BTC’s Bold Resolutions on a Legless Stool
By Sharan Kumar
The Bangalore Turf Club (BTC)
has passed a series of resolutions at its Extraordinary General Meeting held on
Saturday, each laden with ambitions of relocation, continued occupation,
financial concessions, and administrative authorisations. On paper, it looks
like a club attempting to take charge of its destiny. But scratch beneath the
surface, and the exercise begins to resemble a grand illusion of authority, one
that the Government of Karnataka is unlikely to entertain.
For decades, BTC has
functioned under the belief that its heritage, influence, and contribution to
the city’s social life give it a certain bargaining power. That belief may have
felt true in a different era. But in 2025, with no lease on the land it occupies,
no legal claim over the 60+ acres on Race Course Road, and a complete
dependency on the government for its license, utilities, and operational
permissions, the club is trying to negotiate from a position that barely
exists. It is, to put it gently, a body sitting on a stool with no legs,
convinced it is seated on a throne.
The resolutions passed by the
club reinforce this miscalculation. BTC seeks permission to continue racing at
the present site until an alternative location is ready. It wants concessions
on rent. It wants stamp duty waivers. It wants financial support during the
transition. It wants the government to honour terms, timelines, and
administrative conveniences that only an equal party in a negotiation could
demand. But BTC is not an equal party and the government knows this
better than anyone else.
At present, the club occupies
government land without a valid lease. Its operations continue at the pleasure
of the state, subject to annual licensing and political goodwill. The
explanatory statements annexed to the EGM notice themselves acknowledge that
the government has repeatedly communicated its intention to relocate the
racecourse. The club has no enforceable contractual right to insist otherwise.
Yet the resolutions, in their tone and content, are structured as though BTC
has bargaining leverage it demonstrably lacks.
Governments do not respond
kindly to wish lists. They respond even less kindly to entities that
overestimate their negotiating position. BTC’s resolutions read like demands
framed as requests, an approach that almost guarantees they will be “taken on
record” and quietly disregarded. The government’s stance on relocation is firm,
consistent, and legally defensible. BTC’s stance is hopeful, verbose, and
anchored more in sentiment than in statute.
The club’s leadership may
genuinely believe they are safeguarding members’ interests by passing elaborate
resolutions filled with clauses, authorisations, and conditional permissions.
In reality, they have merely formalised the disconnect between their aspirations
and their circumstances. The government is under no obligation to grant even a
fraction of what has been sought. And unless BTC recognises that it is
negotiating from the ground, not the saddle, it risks being brushed aside in
the bureaucratic breeze.
If the intention of the EGM
was to strengthen BTC’s position, the outcome has been quite the opposite. The
resolutions expose a club still operating with an outdated sense of
self-importance, unaware that its authority rests on borrowed ground, literally
and figuratively. Unless BTC adopts a pragmatic, humble, cooperative strategy
acknowledging the government’s dominion, its resolutions will continue to be
little more than paper exercises, destined to gather dust in a Secretariat
file.
One has to wait and see
whether the government takes kindly to these resolutions, which read less like
polite requests and more like outright demands. The timing could not be worse.
The government is navigating its own internal crisis, with the Chief Minister
under pressure from a deputy eyeing his chair. Known for his rigidity, he is
unlikely to be amused or indulgent when confronted with BTC’s assertive
wish-list.
In the end, the uncomfortable
truth remains: no resolution can stand firm when the institution that passed
it has no legs to stand on.
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