Water, Mud & Dreams: Ground reality of football at Eidgah ground in Srinagar
Srinagar, Jun 4: On most days, the Eidgah ground in the heart of Srinagar’s old city should be echoing with the sound of footballs being kicked, excited cheers of children, and the rhythm of a community bound by sport. Instead, it lies mostly silent — not for the lack of passion, but because the field, riddled with puddles and pockmarked by potholes, has become virtually unplayable.
The imagery is stark. Children like Ehsan Latif, 17, and Zayan, 13, try to dribble around stagnant water patches, their shoes splashing through slush, every pass a struggle against uneven ground. The goalposts are standing, but without nets. “It looks like they were put here just for show,” says Ehsan. “Once it rains, this place becomes a swamp. We can’t play for an entire week sometimes.”
This is the ground reality of Eidgah — one of the city’s most symbolic and historically significant open spaces — which once witnessed robust local sports culture, especially on festivals and public holidays. But today, it is a story of neglect, missed potential, and quiet despair.
A Field That Fails Its Players
The Eidgah ground is massive in size, located amidst a bustling neighbourhood that includes traditional homes, schools, and mosques. It is also deeply rooted in the cultural memory of Srinagar’s downtown youth. “On Eid days, children from nearby areas would gather here after prayers,” recalls Zayan. “It was a place of joy, sport, and friendship.” But that spirit is fast vanishing.
“The field is not level. It has potholes every two minutes of play,” says Ehsan. “There’s no drainage, no maintenance. We fall and hurt ourselves all the time. And there’s no one we can tell. We messaged someone from JK Football Association — but we got no response.”
He points to one corner of the ground, now overgrown with grass and garbage. "Kids don't even want to come anymore. And those who do, leave after a while. What's the point of getting hurt every other day?"
The Price of Neglect
In a city where cricket continues to dominate public attention and investment, footballers from working-class neighbourhoods like Waenyar, Narwara, Safa Kadal, Nawab Bazar, or Eidgah often fall through the cracks. While synthetic turf fields like TRC and Polo Ground offer better infrastructure, they remain far or unaffordable for many.
“Traveling to TRC daily isn’t possible,” says Zayan. “We are school kids. We just want a decent place nearby to practice.”
The result? Talented youth either stop playing or risk injury. “One bad fall and a kid might be out for a month — or worse, give up the game altogether,” says Ehsan. “When that happens, they don’t return. They stay indoors or get distracted by the wrong things.”
A Ground Full of History, Empty of Support
Eidgah is not just another playground. Historically, it has hosted community-level sports events, religious gatherings, and has been central to the sociocultural life of downtown Srinagar. Yet, it receives almost no structured upkeep from municipal or sports authorities.
“No one from the sports department or Srinagar Municipal Corporation has visited us or asked us about the condition of the field,” says a local resident. “It’s like they’ve given up on downtown.”
The ground is technically under the jurisdiction of multiple agencies, including the Municipal Corporation and local police, but in practice, it has become a no-man’s land.
The Danger of Losing More Than a Game
The decline of such community spaces has social consequences. When youth are left without positive outlets like sports, the dangers of disillusionment, disengagement, or even delinquency loom large.
“We have talented kids here,” says a local coach who trains children informally at Eidgah. “They need proper facilities — not even professional-level turf — just a playable, safe, maintained space. That’s all.”
He adds, “You don’t know what it means for a boy to be seen and celebrated on a field. Take that away, and you take away more than a game. You take away a future.”
What Needs to Be Done
The demands are simple, level the ground, install basic drainage, maintain goalposts and add nets, assign local caretakers, and host regular community football events.
“This isn’t asking for a stadium,” Ehsan says. “We just want the ground to be safe enough so we can play every day without hurting ourselves.”
A Silent Cry from the Field
As the sun sets over the minarets of Eidgah and children walk home, jerseys muddied, shoes soaked, one question hangs in the damp air.
Why are we ignoring our future athletes?
The football ground at Eidgah is not just a patch of earth — it’s a forgotten promise. One that needs urgent revival, before the only thing left on that field is silence.
