36 Hours in Ahmedabad
A Cricket World Cup in India naturally brings with it the irresistible urge to watch at least one match featuring the home team. That, however, would have been too simple.
Thanks to the now-familiar absurdity of ICC/BCCI ticket management, the process was chaotic once again. Tickets not being released until a week before the game, and then suddenly appearing on sale the very morning of the match!!
My original plan was either the Wankhede for India vs USA or Chennai for India vs Australia (now Zimbabwe). Either venue would have felt perfect. However, between logistics, timing, and the lottery that is ticket availability, neither materialized.
The Narendra Modi Stadium, for slightly bitter reasons, was not on my preferred list. Tickets are easier to secure there, largely because of its sheer size and perhaps because many fans share my sentiment.
So it was decided. India vs South Africa. Sunday, 22 Feb. My uncle for company with wonderful friends-who-are-family in Ahmedabad as hosts.
We took a Saturday afternoon flight, delayed by an hour. Landed around 7 PM, were warmly received, had a quick refresh and chai. A short drive took us to Ellisbridge Gymkhana club for some smashing cutlets and genuinely excellent chai.
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| Veg Cutlets |
From there, we headed to Urban Chowk, a sprawling, modernized food fair that felt like Ahmedabad’s answer to organized chaos of Manek Chowk.
Urban Chowk felt young and vibrant. It was heartening to see families with children as much as groups of college goers.
There is a good amount of seating. You may have to wait a bit if you are particular about your table, but once you settle in, it becomes surprisingly comfortable. The layout helps, vendors are spread out intelligently, which eases crowd congestion. A couple of stalls even use virtual queue devices, a impressive touch!
It is not inexpensive. But you are paying for visible quality. Food prepared in front of you, good hygiene standards, clean surroundings and the simple luxury of sitting back and eating without feeling rushed. Sometimes that also matters.
We stayed until about 1:15 AM. We drove around the city chasing late-night chai spots, to find them buzzing with people happily devouring poha, handvo, dhokla, and bhel at 2 AM as though it were early evening. The energy was infectious. We finally got back around 2:15 and called it a night.
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| Pista Kunafa |
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| Jamun Shots |
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| The Usuals :-) |
On Sunday morning (Game day) - We were invited to another friends home for a morning "traditional" breakfast:-). Some lovely fun was had, with great conversations over chai.
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| Fafda, Jalebi, Khaman, Kadi, Chutney at Nareshji Bhai's wonderful home |
We returned to Digish Bhai's home for a quick siesta and some chatter with the family. A simple home made meal (with a few accompaniments) followed for lunch.
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| Roti, Aloo Methi, Dhokla, Khandvi and Aamras and Dal |
Another quick nap followed before we left home around 3:45 PM for a short drive to Rajiv Nagar Metro station. The plan was simple — take the train to Motera. On paper, it should have been a 20–25 minute ride. However, it stretched to about 30–35 minutes.
At Old High Court station, the crowd simply engulfs the train. It was only around 4:30 PM, yet the volume of people was already swelling. Getting out at Motera station took another 15 minutes. We wisely purchased our return tickets right then, valid until midnight, to avoid battling the crowd post-match. Small win!
On match day , you do not “walk” to the stadium, it is like merging into a human current.
A steady, determined stream of people flowing in one direction. It can be mildly intimidating, especially if you are responsible for keeping track of others in your group. Seven or eight minutes later, the imposing structure of the Narendra Modi Stadium rises in front of you.
The main entrance is startlingly common for everyone. The segregation into stands happens only after you pass through what felt like fifty turnstiles. If you arrive early, it is manageable. Arrive 30–45 minutes before the start, one can only imagine the bottleneck.
Once inside, there is another substantial walk across the vast concrete concourse to reach the C Stand in the southern section. We gratefully paused at the free water stations, a blessing in the still-hot evening air.
The restrooms are located on the lower ground floor. Predictably, they were already of average quality, damp floors and the smell, this was not because of lack of maintanence but who will actually use their hands to flush in such a public washroom (the world has moved on to automation. This was two hours before the game began.
