After roaming here and there, and even asking other shopkeepers in the market area, we still couldn’t find our supposed destination. So, we decided to return to our car and drive to some other place for lunch.
Suddenly, a stray dog jumped on me, catching hold of my pant. While I managed to free myself immediately — with people around shooing away the dog — I sustained a few scratches on my leg. I immediately rang up a doctor in Gandhinagar, who advised me to take an initial injection in Ahmedabad right away, which I did. I took three more shots on my return to Gandhinagar.
I have never been comfortable with dogs — pet or stray — and since that day, I’ve been even more wary of the canine species. I was reminded of this incident recently while reading, over the last few weeks, about the stray dog menace in WhatsApp groups of housing societies in Vejalpur, Ahmedabad, where I now live.
In one such group, there has been an animated discussion on how to “prevent the entry of stray dogs” into their housing society. This society houses relatively better-off residents compared to neighbouring ones. Photographs have been uploaded — and continue to be shared — showing stray dogs roaming freely inside the premises. Suggestions have included “enhancing” the height of fences with barbed wire at entry points. This was first proposed two months ago, and while everyone agreed, no action has been taken. The stray dog menace continues unabated.
One resident wrote: “Two or three dogs have entered the society premises over the past few days. No matter how much we try to chase them, they are not getting caught. When we attempt to catch them, they slip away — either running down a staircase into the basement parking or hiding under a vehicle — disappearing as if by magic. Even after considerable effort and running around, we have not been successful in catching them.” Someone even posted a photograph of a stray dog sitting atop a car.
Another person suggested calling the municipal dog-catching van. While wire fencing should be installed, he added, “Until then, please cooperate by not keeping dustbins containing food waste outside, especially on the ground floor and in basement areas. Do not throw food items or any other wet waste into the dustbins there.”
Someone even shared the municipality helpline number (155303) for calling the dog-catching van, urging everyone to phone and “generate pressure” on the authorities so that it arrives sooner.
Others disagreed, arguing that even if the municipal van catches two or three stray dogs, “it’s no guarantee that dogs won’t roam here in the future.” One pointed out: “The guards should be asked to check how other society guards deal with these issues. Their supervisors from the company should be called. They are not paid to chit-chat and watch mobile phones.”
Indeed, in many middle-class societies, it’s not uncommon to see stray dogs everywhere — sitting on car roofs, waiting for animal-loving residents to feed them milk or leftover food. The usual explanation from such residents is: “The poor things suffer because they can’t speak.” This often invites ire from others. In one case, a police complaint was filed after a street dog bit a child.
Meanwhile, news came that the Supreme Court has directed that all stray dogs in Delhi-NCR be picked up within eight weeks and housed in dedicated shelters to be set up by the concerned authorities. The court instructed municipal bodies and other agencies to work in coordination to create adequate shelter facilities within the stipulated time frame and ensure that canines are removed from public spaces. It further ruled that no stray dog should be released back onto the streets once housed in a shelter. Delhi’s government and municipal authorities were directed to “start picking up stray dogs from all localities.”
I wondered — why only Delhi-NCR? Why not Ahmedabad, the political karmabhoomi of Prime Minister Narendra Modi? But I also asked myself whether such an order could realistically be implemented in a city like Ahmedabad, where the stray dog menace once took the life of a well-known tycoon — the owner of the Wagh Bakri tea brand — sparking a huge furore and prompting authorities to promise action. Nothing happened thereafter.
Soon after, I came across a detailed social media post expressing “anguish” at the judge for “inciting the public authorities in Delhi to forget the existing rules, pick up dogs and throw them in shelters.” The post quoted the bench headed by Justice JB Pardiwala, which ordered that “all street dogs in Delhi/NCR must be summarily lifted from the streets and taken to dog shelters forthwith,” directing the Delhi government and civic bodies of Gurugram, Noida, and Ghaziabad to “carry out this task in tandem” and “ignore” any legal obstacles.
Criticising the order, the post said: “We always thought Supreme Court judges are supposed to uphold the law unless they declare it ultra vires. But here is a judge telling civic authorities to just ignore the law, if any, that comes in the way of implementing the order!”
It further stated: “Take a look at the order — it is just like a knee-jerk reaction of a loudmouth on the street, blissfully ignorant of ground reality. There are an estimated 10 lakh street dogs in Delhi and zero existing shelters.”
The post added: “As per Justice Pardiwala’s firman, NCR bodies will have to create well-equipped shelters, with all facilities for dog care, for 5,000 stray dogs in the next two months. So where will the 10 lakh dogs picked up from the streets go? Just do the math — at this rate, 30,000 strays would be accommodated in a year, meaning it would take more than 30 years to complete the task, assuming all dogs are sterilised and no further procreation takes place!”
Ironically, the post recalled, this was the same judge who, as a Gujarat High Court judge, “had to eat humble pie” after making gratuitous anti-reservation remarks while refusing to quash sedition charges against Hardik Patel, then a thorn in the side of the BJP government. When Opposition MPs moved for his impeachment, the judge quickly expunged his anti-reservation comments.
It’s not just social media users opposing the order. Top Bollywood actor John Abraham wrote to Chief Justice of India BR Gavai against the stray dog removal order, calling it “impractical and inhumane.” He pointed out that the World Health Organisation and the Animal Birth Control (ABC) Dog Rules, 2023, require that dogs be sterilised, vaccinated, and returned to their home areas. The actor urged compassion, science-based solutions, and compliance with Indian law, warning that removing Delhi’s estimated 19 lakh community dogs could worsen public health risks.
The order has sparked a wider debate online, with several film industry figures — including Janhvi Kapoor, Varun Dhawan, Vir Das, Adivi Sesh, and Siddharth Anand — reacting on social media and writing to the authorities.
I am left wondering: what’s the way out? A few years ago, an NGO activist in Ahmedabad worked with city authorities to sterilise street dogs. “We catch them, sterilise them, cut a small portion of their ear for identification, and set them free,” the activist had told me. But would this stop the stray dog menace or satisfy middle-class residents? I still have no answer.
Comments
Here in Gandhinagar in my society there are 45 to 50 dogs. Every mid night we are experiencing dog fights.
Besides dogs, cows and monkeys are the regular visiters of our society !
This is not the problem of my society but of the entire Gandhinagar city - the state capital city !
The Indian Supreme Court’s ruling on stray dogs is being framed as a response to “public nuisance.” But this framing hides a deeper, more dangerous project.
The removal of stray dogs is not just about animals: it is a rehearsal for deciding which bodies are allowed to exist in the nation’s streets, parks, and neighborhoods. It is a testing ground for the machinery of erasure, discipline, and disappearance.
This project is informed by long-standing discourses on pollution, disease, poverty, and nuisance: each shaped by caste and brahmanical supremacist ideologies. These discourses have always worked to justify who belongs in public spaces and who must be kept out.
Today, the target is dogs. Tomorrow, it will be Muslims, Dalits, Adivasis, hijras, and all others whose presence disrupts the sanitized vision of the nation imagined by right-wing, Brahmanical, patriarchal power.
This is how state violence operates: it begins with those easiest to dehumanize, those already cast as dirty, dangerous, or undesirable. Once the mechanism is normalized, it expands until it can erase anyone who doesn’t fit the nationalist order.
Erasure is never only about the first target. It is about building and perfecting the tools to make all “undesirable” bodies invisible.