Stray dog menace in Kashmir has made people’s lives a hell. Civil society must act now!

By: Dr Fiaz Maqbool Fazili

Mr. Bukhari’s (name changed) pre-dawn walk for Fajr prayers in the Hyderpora area ended not in spiritual solace but in a nightmare. Holding a stick, the 70-year-old faced a snarling pack of stray dogs. His hesitation cost him dearly — a bite on the leg that left physical scars and psychological wounds. The agonizing rabies vaccine series, the sleepless nights, and the fear of stepping outside haunt him daily. He is not alone. From Rawalpora near Hakim Bagh’s littered alleys to Srinagar’s public squares, Jawahar Nagar, Khayam Chowk, etc., millions now navigate urban spaces under siege by uncontrolled canine populations. This crisis mocks our “smart city” ambitions, demanding urgent, humane solutions.

Srinagar’s stray dog epidemic has transformed some public spaces into zones of fear, with areas like Jawahar Nagar, Rawalpora, and Khayam Chowk bearing the brunt of relentless attacks. The city’s 91,000+ stray dogs—roughly one canine per 12 residents—thrive on mismanaged waste and inadequate sterilization, creating a public health emergency marked by trauma and systemic failure.

The anatomy of fear is compounded by urban life under siege due to the collapse of public safety nets. Morning rituals like walks and Fajr prayers are now high-risk activities requiring defensive tools—sticks, stones, or avoidance tactics. Seeing people of all ages carrying sticks and dog-deterrent devices demands an answer—why, after all these years, is there still no solution to this ongoing fear of dogs? Mr. Bukhari’s experience epitomizes how fear restricts fundamental freedoms, fracturing community trust in urban governance.

Using AI search engines on demographics (open to correction from official sources) and area-specific menace, Jawahar Nagar (South Zone) records show 323 dog bite cases in this zone, predominantly targeting males (73.06%). Residents face daily ambushes near garbage clusters, with evening walks becoming high-risk endeavours. In 2023, a single rabid dog mauled 11 people in adjacent South Kashmir areas, exposing the rapid transmission threat in densely populated neighbourhoods. Rawalpora (South Zone), a recent inclusion as part of Srinagar’s most vulnerable sector, is a commercial-residential hub where packs hunt near open waste dumps. Leg bites (63.45% of cases) force pedestrians into defensive postures, with many carrying sticks or abandoning morning routines.

A 2024 survey noted “44 bites in a single day” across Srinagar, with Rawalpora residents reporting “children chased near playgrounds” and garbage sites. Khayam Chowk (East Zone) reported 197 bites, with 82.23% of victims being adult males. Evening attacks (53.80%) coincide with prayer times, trapping residents between religious duties and safety concerns. Category 3 bites (deep tissue wounds) dominate here (76.14%), requiring urgent immunoglobulin—a treatment inconsistently available at SMHS Hospital.

In the anatomy of a crisis, we, the Group of Concerned Citizens (GCC), or other civil society groups, should take a call on public education and awareness on solid waste disposal. Garbage-fuelled proliferation, uncollected poultry waste (40,000 kg daily), and meat scraps sustain stray populations. At Hyderpora Bypass, in front of Jamkash Motors Srinagar, a campus dumping site attracts dogs that stalk visitors to the car showroom, at times forcing customers to flee. Healthcare gaps remain.

Despite 8,000+ bite cases being dealt with appropriately at SMHS Hospital (2023–2024), there are occasions when we face vaccine shortages. Only 67.51% seek same-day care, risking rabies progression. The human cost: beyond the bite, an abnormal lifestyle is under psychological siege. Residents like college students describe being “chased repeatedly,” breeding generational cynophobia.

Elders abandon Fajr prayers after witnessing attacks like Mr. Bukhari’s injury, or after seeing a picture of a potentially fatal neck injury shared with me by a victim. Cynophobia: children develop lifelong dog phobias; adults report PTSD-like symptoms, reliving attacks during routine walks. Social stigmatization: facial scars trigger discrimination, with victims reporting job loss and social isolation. Legal claims cite “loss of confidence,” with settlements reaching $250,000 for severe disfigurement.

Economic burdens are invisible wounds. Treatment costs (₹100–₹700 per consultation), even at the only hospital equipped with ARCV facilities, crush low-income families, while rabies vaccines—often inconsistently available—and reconstructive surgeries for severe bites drain resources.

The way forward is that we, the citizens, must feel responsible and dutiful towards our surroundings and a hygienic environment, which complements efforts to foster urban planning reforms. At the top of the list is the waste management revolution. Availability and accessibility to hygienic automated bins, frequent waste collection, and composting reduce food sources. Cities like Istanbul cut stray populations by 75% through waste control. Sterilization scalability: NGOs like Humane Society International aid low-cost ABC (Animal Birth Control) programs. Targets: sterilize 80% of females in 3 years to curb population growth. Community empowerment through behavioural education has to take off. School programs must teach “calm retreat” from strays, avoiding eye contact, and not disturbing feeding dogs.

Morning walkers and residents using sticks defensively could instead use ultrasonic deterrents. Legal recourse strengthening has to be there to ensure victims access compensation via streamlined claims where pet dogs are the culprits. Enforcement of strict liability laws must hold owners accountable, as is the case outside Jammu & Kashmir—a model for regions with pet strays.

Mr. Bukhari’s scars—like the 4.5 million bite wounds inflicted globally each year—are monuments to municipal indifference. Yet solutions exist: from Turkey’s waste-management triumphs to India’s ABC successes, proven models await replication. Our cities stand at a crossroads: invest in humane, integrated strategies—vaccination drives, sterilization, and waste reform—or surrender public spaces to fear. The Fajr walk must be reclaimed not with sticks, but with science, solidarity, and political will. When children’s faces and elders’ prayers are hostage to roaming packs, “smart city” rhetoric becomes a cruel joke.

The time for action is now; every bite is a policy failure etched in flesh. Srinagar’s streets—once vibrant with commerce and prayer—now echo with barks and screams. Jawahar Nagar’s alleys, Rawalpora’s markets, and Khayam Chowk’s squares symbolize gap paralysis. Without public cooperation on waste reform (sealed bins and scientific disposal), the time for excuses—whether we as citizens or those responsible for our safety not being environmentally sensitive—is over. Sterilize 80% of female strays in three years. Deploy Malawi’s app-driven vaccines. Make sealed garbage disposal mandatory and penalize dumping. Or admit that Srinagar prioritizes stray dogs over scarred children and silenced prayers.

Let Mr. Bukhari’s neck scars become the emblem of change—not monuments to municipal betrayal. Fajr calls must ring without fear; our streets must belong to people, not packs. The solution is known. The will is all that’s missing. And without 24-hour ARCs, this epidemic will keep scarring bodies and souls. When fear overrides faith and routine, the “smart city” dream becomes a cruel illusion.