For forty years, Bandra Lake resident Premlata Soni and her husband fed the pigeons that gather around the reservoir — sometimes a few fistfuls of grain, sometimes a whole bag. Soni, who views the practice as part of her Hindu faith, says she even slipped out during pandemic lockdowns to feed the birds. “God wants us to do it,” she says.
In July, Mumbai’s municipal government moved to curb an expanding pigeon population by banning feeding in public spaces. Officials covered familiar feeding spots with blue tarpaulins, posted warnings linking feathers and droppings to respiratory illness, and began enforcing restrictions at sites residents had long used. Guards at some locations report daily defiance; Vikram Kumar, who oversees Bandra Lake, says dozens ignore the ban and that an attempt to stop feeding once provoked a physical assault. “One man punched me in the face,” he says.
Pigeon feeding has been woven into city life. Mumbai, a port metropolis of about 20 million, has long hosted pigeons nesting in apartment ducts and air-conditioning units. The city once designated 51 kabutarkhanas, or “houses for pigeons,” and where those did not exist people fed birds on pavements and at intersections.
The ban touched off sharp resistance from communities for whom feeding is a religious duty. Jains, whose faith emphasizes non-harm to living beings, point to scriptures and stories — community leader Puran Doshi cites a tale of a deity sacrificing himself to save a pigeon — as the origin of the practice. Hundreds of Jains and bird lovers protested at a popular kabutarkhana after barriers were erected, tearing down municipal fencing.
That protest provoked counter-mobilization. Some local residents accused Jains of seeking special treatment and organized opposing demonstrations. Pradeep Samant, secretary of the Marathi Ekikaran Samiti, called the pigeon dispute an “entry point” for wider social grievances and accused some Jains of creating exclusive neighborhoods and imposing restrictions on meat sales. Doshi rejects those accusations, noting that Jains have long been part of Mumbai’s social fabric.
Politics soon became entangled. With mayoral elections slated for early 2026, activists on both sides warned they would mobilize voters. In October, a Jain monk said his community would form a political party using a pigeon as its symbol. Under mounting pressure, municipal authorities partially relented and permitted feeding at four designated city sites.
Scientists and health specialists emphasize a different concern: sheer population size. Ornithologist Mohammed Dilawar describes the surge as a “human-induced population” fueled by regular feeding. A 2023 survey by Indian birdwatchers estimated that rock pigeon numbers rose by about 150% over two decades. More birds mean more droppings, which can damage heritage buildings and commercial property.
Health arguments have featured prominently in official justifications. Lung specialist Dr. Sujeet Rajan told the Bombay High Court that proteins in pigeon droppings can trigger hypersensitivity pneumonitis, a serious immune-related lung disease. He and court documents cited a 2019 study in the European Respiratory Journal that reviewed 60 Indian patients with hypersensitivity pneumonitis and found pigeon exposure implicated in nearly one in three cases. The illness can progress to irreversible fibrosis; there are no drugs to reverse fibrosis, and late diagnosis can leave patients oxygen-dependent or facing costly lung transplants.
Personal losses have strengthened the urgency of critics. Vaishali Chodnekar says her husband died after irreversible lung damage linked by doctors to long-term exposure to pigeons nesting around their terrace. She now runs a foundation to promote early diagnosis and treatment. “In India, any issue can get mired in politics and religion,” she says. “But the main focus should be on the health of the people.”
For others, feeding pigeons is less doctrinal than companionable. Pinku Kumar Goswami, who moved from a village and collects recyclables in Mumbai, says the birds keep him company during solitary work. “Pigeons are lovely,” he says. “If you feed them, they start recognizing you. They might even sit on your shoulder.” In a sprawling city, that bond can feel like home.
The dispute in Mumbai is a collision of public health and heritage protection on one side, and religious practice, compassion for animals, and personal solace on the other. Authorities’ compromise — allowing feeding at four sites — has eased tensions only slightly. The episode highlights how small daily rituals can become flashpoints when ecology, faith and politics intersect in a dense, diverse city.