IPL's return revives quiet economy outside Bengaluru's Chinnaswamy Stadium

Bengaluru: When the Indian Premier League (IPL) was put on pause amid rising India-Pakistan tensions, it didn't just silence the stadiums — it froze all the hustle and bustle around them. But on Saturday, the IPL lights were back in action and — despite rain playing spoilsport — so was the vibrant street economy outside the city's M Chinnaswamy Stadium. TOI looks at the small businesses, ranging from food vendors to merchandise sellers to auto drivers, dependent on the cricketing carnival. For them, every six hit and every roar of the crowd is more than entertainment — it's income, survival, and hope.

Artists of allegiance

By the bus stop near the stadium, 36-year-old Vijay, face-painter and die-hard Royal Challengers Bengaluru (RCB) fan, wields his brush with renewed purpose. Since 2017, he has transformed cheeks into canvases of loyalty. "This isn't a business for me, I'm a passionate fan," he insists, dabbing red and gold on eager faces at Rs 40 per design. But Vijay, a corporate worker by day and artist by match, laments the growing competition: "People come from Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh… it's getting harder to get customers."

Merchants of merchandise

No one blends into the matchday milieu like Mallikarjun. The 40-year-old, differently abled vendor from Kalaburagi wheels his stock near Cubbon Park Metro station — T-shirts, caps, flags — all made in Tiruppur, Tamil Nadu, and priced between Rs 50 and Rs 300. Dressed entirely in what he sells, Arjun becomes a walking billboard. "Earlier I sold up to 100 T-shirts. Now it's far less," he says. Yet, each match still brings him Rs 4,000-4,500 — enough to keep him going.

Food for the faithful

Sunkadakatte brothers G Ravi Kumar and Veer, aged 62 and 56, arrive with a crate of bottled water and a box of hot samosas. "We sell samosas for Rs 20 and water for Rs 10," says Ravi. "But if it rains, we run in losses." The two men, who otherwise work as a watchman and a fruit vendor, time their visits with match schedules, hoping hungry fans prefer them to stadium queues.

Nearby, Lata and Narayan from Tumakuru serve up simple meals at Rs 30 per plate. But the footfall has reduced. "We only get 10-20 customers. Sometimes most of my food goes to waste," Lata said, adding that earnings of Rs 400-600 barely cover the costs.

Brushes & belief

Not far from the gates, 23-year-old fine arts student Bharat Bhupati showcases caricatures based on viral memes. "I just want to engage the audience through humour and art," he says. His creativity adds colour to the matchday mood — not commercial, but cultural.

And then there's 28-year-old Sushan Shetty, a mechanical engineer turned digital creator. Armed with MS Dhoni posters, he stands outside the stadium, selling sentiment more than souvenirs. "I'm not selling posters. I'm selling passion," he smiles. One successful sale and a whole lot of conviction later, Shetty embodies the entrepreneurial spirit of IPL.

In a city obsessed with cricketing heroes, it's these quieter champions — the unseen and unfancied — who play a different kind of innings. One match at a time.

— Sutapa Dey