A street brawl in India brings down a global kidney-transplant ring.
by Yudhijit Bhattacharjee
Caveat Donor
Image credit: Manan Vatsyayana/AFP/Getty Images
In a country where 300 million people live on less than a dollar a day, Amit Kumar—nicknamed “Dr. Horror” by the Indian media after his arrest last winter for heading an illicit global kidney-transplant ring—had little trouble finding homegrown organ donors. One favorite hunting ground was a strip of restaurants, shops, and hovels near an Islamic shrine, or dargah, in Mahim, a predominantly Muslim precinct of Mumbai. Devotees of the dargah, which attracts people of all faiths, donate money to restaurants to help feed the beggars who cluster there. Last June, walking past one such restaurant whose kitchen extends to the sidewalk, I saw a dozen or so men huddled within scorching distance of giant cauldrons in which meat and potatoes simmered. Expressions glazed and clothing in tatters, the men watched, motionless and silent, their patience unwavering. I felt as if I were looking at a still photo.
Kumar, who’s now on trial, has told officials that he sent his agents to offer such men anywhere from $500 to $2,500 for a kidney. Elsewhere, in the fast-growing towns of states like Haryāna and Uttar Pradesh, Kumar’s ring also went after newly arrived migrant workers seeking jobs.
Most donors were keen to trade their kidneys for cash. Some were professional blood donors, such as Mahesh, who worked at a tea stall near a century-old clock tower with a shattered dial that rises above Meerut, a city in Uttar Pradesh, near Delhi. He, in turn, told me about Shahid, a rickshaw puller who joined Kumar’s group after having made a career out of finding men who would sell their blood to nursing homes. Leveraging his knowledge of blood sellers, Shahid became one of Kumar’s most successful kidney hunters. Then there was Gyasuddin, a boyish-looking migrant worker with a shock of hair who sold his kidney for $1,000 and became another node in Kumar’s Meerut network.
Wandering through Meerut’s narrow streets, amid hundreds of cyclists, rickshaw pullers, three-wheelers, cars, and pedestrians, I asked shop owners and lemonade vendors where I could find other people who had sold their kidneys. They pointed me toward a rundown building across from the tower. Behind a tall iron gate, groups of men were playing cards in the shade of a tree, among them Rakesh, Mahesh, and Om Prakash—all of whom would later raise their shirts to show me long scars above the waist.
more...
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200812/organ-transplant-india