MADURAI: Every night, after all restaurants in the city of Madurai have drawn their shutters, a giant vessel brims with rice, chicken, pumpkin, beetroot, and spices in a modest kitchen in Arapalayam. The feast is prepared for hundreds of special customers who place no orders, leave no reviews.
Nearly 600 abandoned four-legged souls wait instead at street corners, beneath shuttered shops and under poles of amber streetlight, ears pricked up for the familiar whirr of a two-wheeler. At a time when India’s stray dogs have become the subject of heated public battles and courtroom debates, K Jayachandran (37) has chosen a quieter form of revolt. For seven years, he has been spending his nights feeding hundreds of community dogs beyond his neighbourhood of Arapalayam, travelling up to 30 km to Duraisamy Nagar, Alagappan Nagar, Madakulam, and Singarayar Colony.
This is not the work of an NGO flush with funds. It is the sole, stubborn mission of a city councillor who believes that caring for the voiceless is the most profound form of public service. The councillor of Ward 62 in Madurai began with feeding just two adopted strays outside his home. Over time, the small pressure cooker gave way to a much larger pot, and eventually to a colossal vessel. Today, two separate kitchens operate daily – one catering to around 150 dogs, and the other, to nearly 450 – churning out 40 kilograms of rice, or as Jayachandran puts it, “almost like making biryani,” seven days a week, without exception. Two cooks draw monthly salaries, while a third worker handles distribution routes that often stretch well past midnight. The monthly meat bill alone ranges between Rs 42,000 and Rs 47,000.
And who foots this?
“Mostly out of my own pocket,” the councillor says. “Sometimes people randomly donate ration rice. But there is no regular funding. I undertook the whole initiative out of my interest, and my family members also support me.” There have been periods of severe financial strain, but in seven years, he says, the dogs never went hungry.
The promise held firm even when tragedy struck. During the Covid-19 pandemic, Jayachandran lost close family members. Yet on days packed with hospital visits and funerals, the feeding did not stop. “This responsibility changed our entire family’s lifestyle,” he says. “In seven years, we have never gone for an outing or attended a family function all together. Someone always stays back for the dogs.”
For Jayachandran, who completed post-graduation in English Literature, animal welfare is neither a hobby nor an act of charity; it is the very reason he entered electoral politics. “I became a councillor because I felt only people with some authority can bring real change for animals,” he says.
His home, meanwhile, has evolved into a sanctuary for 25 rescued dogs that are paralysed, abandoned, disfigured, and the ones nobody wants. Healthier dogs are put up for adoption, but only after a rigorous counselling process with prospective owners. “I never hand over dogs immediately. I ask people how they will care for them. I tell them to return the dog if they cannot manage. Adoption is a responsibility.” Around 200-250 dogs have found homes through this patient and careful vetting process.
Yet his commitment has often come at a cost. Jayachandran admits to facing police complaints and FIRs while intervening in cases of animal abuse. In some neighbourhoods, he says, the food he leaves out is thrown away as soon as he turns his back, and the dogs are subjected to violence. “People should show empathy naturally. But where that doesn’t happen, there must at least be fear of consequences for harming animals.”
Today, he wants local bodies to formally recognise community feeders rather than treating them as isolated volunteers. “You cannot manage stray animals without first ensuring food. Then comes sterilisation, vaccination, and adoption. Every ward has people willing to care for dogs. What is missing is coordination.”
He believes unused ration rice can be channelled into decentralised feeding programmes, while councillors can help build ward-level sterilisation and adoption networks. “If every ward takes responsibility for its own dogs, the issue can be managed humanely.”
Hours after Madurai has fallen asleep, Jayachandran’s two-wheeler finally rolls back into his compound. The empty vessels clatter. And somewhere on a quiet street, a stray dog curls up for slumber with a full stomach, unaware that a man has once again fulfilled his promise.
(Edited by Swarnali Dutta)