Who’s Paying the Price for India’s Stray Dog Crisis? Not the Activists, That’s for Sure -By Anupam Srivastava

 

Who’s Paying the Price for India’s Stray Dog Crisis? Not the Activists, That’s for Sure

By Anupam Srivastava 

It starts as a jog through the neighborhood. It ends at the hospital.

This story repeats itself across India, from the narrow lanes of Lucknow to the upscale colonies of Bengaluru, where stray dogs roam in packs — sometimes silently, sometimes snarling, sometimes biting. Every year, millions of Indians are attacked by strays. And yet, any effort to remove them from public spaces is met not with relief but with outrage — not from residents, but from a small, powerful group of dog lovers and self-proclaimed activists.

The recent Supreme Court directive allowing authorities to remove stray dogs from public places has ignited fierce backlash from animal rights activists. Their argument: that these dogs, despite their numbers and frequent aggression, should remain on the streets under protection. But this raises an uncomfortable question — why should ordinary citizens be forced to pay for the ideals of a vocal, elite minority?

A Public Health Crisis in Slow Motion

In 2024, India recorded over 3.7 million dog bites. That’s roughly 350 bites every hour. A staggering number by any standard — but it's only part of the story.

A government-backed survey in 2022–2023 estimated over 7 million bites annually, with most linked to strays. These attacks aren’t just painful or traumatic. They’re often fatal. India suffers between 18,000–20,000 rabies deaths annually — accounting for a shocking 36% of the global death toll. That number might be even higher, given the sheer volume of cases that go unreported in rural and peri-urban areas.

And yet, despite the hard data and disturbing imagery that circulates almost weekly — videos of children being mauled, elderly people knocked down, cyclists chased into traffic — there’s resistance to action. Why?

The Activist Bubble

The people most affected by stray dogs aren’t the ones with time to write op-eds, file petitions, or gather in candlelight vigils. They’re delivery workers, municipal sweepers, children walking to school, senior citizens out for morning strolls — in short, those without privilege, voice, or protection.

It is a cruel irony that those advocating to keep stray dogs on the streets often live far from them. Gated communities, dog-friendly apartments, private cars — these luxuries buffer many activists from the reality outside their walls. Meanwhile, people in lower-income neighborhoods, who must walk or cycle daily, face the direct consequences of unchecked canine aggression.

The humanitarian angle here isn’t about the dogs. It’s about the humans.

A Culture of Normalised Chaos

Name one modern city — London, Tokyo, New York, Singapore — where stray dogs chase vehicles, bark through the night, or roam school premises. You can’t. Because in functional urban spaces, animals aren’t left to fend for themselves on the streets. They’re sheltered, adopted, or euthanised when dangerous.

In India, however, we’ve normalised the abnormal. Stray dogs have joined the pantheon of freely roaming animals, alongside cows, bulls, and monkeys — sometimes out of compassion, often out of apathy. But compassion without regulation is chaos. And the cost of that chaos is human lives.

In cities like Lucknow, locals now refer to entire streets as “Kuttey Wali Gali” — not as a joke, but as a caution. In Karnataka, as of August 10, 2025, there have already been 286,000 dog bite cases this year, including 5,652 bites in just one week. Twenty-six people have died of rabies — in just eight months.

Is this what empathy is supposed to look like?

Follow the Money?

There’s also a murkier side to the outrage. Some critics have begun asking an uncomfortable but logical question: Are certain activist groups inadvertently (or intentionally) serving commercial interests?

India imports and distributes millions of doses of anti-rabies vaccines each year. Could it be possible that the endless preservation of the stray population is feeding into a larger profit cycle — from pet food manufacturers to pharmaceutical suppliers?

No one’s offering direct proof — yet. But in the absence of transparent policy discussions, the suspicions fester. When public health data points one way, but advocacy moves in the opposite direction, people start asking: Who benefits from the chaos?

Time for a Rational Middle Ground

This is not a call for cruelty. No one — resident or activist — wants to see dogs suffer. But real empathy demands solutions, not sentiment. Sterilisation efforts have failed on the scale required. Vaccination coverage is uneven. Shelters are underfunded. And removal or euthanasia of dangerous animals, though legal under existing laws, is met with fierce resistance.

We need to build safe, humane sheltering systems. Fund public adoption programs. Create better urban planning that doesn’t leave animals behind. And yes, in cases where dogs become dangerous and unadoptable, the state must retain the right to act in the interest of public safety.

Because here's the truth: keeping stray dogs on the streets isn’t kindness — it’s abdication. Abdication of responsibility, of compassion toward both humans and animals, and of the vision of a modern, safe India.

And until we face that honestly, the bites will continue. So will the deaths. And all of us — not just the elite activists — will pay the price.