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India is facing a rapidly escalating public health and civic safety crisis with the unchecked rise in stray dog populations. This is not a story of anecdotal fear or exaggerated outrage, but a crisis rooted in data and played out daily in clinics, on the streets, and in headlines.
In 2024 alone, more than 37 lakh dog bite incidents were reported across the country, with 54 confirmed human deaths. Another five lakh bites from other animals added to the public health burden. Most alarming, more than five lakh reported bites involved children under 15, who suffer a disproportionate share of fatalities, along with the elderly. Experts warn the real toll is likely far higher.
According to the 20th Livestock Census in 2019, India had over 1.53 crore stray dogs, a figure widely believed to be a gross underestimation due to limited urban coverage and inconsistent enumeration practices. Recent estimates suggest that India is home to about 6 crore free‑ranging dogs, a figure corroborated by the State of Pet Homelessness Index and wildlife surveys on stray dog impacts across the subcontinent.
Public health consequences have grown sharply with this surge. Government data shows that over 30 lakh dog bite cases were reported in 2023, up from 17 lakh in 2021, marking a nearly 80 per cent spike in just two years. These alarming figures come at a time of continued vaccine shortages and rising fatalities, especially among children. The reality is grim: an epidemic is unfolding in the shadows of underfunded policies and fragmented implementation.
In several Indian cities, public frustration is nearing a breaking point. In Pune, the municipal veterinary department claims a 42% decline in stray dog populations due to sterilisation drives. Yet, bite cases jumped from 16,569 in 2022 to nearly 26,000 by 2024.
As per a statement in the parliament, India reported more than 4.2 lakh dog bites in a single year – about 1,100 cases daily – leading to acute shortages of anti-rabies vaccines.
Kerala has also witnessed a sharp spike. In just four months between January and April 2025, 1.31 lakh bite cases were registered, resulting in 16 fatalities, including some victims who had already been vaccinated.
The cruel irony is evident. Even when key interventions like sterilisation and vaccination are attempted, they have failed to prevent deaths, revealing critical weaknesses in scale, coverage, and system design.
The reason for this disconnect is not a lack of compassion. India has never been short on goodwill toward animals. The real problem lies in a systemic policy and governance failure. The Animal Birth Control (ABC) Rules, first introduced in 2001 and updated in 2023, lay down a framework based on sterilisation and vaccination while explicitly prohibiting culling or relocation.
This humane model, endorsed by global health bodies including the World Health Organisation (WHO), works only when implemented flawlessly. Experts agree that at least 70% of the stray dog population must be sterilised and vaccinated consistently over time to bring down their numbers.
Yet most Indian cities fall far short of this threshold. Ernakulam, for example, has seen its estimated stray dog population rise from 18,000 in 2019 to nearly 40,000 in 2024. Still, it operates with just three overburdened ABC centres. In Madurai, home to more than 38,000 strays, the city corporation plans to sterilise just 5,000 dogs in 2025, even as bite incidents have more than tripled since 2018. The arithmetic does not inspire confidence.
The core issue is structural, as responsibilities are scattered and accountability is absent. Local municipal bodies are tasked with population control. The Ministry of Animal Husbandry sets rules and distributes vaccines. The Health Ministry oversees rabies surveillance and bite care. Yet at the operational level, the catch–neuter–release mechanism falters due to outdated contracts, limited staffing, funding constraints, and the absence of real-time data.
The Supreme Court-appointed committee, led by Justice Siri Jagan to oversee compensation for dog bite victims, has seen limited progress and little visible enforcement of its mandate. Even Delhi, under pressure from public outcry and court orders, has only recently begun moving toward a more balanced stray dog policy. Similarly, last year in March, the Jaipur Municipal Corporation-Greater (JMC-G) of Rajasthan spent over Rs 2.1 crore on stray dog management contracts, yet continues to lead the country in bite-related cases.
Despite this bleak picture, there is proof that well-executed interventions can work. Chennai remains the gold standard. Their ABC–AR (Animal Birth Control–Anti Rabies) programme, launched by the Blue Cross of India in the mid-1990s, succeeded in eliminating human rabies deaths by 2007. This success did not result from aggressive culling or ad hoc measures but from sustained investment in sterilisation, vaccination, and community engagement. The model has been emulated in other cities, though rarely with the same level of commitment.
In July 2025, authorities in Assam’s Sivasagar district initiated a focused dog vaccination drive, immunising more than 100 dogs on the first day as part of efforts to curb the spread of rabies. These interventions matter. India accounts for 36% of global rabies deaths—an estimated 20,000 annually. The path to reversing that toll is already known. The question is whether we will choose to walk it.
