THE HALF MOTHERS OF ANAND
The recent ban on foreign couples seeking surrogacy in the country has led to a big debate on the the lives of the women involved. HT visits surrogate mothers in Anand to capture the lives and experiences of those who are compelled to rent their wombs for
It’s a typical day at the Akanksha infertility clinic in Anand, the Gujarat town synonymous with commercial surrogacy. More than a dozen-odd young and middle-aged women patiently wait for their turn to see IVF specialist, Dr Nayna Patel. A slim, young Caucasian woman stands out from the crowd as she quietly stares at a collage of news clippings on a board next to the reception. All of them eulogize Dr Patel with the latest one saying that her clinic has had “1001 babies” born out of surrogacy to its credit.
The next few hours slip by with Patel attending to each person in the waiting room until finally she has the time to meet me. “This is just bizarre,” she says, visibly exhausted.
The “bizarre” development is the recent notification by the Indian Council of Medical Research to ART clinics, disallowing foreigners from commissioning surrogates. The decision follows the 2012 directive by the Home Ministry banning gay couples from accessing surrogacy. Put together, the two decisions have created enough controversy about India’s unregulated “booming infertility tourism” industry that hinges on the “exploitation” of poor women who bear children for money. The mainstream discourse has often been polarized between two extreme positions — while some argue for women’s [both the surrogate mother’s and the infertile woman’s] right to “choose” and their reproductive autonomy, others are pushing for a complete ban on the practice, which they believe is “exploitative”.
An adherent of the latter position, advocate Jayshree Wad is behind a recent PIL terming surrogacy contracts as “illegal, and violative of the fundamental rights guaranteed to the Indian Women under Article 21 of the Constitution of India”. The petition, filed in February this year, has resulted in the ICMR notification, and a debate on the ethics of surrogacy arrangements.
*** Manju Pawar, 30, a first-time surrogate mother at Dr Patel’s dormitory for surrogates, says she had opted for a hysterectomy a few years ago. “I had two kids, a boy and a girl. Par beti off ho gayi (My daughter died),” she says. However, medical science has enabled for Manju to have kids for others. “If I can give someone a child, it’s a good deed... though people come here only if they have a [financial] problem. Why else would we do this?”
Like Manju, most of the surrogate mothers in the house — Patel runs several such dormitories in Anand — frame their responses about surrogacy in similar ways: a “good” means to earn money to either buy a house, get their kids good education, “fix” the money in a bank for future use and, in some cases, attend to a medical emergency in the family. “My husband is half-blind,” says Manju, who used to work in a sari shop before she took up surrogacy about seven months ago. At her old job, a 12-hour shift got her `10,000 a month. Most of the other residents — like Manju, they are dressed in loose, flowy gowns — agree that surrogacy pays better than any of the other jobs that they can take on. A surrogate mother gets an assured `4 lakh per child and 25%extra, in case of twins.
Unsurprisingly, many end up here for a second term. Farzana, 30, separated from her husband many years ago. With the money that she received from her first surrogacy, she bought some land in her village. The second time round, she plans to put the money in her daughter’s name. “My mother was a bit scared,” Farzana recounts. “‘Don’t go,’ she said. But things are very expensive now. What can one do?”
Amina Bano, 26, who lives in another surrogate house close by, says she came here for her first surrogacy because she figured it was better than travelling to places as far as Goa to sell her eggs. “I would make about `10,000 per trip. My husband drives an auto-rickshaw, and makes no more than `4,000. So the money I make is useful,” she says. Patel feels that poor women’s needs make a compelling reason for the government to reconsider the decision: “Surrogacy has helped many women build a house and move towards a more financially secure future. I ask critics who oppose surrogacy on grounds of ‘exploitation’: what can you do for these women? Can you get them a house; education for their kids? If not, at least don’t deny them the means to do so.”
**** The Assisted Reproductive Technology (Regulation) Bill, 2014 has been in the making for at least 10 years now. Despite several versions of the draft law, it is still a long way from becoming a law. Meanwhile, the last decade has seen the industry burgeon (a 2012 CII study claims 10,000 foreign couples visit India for surrogacy every year; the industry generates $2 billion a year) with transnational surrogacy and infertility services provided by clinics in India becoming popular globally because of the cheap pricing and the quality of services offered. As a result, ART clinics have mushroomed around the country. But the industry (regulated only by guidelines that are not binding) has also been witness to several malpractices — multiple IVF cycles performed on surrogate mothers, indiscriminate “harvesting” of oocytes or eggs, and the lack of a check on the potential health risks faced by women who offer the service. There have also been controversial cases such as that of Baby Manji (where the complicated divorce of the couple led to the baby eventually being adopted by her paternal grandmother), and of the Australian couple who left behind one of their set of twins because they already had a daughter, to name a few. However, industry professionals feel the decision of banning specific groups of foreign couples hardly addresses the problem. “How does the exploitation debate settle by disallowing only foreign couples, even as OCI (Overseas Citizenship of India) and PIOs (Person of Indian Origin) are allowed?” asks Delhi-based advocate Anurag Chawla. Agrees Dr Patel: “Why punish everyone for the fault of a few others?”
In the dorms, Manju and other surrogate mothers, at various stages of their pregnancies, feel the ban will affect them the most. “With a foreign client, you can expect a handsome tip also,” says Farzana, who got one lakh extra the last time she had a baby for an American couple. “Indians are not so generous,” says Manju, a tinge of disappointment in her voice, as her surrogacy is for an Indian couple.
‘IT’S A GOOD THING TO DO, GIVING A CHILD TO AN INFERTILE COUPLE. BUT ANYONE WHO COMES HERE HAS A [FINANCIAL] PROBLEM. THIS MONEY IS MORE THAN WHAT A 12-HOUR SHIFT WILL GET ME IN ONE YEAR’ ‘IT’S NOT LIKE A NORMAL PREGNANCY. YOU CAN’T JUST ROAM LIKE THAT. IT’S SOMEONE ELSE’S BABY’