Origins of Love by Kishwar Desai

Author:Kishwar Desai [Desai, Kishwar]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781471101496
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Chapter 6

SIMRAN

I stood in front of Mybaby.com. As I had learnt from my Internet search, it had once been a corner grocer’s shop, and was just a few minutes’ walk from the busy Tottenham Court Road. Now it was an ART clinic with a grim-faced receptionist answering phone calls and guarding all access to the main facilities like a stout yakshi in a temple forecourt.

It took me a while to get her attention, as she seemed intent on answering every phone call before she looked up. Her tight orange dress, long nails covered with glittering varnish, and dark hair in an afro frizz made her look like a lost member of the Supremes. I resigned myself to a long wait, and compared our spacious new reception in Gurgaon with the rather cramped area here. Of course, this was the heart of London and so land was at a premium. After years of admiring facilities in other countries, it was good to know that some Indian hospitals could easily compete with the best in the world.

The waiting area was covered with posters and photographs of smiling babies and a few women sat in silence, looking sorry for themselves. I knew from my experiences at Madonna and Child that fertility treatments could be quite unpleasant and I did not envy any of the potential mothers. Apart from the many discomforts they suffered, there was also the risk of giving birth to more than one child, which took its own toll on the women.

The receptionist finally got off the phone and I told her I had an appointment with Dr Maria Hansen, the doctor in charge.

After about twenty minutes, Dr Hansen came out of her room and asked me in. She was a petite blonde with clear blue eyes and an impatient expression.

Her room was completely wiped clean of both paper and personality. Obviously she was either very efficient or had very little to do.

‘How is your hospital coming along?’ she asked abruptly, after I had introduced myself.

‘Very well,’ I replied. ‘Every year there is a big jump in the number of babies and surrogates, and we are also in the process of increasing the storage capacity for the blastocysts. Our rates are extremely competitive, so things are looking good.’

‘Yes, I know.’ She was smiling, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘You’re taking away a lot of our customers. Why would they have fertility treatments here if they can do them for a quarter of the price in India, even if they risk picking up the New Delhi bug?’

I shrugged. ‘Every year a new bug is discovered somewhere. More people are killed by going to hospital than if they stay out.’

It was meant to be an example of my black humour, but Dr Hansen had apparently forgotten how to smile.

‘So. What can I do for you?’

‘Well, we have had a few problems with some of the blastocysts sent to us. One of them turned out to be HIV positive—’

‘I think we have already told you it had nothing to do with us.

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