Pigeons of Discontent

The ruling BJP in Maharashtra finds itself politically perturbed by pigeons and elephants.

Bollywood has long anthropomorphised its animals. Pigeons once carried ardent missives across a lovers’ divide, immortalised in the syrupy refrain of Kabootar ja ja ja. Elephants have lumbered across cinema screens as gentle giants, their injuries eliciting as many tears as those of the heroes. Rajesh Khanna’s weeping in Haathi Mere Saathi was once a national moment.

In today’s Maharashtra, these same creatures are no longer symbols of romance or loyalty but of political discomfort. Pigeons and an elephant named Madhuri have, improbably, become a thorn in the side of the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). Their cases reveal how fragile the party’s relationship can be with its most loyal voters when matters of public health and animal welfare collide with religious sentiment.

The first flap concerns Mumbai’s kabutarkhanas, designated pigeon-feeding enclosures that have been a feature of the city for decades. For many Jains, scattering grain for the birds is not just a charitable act but a religious obligation. These small structures, often nestled in busy neighbourhoods like Dadar or Malabar Hill, are as much a part of the urban fabric as the city’s monsoon leaks and traffic snarls.

Last month, Minister Uday Samant announced the closure of 51 kabutarkhanas. The Bombay High Court, citing medical advice, had endorsed the move as pigeon droppings can carry fungal spores that cause hypersensitivity pneumonitis - a potentially serious lung disease that preys on the elderly and children. Four weeks later the court tightened the screws, ordering police action against anyone caught feeding the birds.

The Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) duly got to work. Between July 13 and August 3, it fined 142 offenders, collecting Rs. 68,000. In Dadar alone, 61 people were penalised. But enforcement brought backlash. Jain residents, joined by some Marathi-speaking locals, tore away BMC tarpaulin covers over feeding areas and defiantly scattered grain. Arguments with police followed.

Jain leaders called the ban “inhuman” and “hasty,” warning that the birds were starving. The measure, they argued, was an assault on religious duty. In a city where Jains, though numerically small, are influential in business, philanthropy and politics, such an affront was risky. Many are dependable BJP supporters, particularly in wards crucial to the upcoming BMC elections.

Sensing danger, Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis shifted tone. The ban, he conceded, had been “sudden” and suggested that controlled feeding could be permitted.

The government’s retreat was as much political calculus as compassion. Alienating Jains and sections of the Marathi Hindu middle class over bird feed was not a gamble worth taking months before municipal polls.

If pigeons tested the government’s urban instincts, elephants probed its rural and religious sensitivities. In Kolhapur, a Jain monastery had for years hosted Madhuri, an elephant revered by local monks and residents. In June the Bombay High Court, upheld by the Supreme Court, ordered her transfer to Vantara, a sprawling wildlife rescue facility in Gujarat, citing better care standards.

To the court, it was an animal-welfare issue. To Kolhapur’s Jains, it was bereavement. Madhuri was a fixture of temple life, part mascot, part family member. Fifteen thousand people joined a silent march demanding her return. Fadnavis again intervened, promising to file a review petition and announcing plans for an elephant-care centre in Kolhapur to facilitate Madhuri’s eventual homecoming.

In each case, the backlash from a small but potent constituency forced a rhetorical, if not procedural, retreat for the BJP. And in each, the opposition scented opportunity.

For Jains, the episodes feel like a pattern of official insensitivity, even hostility. Some suspect a wedge is being driven between Jains and Marathi-speaking Hindus, an alliance that has often benefited the BJP in Mumbai.

The BJP cannot afford to take that loyalty for granted. In tightly fought urban contests, such as the upcoming BMC elections, even a fractional swing could cost control of key wards. The opposition, from the Shiv Sena (UBT) to the Congress, will be eager to court disaffected Jains, portraying themselves as protectors of religious practice against an overreaching state.

The controversies also raise broader questions about governance in India’s crowded, plural society. Public health, environmental protection and animal welfare often require unpopular interventions. But in a polity where faith and tradition are deeply woven into daily life, blunt bans can inflame sentiment and harden opposition. The challenge for any government is to reconcile science with sentiment.

There are alternatives to outright prohibition. Pigeon-feeding could be shifted to designated open areas away from dense housing. Regulating time, place and quantity could mitigate health risks while respecting religious observance. Public-awareness campaigns could explain the hazards without demonising devotees. In the elephant’s case, stricter animal-care protocols could be enforced in religious settings, with caretakers involved in decision-making rather than blindsided by court orders.

The BJP’s handling of pigeons and elephants offers a microcosm of modern Indian politics. The party likes to project itself as decisive and reformist, willing to privilege policy over populism. Yet when faced with a loyal community’s wrath, it has shown itself quick to recalibrate. In the age of instant outrage, such agility is often prudent. But frequent reversals risk making a government look reactive rather than resolute.

For now, pigeons still flutter over Mumbai, their fate suspended between health officials’ warnings and devotees’ grain baskets. Madhuri remains in Gujarat, her possible return contingent on bureaucratic engineering and a new elephant facility that may take years to materialise. Both creatures are unlikely political actors. Yet, in Indian electoral life, feelings matter as much as facts.

The BJP, and any party hoping to govern Maharashtra, must master the art of balancing rule of law with emotional intelligence. As Bollywood’s filmmakers once knew, animals can be potent symbols. Mishandle them, and the political consequences may be as unpredictable as a flock of startled pigeons or an elephant that decides it has had enough.

(The Writer is a communication professional. Views Personal.)