DATELINE: A Wide Ball That Stumped IHPL
The only thing truly ‘heavenly’ about this cricket league was how fast its organisers ascended – straight out of sight.
Peerzada Masarat Shah
While the city cheered the runners of the Kashmir Marathon 2025, celebrating endurance and unity under a golden Sunday Sun, another event across the Jhelum was collapsing faster than a deck of wet cards. The much-hyped Indian Heaven Premier League (IHPL) – pitched as a star-studded revolution in the game of cricket in Kashmir – turned out to be a tragicomedy of vanished organisers, unpaid bills, and locked hotel rooms.
What began at Srinagar’s Bakshi Stadium on October 25 with music, speeches, and promises of “cricketing glory” has now ended in silence and confusion. The league was abruptly halted midway after both players and match officials refused to step onto the ground, protesting unpaid salaries. By the weekend, the organisers had reportedly disappeared — phones off, excuses on, and reputations bowled clean.
A Dream Tournament or a Bad Replay?
The IHPL was marketed as a glamorous cricket festival featuring big names from India and abroad. Posters splashed around Srinagar promised 32 former international cricketers. The actual turnout, however, could barely fill a team bus. West Indian powerhouse Chris Gayle, Indian pacer Praveen Kumar, Sri Lankan all-rounder Thisara Perera, and South Africa’s Richard Levi made brief appearances before quietly packing their kits.
Chris Gayle played three games before heading out, Perera showed up for just one, and the remaining fixtures were left to domestic players like Parvez Rasool, Iqbal Abdullah, Faiz Fazal, and Ishwar Pandey — joined by eager local youngsters who now say they feel cheated.
Adil Reshi, a former Ranji player from J&K, said he saw the collapse coming. “There was no contract, no planning, nothing on paper,” he said. “I told the young boys not to rely on verbal promises. I left before things went south — and I’m glad I did.”
Hotels Locked, Players Shocked
The biggest shock came not from the scoreboard but from the hotel staff in Rajbagh, where players were staying. The management revealed that the organisers had booked rooms until November 9 but hadn’t paid a single rupee.
“They owe us more than ₹80 lakh,” a hotel representative said, shaking his head. “They kept promising the money was coming ‘tomorrow.’ That tomorrow never came. This morning, we had to lock their rooms. The players were allowed to check out — but our dues are still pending.”
Umpire Mellissa Juniper, affiliated with the England and Wales Cricket Board, said she and her colleagues faced similar treatment. “No one’s been paid — not the players, not us, not even the ground staff,” she told reporters. “The organisers fled in the middle of the night. Their phones are off, their office is empty, and their promises have gone the same way.”
Sports Council Distances Itself
As outrage brewed, the Jammu and Kashmir Sports Council rushed to clarify that it had nothing to do with the IHPL fiasco. Secretary Nuzhat Gul confirmed that the event was privately managed. “They had rented Bakshi Stadium and obtained permission from the Srinagar administration. It was entirely their own venture,” she said.
However, this statement has done little to calm the outrage. Many are now questioning how such an event was allowed to operate under official watch without any background verification of the organisers — who, as it turns out, were based in Delhi and have since gone missing.
The Disappearing Act
Local reports suggest that one of the organisers flew to Delhi “to arrange funds” just before the collapse and has yet to return. The rest, sources say, switched off their phones and vanished quietly, leaving behind unpaid bills, stranded players, and a bruised image of Kashmiri sports hospitality.
The final, scheduled for November 8, will likely never happen. What was sold as a symbol of opportunity and international exposure has turned into a running joke among cricketers.
From the grand opening led by the Youth Services and Sports Minister Satish Sharma to the grand disappearance act, the IHPL has proved that not every innings deserves applause.
The league promised “cricket from heaven,” but what it delivered was a masterclass in chaos — a mix of overconfidence, poor management, and outright deception.
For now, Kashmir’s young players are left wondering: if this was “heaven,” what does hell look like?
The only thing truly ‘heavenly’ about this league was how fast its organisers ascended — straight out of sight.
(Straight Talk Communications)
