Forget Virat Kohli’s cover or Abhishek Sharma’s maximum; The 19th edition of the Indian Premier League began with a spectacular own goal. We are mere hours away from the draw and the tournament is already mired in a self-inflicted farce.
A year ago, tragedy struck Bengaluru. 11 people lost their lives in the stampede during Royal Challengers Bengaluru’s victory celebrations. Just days ago, the same franchise broke the valuation records of sa a milestone worth $1.78 billiona towering monument to the league’s global importance and the sport’s financial health. Somewhere between that sadness and the commercial maxim, something deeply unencouraging took shape.
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GRIEF COMMONS WITH CHAMOSTITY
What should have been a somber exercise in respect has instead become a stage for the political ugliness that routinely tarnishes the country’s silverware. The BCCI, in a rare moment of restraint, reportedly canceled the opening ceremony and put down the neon and spectacle as a mark of respect. RCB followed suit, she pledged to keep eleven seats open in each match in a quiet, moving tribute.
However, Karnataka MLAs have somewhat different ideas about the seating arrangement.
Our esteemed legislators have secured two VIP tickets each for the opener, increasing to three for the next matches in Bengaluru. The entire booth was supposedly cordoned off for their exclusive use, saving them the obvious trouble of sharing oxygen with a common human. One might assume this is a reward for unraveling Bengaluru’s gridlock or perhaps conjuring up a permanent solution to the city’s water crisis.
Unfortunately not. It is simply the result of a cross-party effort on the part of the netas, who leaned on the Karnataka State Cricket Association and its chief, Venkatesh Prasad, until the tickets materialized. Karnataka Cricket Association President Venkatesh Prasad meets Chief Minister Siddaramaiah on Friday (Courtesy: Government of Karnataka)
“We’re VIPs. We can’t stand in lines,” said Congress MLA Vijayanand Kashappanavar.
The prospect of sitting in the general gallery with the very people who voted for them seems a step too far for some.
“This is not acceptable,” he added, speaking for a political class that seems increasingly uncomfortable with the idea of paying for its own entertainment.
“We are VIPs, we can’t stand in queues: KSCA should give 5 tickets to every Karnataka MLA and minister,” says Congress MLA Vijayananda Kashappanavar
Bengaluru
Congress MLA Vijayananda Kashappanavar strongly criticized the Karnataka State Cricket Association (#KSCA) for pic.twitter.com/hkG3UEhPb0— Yasir Mushtaq (@path2shah) March 26, 2026
It can be assumed that it is a birthright.
SEATS AND PERFORMANCE
Reacting to this moving display of non-partisan unity, UT Speaker Khader directed the state government to ensure that each MLA gets four VIP tickets to Chinnaswamy. Small grace that they seem to have settled for less.
When I first came across Mr. Kashappanavar’s remarks, I allowed myself a faint hope that the party leadership might reprimand quickly. Instead, twenty-four hours later, the red carpet was rolled out and a private corral set up.
Such is the familiar disconnect of Indian politics; or perhaps such is the folly of expecting restraint from a class that treats the public service as a members-only parlor.
“They are taking all the facilities of the government – security and everything else – but they are not respecting MLAs,” he continued without a trace of irony.
One wonders what civics textbook he has read. Most would suggest that elected representatives are in fact civil servants.
Let’s not be overly sentimental. Karnataka lawmakers are hardly pioneers in the art of attention, and the KSCA is not the first body to find itself in the throes of gentle persuasion during the IPL season. Rarely, however, has this authorization been so blunt.
It was a rare moment of unity in a way. Kashappanavar noted that the demand was echoed by Leader of the Opposition R. Ashoka. A two-way tussle for the best seats in the house.
Phew. Fortunately, not everyone joined the queue. BJP state president BY Vijayendra distanced himself and remarked, “We legislators are not greater or different from the common man. We should not ask for special privileges.”
Forget the main role. The image that lingers is of Venkatesh Prasad, one of India’s best fast bowlers, standing with clasped hands in front of the chief minister – a stance that many felt suggested reverence. An “official invitation” that looked suspiciously like an acquiescence. The message was clear: in the hierarchy of modern Indian cricket, the legendary outswinger is no match for the mildly disgruntled MLA.
A photo that spoke volumes, none unflattering. Courtesy:@Tejasvi_Surya/X
VIP LEVER?
The timing of this legislative tantrum is as curious as it is shameless. Only last year, Bengaluru was stripped of hosting rights after a deadly stampede, a tragedy that saw one of cricket’s great cathedrals lose major tournaments.
The irony is hard to ignore. Justice John Michael D’Cunha Commission appointed by the Government of Karnataka itself, termed M. Chinnaswamy Stadium unsafe for mass gatherings and recommended relocation of matches. To regain your place in the IPL calendar, The KSCA spent months navigating bureaucratic hoops: upgrading infrastructure, redesigning entry points and installing an extensive CCTV network. On Saturday, when the defending champions host SunRisers Hyderabad, the stadium will be crawling with police personnel – civil servants tasked with ensuring there is no repeat of last June.
In this context, the current requirements raise an uncomfortable question. Do lawmakers see these safety distances as public guarantees or as leverage for seat 4A in the VIP booth? Is due process a matter of governance or simply a negotiation with better upholstery?
COMMONER CHAOS
While the netas negotiate their sanctuary, the average fan is left to wade through the digital Hunger Games. In the 40,000-seat stadium, a significant portion of the seats are already consumed by companies, sponsors and various stakeholders. What’s left disappears in seconds to reappear on sales platforms with tempting markups.
In Bengaluru, Mumbai and Chennai, the holy trinity of ticket demand, the scramble borders on the absurd. During the recent T20 World Cup semi-final, tickets priced at Rs 900 were reportedly resold for up to Rs 15,000. One fan told IndiaToday.in that he had spent nearly Rs 100,000 on four tickets but was left in financial and emotional distress when his companions backed out. It’s a marketplace fueled by passion and sustained by desperation.
The indignity does not stop at the turnstiles. While an entire booth is reserved for politicians who see the match as a social backdrop somewhere between a networking event and a photo opportunity, accredited journalists find themselves in a seemingly opaque approval process.
Access comes late, if at all, making it difficult to plan coverage for a tournament that relies heavily on media visibility. In one case, a reporter was threatened with having their access revoked simply for attending a post-match press conference on a day when they had not been issued a match pass. Apparently showing up for work can be a crime.
The irony is as immobile as rush hour traffic at the Silk Board intersection. A seasoned journalist is stripped of his credentials for showing up to work, while a legislator who probably hasn’t stood in line for anything since dial-up internet walks away with a pair of VIP passes and a reserved lounge.
It looks like a statement of ownership. And it is clear that the game no longer belongs to those who play it, nor to those who pay for it.
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Issued by:
Akshay Ramesh
Published on:
28 March 2026 09:09 IST
