The second of the three finals of the ICL at Sardar Patel Stadium was being played. Two of my friends had complimentary VIP passes and went off to see the match with great enthusiasm. The passes were marked Gate 2. As they made their  way to the gate, they happened to meet the friend who had given them the passes. He sent an escort to help them get an entry. The escort took them to the Gate 2 marked on the ticket only to find it locked. There were a lot of policemen around creating a racket, banging sticks on the floor, waving sticks at people  generally showing power, so they asked where they could enter. No one gave a straight answer.  They were pointed by different policemen to different gates and decided to try Gate 1 first. “Sorry no VIP pass holders here. This is only for members”, they were told by policemen, brandishing sticks near their faces. Once again they were pushed and shoved out of the vicinity of the gate and decided to try the next logical gate, i.e. Gate 3.

On their way to the gate they asked the escort what was happening and why everything was so disorderly. They were told that the public was allowed free entry for the preliminary matches. Now suddenly, for the finals, there were paid tickets. The rule had just been changed so the angry public pushed their way in saying that they had been watching the matches free till now and that they would not buy tickets for the finals. The scuffles were between the police and the public, sparking the aggression and confusion. The officialdom present was made up of the police, presumably because the stadium belongs to AMC, and the ICL or the stadium’s own security guards. There was total disagreement amongst them as well, as the guards had instructions to let some people in while the police had other instructions.



By this time they reached Gate 3. Here they were greeted by a queue that went all the way to the main gate, and a pushing and shoving one at that. They realized that this couldn’t be the VIP entrance and once again went to Gate 2, the one marked on the passes – still padlocked – and then once more to Gate 1 to try and find out how to get in with legitimate passes. Once again they bumped into the friend who had given out the passes, who, realizing that nothing was about to be solved through regularized means, showed his official’s pass at the members’ entrance and managed to get them into the stadium. At last.

Once in, they saw that on one side of the passage they were in,  was the ICL stand and on the other, the VIP stand.  However on both sides the gates letting people enter from the passage into the actual stalls were shut. They made their way to the shut gate of the VIP stall to find a guard on the other side arguing with a couple who were trying to get out. The man was explaining to the guard that his wife was a heart patient and needed to get out. The guard was refusing them exit! After some cajoling the guard opened the gate briefly and the patient and her husband slipped out and my friends, showing that they had passes for the stall, slipped in.

They were greeted with a comic sight. The stall, unlike those in most stadia, had no fixed seating or benches. An array of occupied plastic seats faced them. They could also see people from other stalls, “stealing” plastic chairs from here and walking back to their own stalls with two chairs over their heads.

Like many other hapless chair-less people they found a place to sit on the concrete steps and finally began to watch; but because the steps are also used to climb up and down and move side to side they were surrounded by feet , legs and swirling dust.

The match started amidst this. To their surprise however, there was no score board, electronic or manual, but instead a classroom like blackboard with basic run information, hard to read or follow. Worse, like in a village or mohalla match, there was a “commentator” telling the audience when to clap and when to cheer “chaalo to have taaliyo paado”.

The special surprise guest. Rakhi Sawant walked around the ground with escorts, along the rope separating the ground from the audience. Whenever she passed a stall, the entire, mostly male, audience would scramble down the steps, grope and wave, and then as she moved to the next stall, rush up to look for their chairs.

Because of the stupid commentary, the constant to-ing and fro-ing and the dust, my friends decided to leave. Knowing that the gate that they entered through would be barred to them ( remember the couple with the heart problem?), and knowing that Gate 2 padlocked, they made their way to Gate 3. They found that this too was padlocked with a posse of cops outside and about 15 people standing on their side, obviously trying to get out. The chaos outside continued unabated and the shouts of the others trying to get out were not being heeded. My friends decided to try another gate. Perhaps Gate 2, locked for incoming, was now open as an exit. Alas it was still shut but it was being put to another very Ahmedavadi use – two members of the public had their peckers out and through the jali were peeing carefully outside the gate. Dejectedly my friends went back to the stall they were in and asked a cop how they could leave. ‘You can’t’, they were told, ‘it is forbidden’. How could that be, asked my friend. No-one is allowed to leave before the match is over!’ And what if there is a stampede?’ No response.

After a quarter hour of further trying various gates they found one where a policeman, surrounded by twenty irate members of the public, was signalling his fellow cop outside to unlock the gate to let him out. As the gate opened to let him out, all the others, including my friends managed to shove their way through the gates before they were locked again. But the saga was not over.

They were out of the stadium but not out of the complex. Making their way to the entrance that would lead them on to the road, they were assaulted by a lathi waving cop, and nearly got crushed in the melee. Not wanting to argue, they crept on for another while before seeing a huge gate, open a crack, with a chain at head height and people trying to buy tickets and ducking the chain to come in. Much persuasion and elbowing later they found themselves  at last out of the complex. But oh no! Facing them was a bamboo barricade. They half crawled half crouched their way out. Freedom.

How proud we are of our wonderful organizing abilities..