Srinagar Cricket Scam
Organisers Fled and the Sports Council Looked Away
Dr Umer Iqbal
The story of cricket in Kashmir was supposed to be one of revival, of fields blooming again after years. But the recent cricket scandal in Srinagar has turned that dream into disillusionment. What began as a celebration of sport at the refurbished Bakshi Stadium has ended as yet another tale of mismanagement, denial, and betrayal.
The recently launched Indian Heaven Premier League (IHPL), promoted as a grand showcase of Kashmir’s emerging sports potential, has turned into an embarrassing fiasco. The league, inaugurated with pomp at Bakshi Stadium in late October, promised to bring international flair, investment, and renewed energy to the game in the region. But within days, the organisers vanished, leaving behind unpaid players, stranded guests, unsettled hotel bills, and the lingering stench of deceit.
The irony could not be sharper. For months, officials associated with the Jammu and Kashmir Sports Council had proudly showcased the revival of Bakshi Stadium and the “return of big cricket” to the Valley. Every photograph, every press video, celebrated the Council’s role as a catalyst for sports transformation. Yet, when the storm broke, when the organisers fled and chaos unfolded, the same institution hastened to clarify that it had merely “provided infrastructure,” and bore no responsibility for the league’s collapse.
This convenient amnesia has become a familiar rhythm in the politics of sport. When the floodlights shine bright, everyone wants to share the glory; when they flicker out, the blame is quietly outsourced. The Council’s statement that the event was “purely private” and “held on rented premises” might be technically accurate, but morally, it is hollow. For an event that carried the official stamp of legitimacy, banners endorsed by local authorities, and permission granted for one of the city’s premier venues, the Sports Council cannot retreat into the shadows of technicality.
What makes the present fiasco particularly painful is the sidelining of genuine sporting figures who once carried Kashmir’s hopes on their shoulders. Players like Parvez Rasool, who became a symbol of cricketing excellence from the Valley, have found themselves increasingly alienated from the local sports ecosystem. Bilquis Jan, a tireless promoter of women’s sports, and Mehraj ud-Din Wadoo, a former India footballer who tried to bring structure and discipline to local coaching programmes, have been pushed to the margins. When such seasoned, homegrown figures are sidelined, and when glittering “events” are prioritised over sustainable development, the system invites exactly the kind of collapse that unfolded in Srinagar.
The problem is not merely financial, it is philosophical. Kashmir’s sports policy in recent years has tilted dangerously toward spectacle rather than substance. Mega-events, celebrity endorsements, and high-decibel inaugurations have taken precedence over coaching infrastructure, transparent selection, and athlete welfare. The IHPL was sold as a symbol of Kashmir’s sporting renaissance. Instead, it has exposed how deeply the region’s sports administration has confused entertainment for empowerment.
The political undertone of this entire episode cannot be ignored. In a Union Territory where every initiative is framed as a measure of “development,” the failure of a high-profile sports event reflects poorly on governance narratives that prize optics over outcomes. It also raises uncomfortable questions about the use of public venues and official endorsement for ventures that lack financial accountability. If due diligence had been exercised, if the organisers credentials and financial guarantees were properly vetted, players and officials would not have been left in this humiliating predicament.
Beyond the immediate scandal lies a deeper loss, the erosion of trust. Young cricketers from Budgam to Baramulla who dream of playing under the floodlights at Bakshi Stadium are now disillusioned. Parents who once celebrated their children’s selection in local leagues now question whether the system values sincerity at all. The region’s genuine sports ambassadors, who have earned their stripes through years of effort, watch as the space they helped build is overrun by opportunists seeking short-term gain.
The IHPL collapse, therefore, is not just about one failed tournament. It is a mirror held up to a system that has grown comfortable in contradiction, taking credit for revival while disclaiming responsibility for failure; celebrating infrastructure while ignoring integrity; promoting events while neglecting athletes. The Jammu and Kashmir Sports Council must now decide what it wants to be: a landlord renting out stadiums for profit, or a guardian of sporting dignity and discipline.
Until that decision is made, scandals like Srinagar’s cricket fiasco will remain inevitable, symptoms of a culture that rewards showmanship and punishes sincerity. For a region that has produced talents like Parvez Rasool, Bilquis Jan, Mehraj Wadoo, and others, Kashmir deserves better than cricket circuses that vanish overnight. It deserves honesty, accountability, and a vision that values sport not as spectacle, but as spirit.
Dr Umer Iqbal is Editor at Straight Talk Communications. He can be mailed at: editor@straight-talk-communications.com
