Victory Marred by a Stampede

By the time the celebrations kicked off at Bengaluru’s M Chinnaswamy Stadium, the joy had already curdled. Eleven people were killed and more than 50 injured in a harrowing stampede outside the stadium on the evening of June 4, as a massive crowd gathered to witness Royal Challengers Bengaluru’s IPL victory celebrations. The team’s first title in 18 seasons was to be honoured with a public parade and felicitation, but the night fractured before the first cheer rose.

The day was marked by confusion. The Bengaluru police initially stated that no victory parade would take place and that only a closed stadium event had been planned. Later, the Royal Challengers’ official account announced a celebratory parade followed by a stadium gathering, mentioning free public entry via online passes. The mixed signals triggered a wave of fans—many without passes—who arrived hoping to glimpse the team and be part of what had been billed as a once-in-a-lifetime moment. There was no clarification. There was no turning back.

They came in the thou­sands. Police estimated over 50,000 people crowded into a 1km-stretch around the stadium by afternoon. Among them were children hoisted onto shoulders, elderly fans leaning on railings, men sell­ing knockoff RCB caps. Gate No 7, near the main entrance, became the crush point. Rumours swirled that the gates were opening. Whether they did or not is immaterial now—what mattered was the signal sent. The crowd moved.

It began gradually, almost imperceptibly: a few steps forward, a change in pressure. But within minutes, the tide became panic. Barricades gave way. People slipped. Some screamed. Others couldn’t. Breath was pressed out of lungs before a sound could escape. Those who fell were trampled. Those who stayed upright could not move in any direc­tion. When paramedics finally reached the site, 11 had died. Dozens more were carried away on stretchers.

Inside the stadium, the music had already started. RCB’s players appeared on the field to a roaring welcome. Virat Kohli addressed the crowd, thanking fans for their “unwavering belief”. Most in the stands re­mained unaware of what had just taken place outside. The felicitation continued, even as the first death confirmations began to arrive from Victoria and Bowring hospitals.

Later that night, Chief Minister Siddaramaiah called it “a moment of joy eclipsed by sorrow”, announcing Rs 10 lakh compensation for each of the deceased families. Home Minister G Parameshwara acknowledged the lack of preparedness and said a new standard operating procedure would be drafted for future public events. Deputy Chief Minister DK Shivakumar admitted the government had grossly underestimated the turnout, estimating that over 3 lakh people had assembled.

The scale of the judgement, and its consequences, have led to public anger and calls for accountability. The city’s civil society groups, urban planners, and even police officials have raised the same questions: Why was the event announced without confirming infrastruc-ture? Why were police left without an updated crowd management plan? Why were basic controls—holding zones, public address systems, medical tents—not put in place? Why was the celebra­tion politicised so swiftly, with ministers rushing to partake in RCB’s triumph, before ensuring the logistics were secured?

This pattern is familiar. The emotion of a public moment overwhelms the mechanics needed to hold it. By the next morning, posters still fluttered at traffic signals. But the city’s heartbeat had changed tempo. In celebrating its long-awaited sporting redemption, Bengaluru had let go of its grip on respon­sibility. The cost was measured in breathless silence, in shoes strewn across the pavement. A season had been won. But lives had been lost. And somewhere in between, the story of what it means to belong—to a team, a city, a moment—was rewrit­ten in footsteps that never reached the gate.

deathsIPL 2025M Chinnaswamy StadiumRoyal Challengers Bangalorestampede