SUBUHI KHAN
It was 2023 when I came to Srinagar, Kashmir — not for the first time, but this time with eyes opened to a different kind of crisis. The Valley is spoken of in terms of conflict, tourism, politics, and poetry. But beneath the chinar trees and the postcard Dal Lake, another crisis bleeds quietly every single day. The stray dogs. Hundreds of them. On every corner, in every lane, outside every shuttered shop at night. Fighting for scraps. Fighting for survival. Their bodies ravaged by mange, hair falling off in clumps, raw skin exposed to the Himalayan wind. Parasites feast on them while they limp on broken legs from traffic accidents. Puppies freeze to death in winter. And I thought: Who is speaking for them?
I did what most people would do. I Googled. I found the NGOs everyone was talking about — Kashmir Animal Welfare Foundation (KAWF), Animal Aid Kashmir (AAK), Animal Rescue Kashmir (ARK). Their Instagram pages were immaculate. Reels of volunteers cradling injured pups. Slow-motion videos of dogs being fed, set to emotional music. “Rescued,” “Saved,” “Forever Home.” The comments poured in: “Angels,” “God bless you,” “Donate now.” They had ambulances, they said. Food drives. Medical camps. Shelters under construction.
So I called. I reported a case — a dog near Rajbagh with its leg crushed, bone exposed, lying in a drain. They responded. They sent an ambulance, food, meds, two volunteers. I was impressed. I posted about it. I told people, “See, something is being done.” But then I stayed. And I kept reporting cases. That’s when the nightmare began.
The second dog I reported was near Dalgate. Mange so severe it looked like burned skin. “We’ll forward it,” they said. I called again the next day. “Check with X, he’s handling that area.” X didn’t pick up. The third case was a litter of pups near Hazratbal, mother dead, pups crying for two days. “Someone else will handle.” No one handled. Every call ended with deflection. Every WhatsApp message was seen, rarely answered. The same ambulances that arrived on day one vanished. The vets stopped answering. The food never came.
I started documenting. Dates, times, names, phone numbers, screenshots. The NGOs claiming land for shelters, claiming thousands of rescues, claiming round-the-clock helplines… where was it all? On the ground, there were no ambulances running daily routes. No vets on call. No feeding drives in the inner lanes where dogs starved behind shrines and schools. Just empty words, and more videos.
So I dug deeper. I filed RTIs. What I found was worse than apathy. Some NGOs weren’t even registered. Some had zero paperwork with the Animal Welfare Board of India (AWBI), which is mandatory for any organization claiming to do animal welfare. Some had FCRA licenses but no audited reports of how foreign donations were spent. Some had land allotted in their name for “animal shelters” years ago — land that still sat empty, no construction, no dogs, just weeds.
I filed complaints with the Deputy Commissioner Srinagar. I wrote to the Crime Branch. One year of follow-ups. One year of being told “matter is under process.” One year of watching dogs die in the same spots while donation links stayed active. The only result: SSP Srinagar was finally directed to investigate.
And now I ask, with everything I’ve seen: Who speaks for Kashmir’s voiceless? Is it the NGOs minting money on viral videos? The ones who post a 30-second reel of a dog being lifted into a van, cut to a “donate” sticker, and raise lakhs overnight — while that same dog dies three days later because there’s no post-op care? Is it the founders who fly to conferences on “animal rights in conflict zones” while Srinagar’s lanes remain open-air graveyards? Or is it the people who post “Justice for X dog” when tragedy strikes — a dog beaten, a dog poisoned, a dog run over — and get 10,000 shares in outrage… but do nothing the other 364 days? The same people who walk past the limping, starving ones because there’s no camera around?
Kashmir’s strays don’t need performative grief. They don’t need candlelight marches after a viral cruelty video. They need food. Daily. They need meds. Anti-mange, anti-parasite, antibiotics for wounds. They need action. Picked up, treated, sterilized, vaccinated, sheltered if they can’t be released. Instead, they get bureaucracy.
Look at the Tengpora ABC Centre. Yes, sterilizations happen. That’s the one functional cog in a broken machine. But what happens to the dogs that can’t be released? The paralyzed ones. The blind ones. The ones with distemper who need isolation. The ABC model says “catch, neuter, vaccinate, release.” But release where? To die on the same street that broke them? There is no government-run shelter for non-releasable dogs in Srinagar. Not one. The result: they’re dumped back anyway, or they die in cages. Dogs huddled in damp cages, shivering, infection spreading from one to the next. No vet on site. No records of treatment. But the donation appeals never stop. “Help us survive the winter.” “We’re out of food.” The same appeal, every month, every year. Where does the money go?
Volunteers risk their lives for strays. I’ve met them. College students who spend their pocket money on rice and chicken. Old women who hide dogs in their courtyards because neighbors threaten to poison them. Men who drive injured dogs to vets in Baramulla because Srinagar has none available at night. They are the only thing standing between life and death for these animals. But how long can individuals carry the burden of a systemic failure? How long till the government steps in — not with press releases, but with infrastructure?
Here’s what Kashmir’s strays actually need, and what no one is providing at scale: A real, functional government shelter with veterinary ICU, isolation wards, and space for paralyzed/disabled dogs. Not a shed. A hospital. Transparency from NGOs. Quarterly public audits. AWBI registration numbers on every post. Geotagged proof of daily feeding and medical rounds, not just rescue reels. Accountability for land. If land was allotted for a shelter in 2018, where is the shelter in 2026? Either build it or return the land. A 24×7 municipal veterinary response, the way there is for humans. A dog with a broken spine at 2 AM should not have to wait till a volunteer wakes up. Community sterilization + feeding programs that are monitored. Don’t just drop dogs back. Track them. Feed them. Vaccinate annually.
Until then, the streets will keep bleeding. The videos will keep coming. The donations will keep flowing. And the dogs will keep dying.
So I’ll ask again. Who speaks for Kashmir’s voiceless? The NGOs that profit, cameras rolling, donation links ready? Or the streets themselves — where every wound, every rib, every maggot-infested sore is a testimony that no one is listening?
The Valley has enough silence. Its strays shouldn’t have to die in it.
