Bandra: On the picturesque, Instagram-filtered lanes of Chapel Road, where art peeks out from every wall and the scent of artisanal coffee floats in the air, Bandra resident Meenakshi Rao is locked in a battle—not against inflation or the traffic, but against a far smellier adversary.

“This is the third time this week,” she sighs, pointing to yet another steaming signature left by a mystery mutt. “At this point, I’m not walking. I’m dodging.”

Welcome to Bandra, where the stars walk the streets, the jewelry glistens on Turner Road, and the footpaths have become, quite literally, landmines of lament.

A Civic Ballet of Squish and Side-Step

Residents from Carter Road to Pali Hill are now seasoned performers in an involuntary interpretive dance — The Shuffle of Shame. It involves high knees, sudden pivots, and frequent glares at people pretending not to see their pooch’s parting gift.

Bandra’s transformation from the borough of Bollywood to the capital of Canine Contributions didn’t happen overnight. It was a slow, smelly seep — one dollop at a time.

Health Risks Served Al Dente

Behind the comedy lies a less amusing reality. General physician Dr. Bosco Pereira warns that what you see isn’t the only thing you get. “Dog faeces are a buffet of bacteria — E. coli, Giardia, even Salmonella. And once the monsoon arrives, it all blends into a citywide smoothie.”

While cafes in Bandra boast kombucha and immunity shots, their footpaths offer the very parasites they’re trying to ward off. Children and seniors are most at risk, though nobody is immune to the surprise squish or the slow horror of tracking it home.

Bandra’s Great Wall of Silence

So why hasn’t this issue been wiped clean? According to urban sociologist Prof. Rekha Sharma, it’s simple: Bandra’s elegance masks a reluctance to confront. “Nobody wants to shame the pug parent. You might bump into them at yoga.”

She’s got a point. Social correction has become the final taboo in a locality where privacy, parties, and Pilates coexist peacefully. Meanwhile, signs are rare, bins are fewer, and poop bag dispensers are as mythical as punctual BEST buses.

The BMC: Bygones May Continue

A brave BMC official (who we will refer to as ‘The Anonymous’) admitted that complaints were piling up faster than the poop. “Yes, we’ve received numerous grievances. But with our resources, we’re choosing our battles. And right now, garbage mountains and construction debris are in the lead.”

To their credit, laws exist — Section 381B permits fines for those who fail to scoop. But enforcement without cooperation, as the official puts it, is like expecting Bandra traffic to follow lane discipline — ideal in theory, elusive in practice.

Love Me, Love My Poop

Animal activists like Priya D’Souza of Paw Prints are walking the tightrope. “We can’t villainize

pets. They’re just doing what comes naturally. It’s humans who refuse to evolve.”

Her solution? Education, not execution. “Let’s have poop bag stations. Let’s run housing society workshops. And maybe — just maybe — let’s not wait till someone’s Gucci loafer turns brown.”

Community to the Rescue (Sometimes)

Not all hope is down the drain. Harshil Mehta, a Bandra-based dog owner, diligently scoops up after his pet every day. “People have laughed at me,” he shrugs. “I don’t mind. They’ll learn — or they’ll land in it.”

In contrast, Sneha Tiwari from Bandra East raises a pertinent concern: “Where are we supposed to dispose of it? The bins are either overflowing or have vanished altogether. I want to do the right

thing, but the city must meet us halfway.”

Politicians Poised to Pick It Up

Local corporator Asif Zakaria, speaking at a ward-level sanitation review meeting held in Bandra West last week, said he has proposed the installation of dedicated dog waste stations — an idea

novel enough to raise eyebrows, yet practical enough to work. “This isn’t about shaming pet owners,” he emphasised. “It’s about equipping them to do the right thing.”

Meanwhile, MLA Ashish Shelar addressed the matter during a civic infrastructure forum convened at the Bandra Gymkhana, stating with characteristic clarity, “Civic hygiene is a fundamental right, not a privilege. We will advocate for budgetary provisions — even if it’s for faeces.”

Lessons from Abroad, Droppings from Here

In Toronto, leaving behind your dog’s droppings could earn you a $500 fine — a costly reminder that civic responsibility isn’t optional. In Tokyo, dog parks go a step further, offering not just bins but disinfectant stations, underscoring a culture of precision and public cleanliness. And in Amsterdam, the dog poop situation is so efficiently managed it feels as though the droppings apologise before hitting the pavement.

Mumbai, meanwhile, continues to turn a blind eye — save for the occasional moment of self- reflection when a misstep leads to an unpleasant squish underfoot. Despite its status as a global city, Mumbai has yet to embrace global standards when it comes to pet hygiene in public spaces. The issue, much like the mess, remains on the margins — noticed only when it’s too late.

The Bottom Line: It’s Us, Not Them

The truth is, this isn’t a dog problem — it’s a people problem. Apathy, neatly wrapped in pedigree, is at the heart of it. The humble turd has laid bare a larger truth: our collective failure to balance personal freedom with public responsibility.

So, the next time you see a Bandraite juggling a Starbucks in one hand and a designer leash in the other, do ask what’s in the third hand. If it’s not a poop bag, gently remind them — cleanliness is next to dogliness.

Until then, Bandra will continue to be Mumbai’s most glamorous minefield — a neighborhood where stars dazzle above, and surprises wait below.