It blinks, sways, and lifts its trunk on cue. Its ears flap, its trunk curls back, almost like a greeting. These are India’s newest elephants. They do not have a real elephant’s emotions, but they do have the physical potential. They look familiar and move in ways people recognise.
Across southern India, these life-sized mechanical elephants are replacing captive animals in public spaces.
Built, not born
Inside modest workshops in Kerala, these elephants come together piece by piece.
Artists like Prasanth Prakashan and his team assemble fibreglass bodies over iron frames, embedding motors that power movement. Each elephant can weigh up to 800 kilograms and stand over 10 feet tall.
But there is a lot of hard work involved because people do seek the ‘real’ in the mechanical. It is challenging because the artificial version comes without emotions—something normally expected in a human-elephant bond.
However, the physical aspects must closely resemble the real. The trunk must lift smoothly. The ears must move in rhythm. Some models can even spray water, mimicking behaviour that people instinctively associate with real elephants. Mounted on wheels and powered by generators, they can be transported and operated with relative ease.
Each unit costs upwards of Rs 5 lakh and takes weeks to complete.
Production is still limited; only a few are made each month, but demand is growing. Orders now come not just from within India but also from international performance groups adapting to stricter animal welfare laws.
Why replace the real?
The rise of mechanical elephants is tied to a deeper discomfort with how captive elephants are treated.
Animal welfare organisations, including PETA India, have long argued that the lives of these animals in captivity are far removed from their natural existence.
In the wild, elephants live in matriarchal herds, moving across vast landscapes and maintaining close social bonds.
In captivity, many are separated early from their mothers and trained through methods designed to enforce obedience. Reports from advocacy groups describe long hours in chains, exposure to loud environments, and frequent transport during peak seasons.
This stress can trigger unpredictable behaviour, sometimes with fatal outcomes.
A widely reported incident in 2013, where a captive elephant ran amok during an event in Kerala, led to multiple deaths and injuries. Cases like this have pushed both activists and authorities to reconsider long-standing practices.
From idea to implementation
The concept of mechanical elephants is not entirely new.
As early as 2013, PETA India proposed replacing captive elephants with lifelike replicas. At the time, the idea struggled to gain traction.
A decade later, that has changed. In 2023, a life-size mechanical elephant was introduced at a temple in Kerala’s Thrissur district, marking a turning point.
Since then, at least 26 such elephants have been deployed across southern India, according to PETA India.
Other organisations, such as the Voice for Asian Elephants Society (VFAES), have also taken up the mission to end cruelty towards captive elephants.
In February 2024, VFAES donated its first robotic elephant to a temple in Gudalur, located on the Kerala–Tamil Nadu border. In 2025, the organisation sponsored another mechanical elephant for a temple in Thrissur.
Tourism without the trade-off
The shift is also reshaping tourism.
In Kerala, a mechanical elephant safari introduced at a butterfly park offers visitors a ride experience without involving live animals. The initiative was recognised by PETA India as a step towards more humane tourism practices.
Operated with electric motors, they can shake their heads, blink, move their tails, and spray water through their trunks. Photograph: (PTI)
For operators, the advantages are practical. Mechanical elephants do not require feeding, medical care, or specialised handlers. They do not tire, panic, or react unpredictably in crowded settings.
Over time, this reduces both costs and risks.
Is the transition seamless?
No, it is not. People are caught between memory and modernity.
Elephants have long occupied a complex space in India’s history, appearing in ancient texts, war records, and art.
From the battle formations described in the Arthashastra to the intricate carvings of temple architecture, they have been more than animals; they have been symbols.
Mechanical replicas, despite their precision, cannot fully carry that weight.
For some, they feel like a reduction of something deeply rooted.
Resistance persists, particularly among those who see live elephants as integral to tradition.
At the same time, attitudes are shifting.
Greater awareness of animal welfare and concerns around public safety are influencing how communities make decisions.
How far have we come?
India is home to around 2,500 captive elephants, with nearly 400 in Kerala alone. While stricter regulations have reduced these numbers over the past decade, the broader system remains in place.
Mechanical elephants do not resolve every issue. They do, however, mark a visible shift—a move towards alternatives that reduce reliance on captivity. For the artists building them, the goal is not to replace elephants entirely, but to change the conditions under which humans interact with them.
It may not carry memory or instinct. But in its own way, it carries the possibility that coexistence does not always have to come at a cost.
