In its investigative sting operation
'The Vanishing Daughters'
, Aaj Tak has made sensational revelations about female infanticide in Haryana. In part one of this sting, we unveiled how the illegal practices of gender testing and female foeticide before childbirth thrive here. Illegal clinics charge up to 200,000 rupees for this service.
Here is the second part of the sting operation...
In dimly lit corridors, whispers filled the air, creating a tense atmosphere in the clinic's waiting room. Patients' names were concealed, buried under layers of secrecy. These crimes, veiled in silence, flourish unnoticed, but unmasking them is no longer optional; it has become essential. The impact of the gender ratio gap in parts of Haryana has been longstanding.
A Voyage Into a Dark Underworld
Hisar’s troubling gender disparity has turned it into a female foeticide hub. Specifically, Barwala and Hansi are at the epicenter of illegal gender testing operations. My pursuit to uncover the scale of this illegal trade led me into the depths of Hisar's underworld. In these alleys, outsiders were met with suspicion; conversation with strangers was rare. I sought reliable sources and individuals who could help me penetrate this illegal trade’s lair.
From the beginning, it was clear that gathering just names or statistics wouldn’t suffice. Every detail mattered, every whisper was a piece of a larger, unspoken puzzle. The sting began with a call to a medical representative, who, despite his cautiousness, was compelled by growing evidence of deep-seated prejudices in society.
Source: aajtak
He revealed the brazen and widespread nature of this practice. Through this MR, I was able to contact Rakesh Ahuja, already implicated under the PCPNDT Act, notably in a 2017 case. This subsequently unveiled the inner workings of this criminal enterprise, with eye-opening discoveries. It was a domain where life itself became a commodity.
Rakesh Ahuja: An Accused Who Reveals All
Ahuja's name echoed within the corridors of Haryana's health department. Officials recounted his escape during a raid in Mahendragarh, when he fractured his leg. But when I met him, he did not hide; he confronted me. He ran a modest RMP (Registered Medical Practitioner) clinic in Hansi's bustling area—so inconspicuous that I needed local help to find it. I presented myself as a journalist, working on a story about the impact of the 'Save the Daughter, Educate the Daughter' campaign.
With frankness, Ahuja recounted his involvement in the racket, insisting that he had done nothing wrong but help a friend. 'I was just waiting for my friend outside,' he stressed, with a rebellious and dispassionate tone. Half an hour into our conversation, his frustration became evident when he complained about inadequate compensation. 'Despite so much trouble, I haven’t been paid properly,' he bitterly claimed, adding another point, 'Police took 1 million to release my friend.'
Source: aajtak
Our conversation was interrupted by a call—there was a raid to seize MTP (Medical Termination of Pregnancy) kits at a nearby shop. Amidst this chaos, he mentioned Dr. Anant Ram, a recurrent offender in PCPNDT files. 'I heard Anant Ram conducted an ultrasound the day before yesterday,' as if discussing a routine appointment. He added, 'Even from within, he charged 50,000 for a scan.' This was no longer about individuals; it was about a system meticulously crafted to terminate daughters before birth.
Cash, Secrecy, and a Chilling Deal
Unexpectedly, my next lead emerged. After various secretive calls, I received a reference for Usha—a key figure in this trade. Usha, by day a dedicated health worker known for her involvement in AIDS prevention at Hisar Civil Hospital, had become a trusted intermediary in the illegal world of gender testing.
Post thorough investigations, we connected with Usha. I portrayed myself as a member of a family keen on having a male child. My colleague Sanjay Kumar pretended to be a father of three daughters. We informed Usha of our intent to secure the family’s future via an ultrasound. On the call, Usha was cautious—inquiring how we got her number. Once reassured that we had it from a hospital insider, she agreed to meet.
Source: aajtak
Even then, she measured every word, acting as if everything was legal. We agreed to meet face-to-face. The next day at the bustling OP Jindal Park in Hisar, we met Usha. Sitting under the trees with anxious ease, Usha asked, 'How many months along? Three months? Yes, it can be done.' She offered us two options—200,000 rupees for a color ultrasound, or 80,000 rupees for a regular scan. She instructed us to pay in cash, a day in advance.
After full payment, she mentioned a meeting at JJ University Gate 3, where her sister would take over the responsibility. Usha’s sister worked at Kurukshetra Civil Hospital, indicating how this illegal network operated. Then came the sting’s most chilling part, where Usha said, 'Don’t worry... if it’s a girl, we’ll handle the cleaning. Want a son next time? We’ve got the medicine.' This wasn’t merely a scan—it was a service package prioritizing sons, even encompassing fatal decisions.
Tech on the Move: The Racket's New Face
Through Usha’s statements, the technically adept edge of this illegal network became apparent. With portable ultrasound machines—small enough to fit in a handbag—the trade thrived. Rohtak, Jhajjar, and Hisar's PCPNDT team officials also confirmed this. A senior official’s conversation was particularly disturbing. The individual, part of Haryana's 'Save the Daughter, Educate the Daughter' initiative’s design team, revealed the audacity of those running this racket.
Source: aajtak
He lamented, 'Now, when they connect USG machines with phones, what can we do?' Across borders, often smuggled from Nepal, these devices operate via smartphone apps. This makeshift labs can arise in the most unexpected of places, like rental rooms, moving cars, or even slums. Even abortion equipment was easily available. An Instagram seller agreed to send 50 MTP kits, not requiring a doctor’s prescription.
Beyond Haryana: An Unbounded Racket
This issue isn’t confined to Haryana alone. The dangerous network of pre-natal sex testing spans much beyond state borders, visible in neighboring regions like Punjab, Rajasthan, Delhi, and Uttar Pradesh. During the sting, I found a clinic video from Amroha. Hidden camera footage revealed an illegal clinic in operation—filmed undercover by an agent posing as a patient during a raid by the Haryana PCPNDT team. This footage is now part of the evidence.
The footage was truly chilling. A doctor was seen performing an ultrasound for a pregnant woman, who was also undercover. Post-exposure, the doctor was arrested but soon released on bail, resuming his practice within weeks. A source confirmed his return. This cycle persisted—unchallenged and uninterrupted.
Source: aajtak
The 'Save the Daughter, Educate the Daughter' campaign was launched with grand promises. Over the past decade, more than 1,200 raids occurred, spending nearly 60 million rupees. Still, by March 2025, improvements in the gender ratio are barely noticeable, and a minimal drop in female infanticide highlights the systematic failure of law enforcement tackling this crime. On paper, this policy looks formidable—promising daughter protection and challenging entrenched patriarchal norms. Yet on the ground, its impact is minimal. Bureaucratic inertia, corruption, and deep cultural biases have rendered every stern rule almost ludicrously ineffective.
Source: aajtak
I took one final step to view this entire process from within—going undercover again for the final raid. In the next part of 'The Vanishing Daughters,' I will lead readers into an operation fraught with risk. It was like stepping into a world where law, life, and danger intersect—and where each heartbeat tells a story of justice denied.
