Some 40 kilometres away from Akanksha Infertility Clinic is the city of Nadiad, a rural college township where temperatures in the summer could reach a scorching 45 degrees. Famous for the Dharmasingh Desai Institute of Technology and the Ayurvedic College, Nadiad attracts migrants from all over India. But the hot and dusty town has been attracting a different crowd in the past few years: fertility tourists from all over the world have been coming to Nadiad to pay a visit to a new landmark — the surrogate house.

Camouflaged amongst other dull two-storey buildings like itself, the surrogate house lies along a dusty main road near the Western railway track that links Ahmedabad to Mumbai. But the surrogate house, as most people in the area and Anand fondly call it, is not even a house. It is a rented second-storey flat with four rooms and a kitchen. It has electricity and constant water supply; proper metal-framed sliding windows and curtains; and two squat toilets.

A television set sits alone in the living room, with only a wall clock on an adjacent wall for company. A small, white ceramic sink juts out awkwardly by the side of the living room wall. There are no tables in the entire house. Only plastic chairs dot the concrete floor, which is covered simply by plastic flooring printed with abstract patterns.

The rooms are sparse. Everything seems to be hidden behind built-in cupboards, with neatly arranged metal-framed beds aligned beside them.

It is the occupants, however, that bring this rented flat to life. For they are no ordinary tenants — 16 pregnant surrogates live together in this flat and for nine months they call this flat their home.

Rented by Dr Patel, the surrogate house is an essential part of her surrogacy services. To the pragmatic doctor, the house gives her peace of mind: the flat is near a hospital and there is a caretaker who monitors the surrogates round the clock. Food and housework are taken care of. The only catch is that they will not be able to live with their families during the course of their pregnancy. The children and husband can visit though, but only during the day.

The surrogate house is a community with all the surrogates feeding off each other for support through their pregnancies and the caretaker, 42-year-old Niermala Oedra, is tasked to ensure that they keep their chins up during their stay at the house.

“I treat the surrogate mothers as my daughters and I always ask those around to take care of them in my absence,” said Oedra.

“I feel sad whenever one of my daughters leave the surrogate house after delivery. We would get together and cry for the one who leaves the house.”

Failure is not an option for the surrogates — they simply have too much riding on the child growing inside them: paying off debts, education funds, auto- rickshaws or a new house.

For the surrogate house is not just a temporary hostel for surrogate mothers, it is a transition to a whole new life.