It was a hot afternoon, and I was on my way home after my final exams. I came across a crowd on the roadside, gathered around a dog lying on the pavement, shaking uncontrollably, covered in injuries from stones and sticks. The people around it were ready to strike again. “It’s mad, it bites,” they said, pulling me away, but I didn’t see a dangerous animal—I saw one that was scared and helpless. Without thinking, I pushed everyone aside. “Please, don’t hurt it. I’ll take care of it,” I said, picking up the trembling dog. Not knowing what else to do, I snuck the dog home. He was too weak to make any noise, so I was able to safely hide him in a box.

Over the next few days and weeks, I spent whatever money I could on medicines from a local vet. He told me the dog was not mad, nor rabid; he had a dangerous virus, and the shaking was him suffering from seizures. I tried my best to nurse him back to health, but he didn't survive his injuries. Watching that dog take its last breath broke something in me. I made a promise to myself that no other animal would suffer if I could help it. From that moment, my path was set—I was going to dedicate my life to rescuing animals.

I began rescuing stray dogs, hiding them wherever I could—old buildings, empty lots, and sometimes even in my own home. My mother, who had been my rock since my father passed away, couldn't understand my new mission. As a beautician, she struggled to afford my education, and wanted me to focus on my studies and build a secure future, but rescuing animals had become my purpose. As I grew older, balancing my education, part-time jobs, and rescue work became overwhelming, and I found myself more drawn to saving animals than anything else. I left my job as a software test engineer to dedicate myself fully to this work, facing criticism and skepticism from friends, family, and society. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made, but I knew I couldn’t live any other way. My mother finally recognized my commitment, and supported me by selling all her gold ornaments, including her Mangal Sutra—the last memory of my father—to keep us going. We faced many sacrifices, but each time we saved an animal, it felt worth it.  

We also feed up to 500 stray animals daily. The challenges we face in our mission are endless—limited resources, financial pressure, and the emotional toll of seeing suffering every day. Recently, we were even asked to vacate the current government-provided site where our shelter stands. We’re now scrambling to find new rented land and build temporary facilities to keep the animals safe. It’s an urgent need, and every day feels like a race against time to secure the shelter’s future.

I rely on a small team of dedicated staff, but the costs keep piling up—rent, food, medicine, surgeries, and salaries. Despite these challenges, I’m committed to continuing this work because every animal that finds safety with us is a life saved from the streets.

These stories are what keep me going, even on the hardest days. Each animal I rescue is a life pulled back from the brink of suffering, and each recovery feels like a small victory in a world where animals are often seen as disposable. One of the most memorable rescues is a dog called Guddu. He was found near the railway tracks, barely alive after losing two legs on one side in a train accident. Everyone I spoke to, including veterinarians, told me there was no hope—he would never walk again and should be put down. But I couldn’t accept that. I dressed his wounds daily, and after weeks of care, he did the impossible—he learned to balance on his remaining legs and started running. Watching him defy all odds was like witnessing a miracle.

Another unforgettable case is Ranga, a stray dog who was brutally attacked with stones and left in a coma for two months. When I found him, he was unconscious, and we weren’t sure if he would ever wake up. Against all expectations, Ranga pulled through. And then there’s Goli, a beagle who was abandoned outside a veterinary clinic with thousands of maggots eating into his back. The owner had left him to die because he couldn’t be bothered with the effort and cost of treatment. We took him in, cleaned his wounds, and over weeks of intensive care, he transformed into a healthy, joyful dog. He’s still waiting for adoption, but in the meantime, he’s thriving in the safety of our shelter.

I dream of a day when I can build a permanent shelter with 24/7 medical facilities—a place where every animal can receive the care they need without the constant fear of relocation or eviction. But right now, my focus is on keeping the current shelter running, meeting the immediate needs of these animals, and finding a safe space to continue this work. My philosophy is simple: Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam. That is: the world is one big family, and every life matters. 

Every contribution, big or small, helps us provide a second chance for animals who have nowhere else to turn. Join me in this mission—your support means the world to these animals.