Finding our stand involved a brief wrong turn, which becomes far less amusing when you are accompanying three elders (and, to be fair, I am not yuppie either). On the way, I slipped into a few upper tiers to take in the scale and capture some pictures.
The match itself — result notwithstanding (South Africa played their absolute A-game; India found their worst day) — was an experience in scale.
The seats are surprisingly spacious, with generous legroom even for taller spectators. Something that cannot always be said about older venues like M. Chinnaswamy Stadium. The view is excellent. Given the vast playing arena and the expansive bowl of seating, I doubt there is truly a “bad seat” in the house.
When 75,000 to 80,000 voices rise together to sign the anthem— eventually recorded at 90,954 in attendance — the sound is engulfing. Exhilarating does not quite capture it.
Even better was hearing the roar each time my man, Jasprit Bumrah, came on to bowl. That familiar run-up, that collective intake of breath, and then the explosion of cheers — those moments make the chaos worthwhile.
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| With Digish Bhai |
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| Exit line at the Metro (getting to the game) |
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| The Young ones and I |
National Anthem (Short clip)
Bumrah Gets Rickleton
Appreciation for Bumrah
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| For the Anthems |
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| At Dusk, warming up |
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| Almost Peak Capacity |
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| Bumrah in Action. |
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| A Night Panorama |
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| I was there! (Wish the numbers to the left were better) |
The crowds today are increasingly partisan in Indian venues— and it felt more pronounced here. There was a certain flatness to the energy, almost as if the DJ had to constantly prod the spectators into participation. Even the players were trying to lift the mood. Arshdeep, in particular, drew cheers from the crowd and he kept them in good humor
We decided to leave just before the 15th over of the second innings, to avoid the inevitable crush. A quick water stop followed. I made the mistake of venturing toward the restroom again, only to retreat instantly because of the overpowering smell.
Exiting the stadium was an experience in itself. Some turnstiles were being manually held open by volunteers; others remained down, forcing people to awkwardly navigate through. Why the turnstiles are not fully rolled up during exits is beyond comprehension. I genuinely wondered what the situation would have been had the game gone down to the final over with India in a winning position.
We did not purchase any food inside. We had already bought water (₹100 for a one-litre bottle). Smuggled in some snacks — technically not permitted, but the senior citizens were convincing and we were even carrying heart-healthy bun maska - LOL
Food pricing inside felt in line with what one expects at major Indian venues: ₹350 for pizza, ₹100 for corn, ₹100 for a samosa.
A brisk eight-minute walk later (surely exhausting my companions), we made it onto the metro. The train waited until it was satisfyingly full before departing. Conversations floated around us about the “jinx” at this venue, and the collective hope that perhaps it would be reversed by the time the finals arrived.
We reached Rajiv Nagar Metro station around 10:15 PM and made it back to the parked car.
We picked up the ladies from home and reached close to 11 PM. Manek Chowk at night remains a spectacle — stainless steel counters, fluorescent lights, smoke rising from tawas, and a rhythm that feels unchanged by time.
We secured a table and ordered the usual favourites. One interesting change from my visit seven years ago: while orders were still efficiently taken at the table, payments now had to be made directly to individual vendors — perhaps a response to the heavy post-match crowd. I distinctly remember paying a single person earlier, who would then settle accounts internally.
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| This was 1 am - we carried freshly made Fafda and Ghantiya in our hand bag |
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| The Guava Shots were nice |
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| Jamun Shots were good, but had added sugar |
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| Pizza, Pineapple sandwich, Chaas and Ghugra Sandwich |
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| There is a Pizza buried under all that cheese! |
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| Manek Chowk at 11:15 PM on a Sunday night |
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| Lots of Cheese and Katchup! |
We reached home around 12:45 AM.
Naturally, all that food called for one final chai before bed. By 1:15 AM, we were finally horizontal — only to wake up again at 3:15 AM for a quick freshen-up before heading to the airport for our 6:30 AM flight
Digish Bhai insisted on dropping us off. We left with great memories, tired eyes, and bags generously stuffed with snacks for the journey back. Got home by 9:30 AM.
And yes — do not ask me how — but I managed a full working Monday right after.
Until next time, preferably with a different match result.
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