In India, faith often trumps reason. That’s why the sound of temple bells sometimes feels more suffocating than the sound of a suffocating sound, but we don’t want to listen. A recent Mumbai court ruling—imposing a fine of ₹5,000 for feeding pigeons in a public place—is a clear and bold example of this confrontation. This decision is not against pigeons, but against the mindset that tramples on science, law, and public health in the name of sentimentality.
In our society, feeding pigeons is considered a “virtuous act.” Early in the morning, we find a sense of satisfaction in throwing a handful of grains onto our balcony, terrace, or park—as if we’ve served humanity in a significant way. But the question is: can an act performed without considering the consequences truly be considered compassion? Medical science has consistently warned that dried pigeon droppings can spread into the air and cause deadly diseases like cryptococcosis, histoplasmosis, hypersensitivity pneumonitis, and salmonella. These diseases are not imaginary fears, but true stories from real patients admitted to hospitals. Asthmatics, lung patients, the elderly, and children—their lives are at risk first.
The Mumbai court did not limit this case to a mere violation of a municipal corporation order, but considered it a direct threat to public health. The punishment under sections of the IPC indicates that the state now seeks not only to treat diseases but also to prevent social habits that cause disease. This is the first time in the country that a socially acceptable act, such as feeding pigeons, has been criminalized. This decision demonstrates that the law will now be guided by its impact, not by emotions.
The most uncomfortable question in this entire controversy concerns the intersection of religion and tradition. Some are calling it an attack on faith, but does religion ever condone the spread of disease? Does any religious text ever prescribe risking the lives of others to earn merit? The government and health agencies themselves have clearly stated that feeding pigeons is not a religious obligation, yet protests continue. In reality, this protest is not about faith, but stubbornness—a stubborn refusal to change one’s habits.
Cities are no longer villages. With dense populations, tall buildings, limited air, and shared spaces, even small negligence can turn into a major crisis. Grain left on a balcony not only attracts pigeons, but also brings with it a whole chain of disease, filth, and infection. Ironically, the same people who question masks, vaccines, and scientific warnings are, in the name of virtue, turning cities into a cesspool of biological waste.
In this debate, it’s important to clarify that the pigeons aren’t at fault. They’re simply living their lives according to their natural instincts. We are to blame—our unscientific sentimentality, our belief in convenience, and our collective irresponsibility. If you truly want to show compassion, do so in controlled, safe, and scientific ways—through animal welfare organizations, not in open public spaces.
This decision by the Mumbai court sends a clear message that faith may be private, but its impact cannot harm public life. Compassion does not necessarily mean harm, and the law is now recognizing this distinction. This decision is not limited to one city or one case, but serves as a warning to the entire nation: if we don’t change our habits in time, even “faith” will find itself in the dock.
Today, we need to redefine virtue. An act that takes away a child’s life cannot be virtuous. Faith that increases hospital queues cannot be pure. This Mumbai court’s decision is not against pigeons, but against unbridled sentimentality. It reminds us that the first condition of being human is concern for the life of another human being. If faith is truly genuine, it will not fear science.