Meanwhile, societal tensions continue to rise. Animal rights organisations argue that relocation or culling leads to the migration of unsterilised dogs into the vacated area, exacerbating the problem. They warn that solutions that ignore ecological behaviour are counterproductive. On the other hand, public anger is mounting.
In Kerala, “Stray Dog Free” activists are calling for amendments to animal cruelty laws to allow for stricter interventions. In Bengal, local clubs, NGOs, and feeder networks collaborate to feed strays and coordinate sterilisation, but they too are demanding a more structured and humane policy. The law, as it stands, pleases neither side.
In April 2024, the Karnataka government announced a policy to encourage the community feeding of stray dogs in designated public spaces across Bengaluru, aiming to promote coexistence and reduce aggression in street dog populations. While this move aligns with animal welfare advocacy and interim Supreme Court guidelines, it has drawn criticism from several RWAs and residents who argue that it fails to address core issues like overpopulation and bite incidents.
Bengaluru is home to an estimated 3.1 lakh stray dogs, according to the 2023 Animal Husbandry Department census, and frequently ranks among Indian cities with high bite-related complaints. A BBMP report from 2023 noted over 25,000 dog bite cases annually, yet the city’s Animal Birth Control (ABC) coverage remains patchy, with only 40% of wards fully covered.
Experts warn that without ramping up vaccination and sterilisation drives, feeding initiatives alone may inadvertently aggravate territorial behaviour among dogs. The debate in Bengaluru thus reflects the broader national challenge: how to balance compassion with public health and enforce policy through both humane and scientifically sound means.
So, how do we move forward? The lessons are clear and urgent. Stray dog control must no longer be treated as a municipal afterthought. It must be recognised as a national public health priority. While the National Rabies Control Programme and the updated ABC Rules provide a starting framework, they need to be supported by a high-level task force empowered to track, audit, and supervise the implementation of ABC–AR strategies. This means collecting real-time data: city-wise sterilisation numbers, coverage ratios, vaccine availability by district, bite-to-death ratios, and lapses that demand corrective action.
Second, we must close the gap in funding and infrastructure. Municipalities should receive earmarked budgets for sterilisation, deploy trained catch–neuter teams, and expand access to mobile ABC units. Cities like Madurai, which have allocated Rs 50 lakh for a new sterilisation centre, show promise, but similar efforts must be replicated across urban India. The success of any infrastructure investment hinges on a consistent supply of medicines, staffing, logistical support, and transparency in outcomes.
Third, public engagement must be a core strategy. Stray dogs are not random anomalies but a part of urban ecosystems, feeding off garbage, defending territory, and responding to human behaviours. Field studies show that their aggression and distribution are influenced by food availability and human interaction. This is why reforming waste management, regulating feeding practices, and investing in public education are essential. Cities must formally recognise community feeders and local volunteers. In Delhi, NGOs report that over 90% of dog-related conflicts are resolved by involving local feeders. Their role must be institutionalised, not ignored.
Fourth, our surveillance systems for bites and vaccine delivery must be urgently improved. In Delhi, institutions such as the Safdarjung Hospital handle over 500 bite cases daily, yet 70% of victims fail to complete their post-exposure prophylaxis. In rural areas, this drop-off is worse. Kerala’s State Human Rights Commission has called for a coordinated task force involving virologists, public health departments, and municipalities to tackle this emergency. Anti-rabies vaccination must be made free, widely available, and promoted through educational outreach, especially in remote districts.
Finally, our legal and enforcement frameworks must be recalibrated. While the ABC Rules rightly prohibit mass culling, they do allow for the euthanasia of diagnosed rabid or dangerous animals. But such powers must be exercised under clear protocols with judicial oversight. The Delhi High Court has asked for the creation of shelter–rehabilitation policies. Now it must ensure that such shelters are not dumping grounds but well-regulated facilities. Supreme Court directives on ABC implementation must transition from courtrooms to actual ground-level enforcement.
India’s stray dog crisis is no longer a nuisance to be brushed aside—it is a full-fledged public health and child safety emergency. But it is also solvable. We have models that work. We have field-tested strategies. We have court orders and expert recommendations. What we lack is urgency and coordination. For every child who lives with trauma, for every family that can't access post-bite care, for every city caught between compassion and chaos: the time for half-measures has ended.
India must now act with clarity, empathy, and scientific rigour. The cost of delay is measured in lives. The alternative is not only possible but long overdue.
Amal Chandra, author of The Essential: On Healthcare & Pandemic Management, is a policy analyst and columnist.