the confusing signals from the different parties involved with regard to what the evening would entail. Poor planning, lack of preparedness, fatigued police and a frenzied, excitable, milling tens of thousands crammed in a limited space - it all contributed to an evening of mourning, of mainly young lives lost, of families destroyed beyond repair. Terrible, just terrible.