For most of her life, Neeta Prasad* cleaned other people’s homes. The 30-year-old domestic worker steps out of her one-room shack in an Ulhasnagar slum every morning and spends her day sweeping floors, washing utensils and mopping apartments across the city. By month’s end, she earns about Rs 10,000 — barely enough to pay rent, buy medicines to remain fit and keep her household running. Her husband works as a cook at roadside eateries. Their son lives with relatives in their village, where he attends school.
Yet when the family moved to Ulhasnagar in 2022, they hoped for a better future. Instead, they found themselves trapped in the cycle of urban poverty. That was when a relative told Neeta about what sounded like an easy way to earn money. “She said I could make Rs 20,000 by donating my ‘stree beej’ (eggs). My body naturally produces them every month and since I had children of my own, I could donate them and get paid,” says Neeta. What she did not fully understand was the price her body would pay.
By the time authorities uncovered the illegal egg-harvesting network this year, Neeta had undergone at least 45 egg retrieval procedures, which is legally allowed only once in a lifetime. That meant 45 rounds of hormone injections, 45 periods of recovery and 45 occasions on which a needle was inserted through the vaginal wall to collect eggs from her ovaries. Doctors say each cycle subjected her to hormonal manipulation designed to force her ovaries to produce multiple eggs, followed by an invasive retrieval procedure under sedation. Repeated stimulation also carries risks of bleeding, infection and cysts. Yet for women like Neeta, the decision was rarely about medicine. It was about economics.
The process began with daily hormone injections administered into her abdomen for nearly two weeks. Then came repeated pelvic ultrasounds to monitor egg development. Finally, she was given a trigger injection and taken to a clinic where doctors retrieved her eggs through a procedure performed under sedation. As the days passed, she experienced fatigue, mood swings, irritability, bloating and pelvic pain. “The woman giving me the injections said it was normal. She told me I was helping women who could not have children,” says Neeta.
When she woke up after her first egg retrieval, her stomach felt swollen and sore. “I was scared although I received Rs 20,000,” she says. Initially, she decided she would never do it again. Then she began calculating school expenses, rent payments and household bills. The next time the agents called, she agreed. Then she agreed again. And again.
Poverty as a recruitment strategy
Neeta’s story echoes across Maharashtra’s slums. Roshani Shaikh*, a 35-year-old factory worker from Thane, entered the network after her husband left her in 2023. Living alone and struggling financially, she was introduced to egg donation by a colleague. A woman known only as “madam” coordinated the process.
Soon, Roshani too was receiving hormone injections and travelling for procedures. “I thought I could move to a better area and improve my life. My friends had been donating eggs for years and they were earning good money,” she says. “When I held Rs 20,000 in my hand after every procedure, the pain my body had gone through suddenly felt very small,” she adds.
For Suman Patil*, 25, the choice came amid mounting debt after her husband left her for another woman. Friends who were already donating eggs suggested she join them. “They told me I could make Rs 30,000 every month on the side. I experienced severe cramps and bloating, but the money kept me going.”
Investigators say that financial vulnerability became the foundation of a network that systematically recruited poor women and transformed their reproductive capacity into a commodity.
The racket is busted
The operation came to light on February 19 when Badlapur police received information that women were being administered hormone injections inside a residential apartment. Suspecting a health-related offence, police sought assistance from district health authorities. Acting on instructions from Civil Surgeon Dr Kailash Pawar, a team of government doctors joined officers during a raid.
What they discovered would expose a network stretching across multiple cities and states. According to police, the apartment functioned as an illegal hub where women were called to receive fertility injections before being sent for egg retrieval procedures. Officers recovered Menotropin, a fertility drug used to stimulate egg production.
Egg freezing and egg donation. (Source: Express GFX)
The woman operating the facility allegedly admitted she was administering injections and coordinating with a broader network across Thane, Badlapur and other regions. Her statement led investigators to additional suspects and locations. As investigators dug deeper, they uncovered what they describe as a sophisticated supply chain involving recruiters, medicine suppliers, sonography operators, document forgers and fertility clinics. Police have booked 15 accused, including doctors, agents, pharmacists and alleged document forgers, under provisions relating to human trafficking, exploitation, forgery and violations of the ART Act.
How the system worked
The Assisted Reproductive Technology (Regulation) Act, 2021 allows a woman to donate eggs only once in her lifetime. Investigators allege the network bypassed that safeguard through forged identities. Women who had already donated eggs were allegedly provided fake Aadhaar cards and fabricated records so they could continue being presented as first-time donors. Police say donors were first given hormone injections to stimulate their ovaries. They were then sent for ultrasound scans to monitor follicle growth before being transported to fertility centres for egg retrieval procedures. One donor identified during the investigation underwent 35 egg retrieval procedures in three years and was transported to clinics in Kerala and Tamil Nadu. She received Rs 35,000 for each cycle.
The economics reveal why the system flourished. Women were paid between Rs 20,000 and Rs 35,000 for each cycle. Intended parents seeking donor eggs reportedly paid between Rs 3 lakh and Rs 5 lakh. Agents allegedly earned between Rs 70,000 and Rs 1 lakh for arranging donors. Smaller participants earned commissions for scans, medicines and forged documents. At every stage, someone profited from a woman’s poverty.
The hidden health toll
Medical experts say the case raises disturbing questions about the cumulative impact of repeated egg retrieval procedures. Dr Anjali Malpani, Professor Emeritus of KEM Hospital and founder-director of Malpani Infertility Clinic in Mumbai, described the practice as the worst form of physical abuse. “A woman’s body is resilient. But calling the same woman back every month for hormonal injections, anaesthesia and egg retrieval takes a toll on her reproductive and hormonal systems,” she says.
According to her, women can experience abdominal pain, bloating, nausea, weakness, constipation, emotional stress and discomfort. “The most serious complication is ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome, which in severe cases can become life-threatening. The ovaries swell up with fluid. Warning signs include severe abdominal pain, rapid weight gain (more than 1–2 kg in 24 hours), significant abdominal swelling, shortness of breath, reduced urination, severe nausea/vomiting, dizziness, or signs of blood clots. These symptoms require prompt medical attention and could become life-threatening,” she says.
Perhaps more troubling is what medicine still does not know. “There is little research on women undergoing 20-30 retrievals over a short period,” she says. Dr Kailash Pawar, civil surgeon at Thane District Hospital, warns against the risks of infection and cyst formation.
Beyond one criminal case
Fertility specialists argue that the case exposes broader structural failures. Dr Aniruddha Malpani, patient advocate and co-founder of Malpani Infertility Clinic, believes the racket reflects a system in which information and financial power are concentrated among intermediaries while donors remain poorly informed. “Weak oversight and the growing commercialisation of fertility services create conditions in which exploitation can thrive. Unless those incentives change, similar networks are likely to emerge elsewhere,” he warns.
For Neeta, however, the larger policy debate feels distant. What she remembers are the injections, the scans, the procedures and the envelopes of cash that followed. The money helped pay for her son’s education. But it came at a cost that nobody fully explained. And one which she will never understand.