New Delhi
—
One by one, they emerge from their slumber: Dholu, an energetic young male with a noticeable limp; Oldie, the greying elder who loves a belly rub; and Snoopy, a golden-eyed boy who patiently waits his turn.
They’re not summoned by a whistle but the familiar smell of khichdi, a traditional dish of rice and lentils. Himanshi Varma carries two large bags through this New Delhi neighborhood, where in the chaos of the Indian capital, her evening ritual begins.
For seven years, Varma has fed the city’s roaming strays – a silent pact she’s made with these homeless dogs after adopting a puppy born under the staircase of her home.
Using her own savings, she has paid for the sterilization of more than 500 animals and found homes for hundreds more. “There’s no count and there’s no end,” she said as the pack of “Indies,” as Indian strays are affectionately known, play in the nearby grass.
For a period, a quiet desperation cast a shadow on Varma’s daily act of compassion.
A Supreme Court order on August 12 declared that their home – the streets of New Delhi – was no longer theirs to roam. The court, taking up the matter on its own following alarming reports of dog attacks, including where children had been mauled to death, had ordered that all stray dogs in the capital territory be rounded up and permanently locked in shelters within eight weeks.
The announcement caused panic among animal lovers and welfare organizations, who argued the city had nowhere near the infrastructure to house its vast stray population, estimated to be about 1 million.
But on Friday, a wave of relief swept through their ranks. After a review by a special three-judge bench, the court issued a stay, modifying its previous directive. In its new ruling, it clarified that stray dogs picked up by authorities are to be sterilized and immunized, and then released back to the same area. Only animals found to be rabid or overly aggressive are to be kept from the streets.
The ruling applies to all of India, the court said, while also banning the public distribution of food to dogs and calling for the creation of designated areas for feeding.
“I think it’s a very thoughtful verdict,” said veterinarian Dr. Sarungbam Yaiphabi Devi.
“It looks like the court definitely kept the public pulse in mind because so many people came out across India for their neighborhood dogs”
The original intervention from India’s highest court was both swift and decisive – and controversial in a country with an ingrained cultural respect for animals.
It is illegal to euthanize healthy strays in India, and a 2001 law states strays should be picked up, neutered, and vaccinated against rabies, before being released.
While humane in principle, this approach has been challenging to implement effectively on a national scale. The sheer number of dogs overwhelms the limited funding and veterinary infrastructure in the world’s most populous country, meaning sterilization rates cannot keep pace with the dogs’ rapid breeding cycle.
As a result, an estimated 62 million stray dogs – a figure reported by the Press Trust of India – roam the nation’s streets, neighborhoods, slums and villages.
Many of these animals live in harmony with humans. But bites and fatal attacks have made people wary – along with the risk of infection.
Rabies, a vaccine-preventable disease which can spread to humans if they are bitten or scratched by an infected animal, is almost always fatal unless a series of jabs can be administered soon after someone is bitten.
Dogs are the source of most human rabies deaths, according to the World Health Organization (WHO), and contribute up to 99% of all rabies transmissions to humans. India is endemic for rabies, the WHO said, accounting for 36% of the world’s rabies deaths.
“When I’m walking home late at night, there’s always a horde of dogs that I have to walk past,” said Delhi-based medical student Shriya Ramani. “If I have food left in my tiffin (food container), they smell it and then they jump on you, and that’s extremely scary.”
She believes Delhi’s dog population must be controlled, but that it “should be done in a humane way.”
Arjun Sen, the father of a 12-year-old boy who was bitten, feels stray dogs should be removed the streets “as soon as possible.”
“This time, my son was bitten. Tomorrow, it can be someone else’s child,” he told Reuters. “This is a big problem.”
Fears about dog attacks surged after the 2023 fatal mauling of a four-year-old boy in Hyderabad, an attack captured on CCTV that horrified the nation and sent shockwaves through media and political circles, sparking a frantic search for solutions.
Some have attempted to challenge existing laws to better manage numbers. In 2016, a campaign to cull stray dogs in the southern state of Kerala gained traction after a series of bites, but it was met with furious opposition from animal rights activists.
The controversial plan never materialized, illustrating the deadlock between public safety concerns and animal welfare advocacy.
Devi, the veterinarian who cares for the city’s strays, struggled to see how the Supreme Court’s initial order could have been enacted.
“The order was very unexpected,” she said. “Also unwarranted and impractical.”
Devi runs a small animal sterilization unit in Delhi that can house up to 100 strays on a temporary basis. Already lacking funding, it is congested and in need of repair. She was worried that other centers like hers couldn’t have handled the hundreds of thousands of dogs the court had ordered to be picked up.
Even larger shelters are at capacity.
Just outside Delhi, in the satellite city of Gurugram, the Janm Foundation’s animal shelter illustrates the crisis on the front lines.
Meenakshi Bareja cares for 78 dogs here, and the shelter is chronically understaffed and underfunded. The financial strain creates a near-constant state of panic.
“We need 500,000 rupees ($5,700) a month, and we always have a shortage,” Bareja said.
The stakes are visible in every kennel. All the dogs are rescued from the street, but many cannot be simply neutered and released. They need long-term care for injuries like a large tumor on a hind leg, partial paralysis from a suspected hit-and-run, or a deep, painful gash on a paw.
A lifelong fear of dogs made Bareja an unlikely candidate for a job at an animal shelter, but the pandemic left her with few choices. What began as a reluctant paycheck slowly transformed into a profound sense of purpose. Her passion was so infectious that her husband, Naresh, joined her. When he whistles, the dogs they care for come bounding forward, their tails wagging in a frenzy of affection.
“Gurugram has developed a lot,” he said of the city of more than 800,000. “But the dogs can’t leave their old living spots.”
More than 100 people braved heavy rain in Mumbai to protest the Supreme Court’s original order last week.
On Friday, after weeks of stress, Varma, the community feeder, said she was “on top of the world.”
Though she has questions about the revised ruling, including what will qualify as an aggressive dog, the decision is a reprieve for the street dogs she lovingly calls her “kids.”
“All that matters is that our kids’ stomachs are filled up,” she said. “They should be treated, vaccinated, and sterilized.”
