I often wonder why we don’t value our lives.
- Why are we careless on the roads?
- Why do we lose our temper over trivial encounters, and is the only solution to physically harm the other person?
- Why do we take extreme measures without considering the consequences, consequences that can include someone losing their life?
It might sound harsh, even heartless, but the tragic stampede in Bengaluru following RCB’s IPL 2025 victory wasn’t just a failure of government or team management. It was also a reflection of our collective recklessness—an unwillingness to think critically, a blind surrender to celebrity obsession, and a disregard for basic safety.
I’ve been reading heart-wrenching stories online: about a 13-year-old girl, a fan of Virat Kohli, who lost her life in the stampede; about a female techie who never returned to her office, her laptop, or her desk; about a 14- or 15-year-old boy’s limp body being taken to the hospital. How many women and children lost their lives?
From what I read in the newspaper, the team management’s decision to hold a victory march in Bengaluru was impromptu, without allowing enough time to plan a detailed program. This led to constant changes and additions, the circulation of half-baked or incorrect information among the public, and inadequate security arrangements by the police.
What saddens me is the fan frenzy. People left their homes without complete information or tickets, and worse, they took their young children and female family members with them. Even if the stampede hadn’t occurred, we in India should by now be fully aware that such crowded, open-for-all events often lead to unpleasant experiences for many women (I’m referring to incidents of groping, molestation, inappropriate touching, etc.). Taking children to such densely packed places is, frankly, irresponsible. And for what? To catch a 0.005-second glimpse of their hero? The heroes just wave at an unrecognizable sea of human heads. Will they give you personal attention? Will they listen to how deeply you love cricket and how emotionally invested you were throughout the tournament?
Yes, it’s about love for the sport and the sportsmen—but use your brains. If they were offering personal attention, handshakes, or guaranteed goodies, I’d understand. But choosing to be part of an unorganized crowd with barely any concrete information was a recipe for disaster. With so many media channels around, fans could have had a much better and longer view of their heroes via Instagram or television.
When will we start valuing our lives more than the ‘celebrities’? Actors, actresses, politicians, sportsmen, and sportswomen—they’re all doing their jobs. They get paid handsomely for it. Loving them is fine, but risking your life for a fleeting, one-sided, nano-second glimpse is, once again, senseless.
As the investigation proceeds, the police department has already warned the team management and the government that a victory march at such short notice may lead to chaos and suggested an additional day to make the necessary arrangements (which seems very logical and reasonable). However, the team management and government overlooked the warning and went ahead with advertising the victory march.
I’m not denying the responsibility of the management, the government, and the administration in this tragedy. The management could have easily taken a day to plan the victory march with proper details, permissions, and adequate police presence. This would have helped communicate clear and accurate information to the public, making the event much smoother. However, even with better planning, a stampede or other mishap was still very possible, given that over 3 lakh people thronged a stadium with a capacity of only 3,500.
If only we used our common sense to persuade children and women not to attend such open, uncontrolled gatherings. Not that the lives of men are any less valuable—losing any life in such circumstances is never okay. It’s never acceptable to sacrifice your life for a celebrity who, at the end of the day, is simply doing a job—one they are paid crores of rupees to perform—while you, at most, receive a blank wave in your direction.
This isn’t about blaming the victims. It’s about asking tough, uncomfortable questions. It’s about learning from pain. Yes, the authorities failed—but we also failed ourselves by surrendering to unthinking enthusiasm.
We must stop leaving everything to the government or fate. Common sense, personal responsibility, and a little restraint could save lives. Let’s teach our children—and ourselves—that admiration need not come at the cost of safety.
Let’s choose life over limelight.
Image Courtesy: The Hindu
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