Mirror Mirror on the Wall...

The alarm went off at its scheduled time. Getting the blanket off, Ron suddenly feels lighter. From the mirror across the room, a familiar face stares back, but it isn't his own. It’s his wife’s. The reflection moves in sync with his own movements. “Wake up, Ron. Wake up now!” Ron slaps his face. His hands feel softer, his skin smoother. Blue nail paint smeared across his long nails – a shade he bought Rashmi for their anniversary.

Confusion quickly changes to panic when he notices himself sleeping on the bed in his favorite smiley-emoticon boxers he bought from Myntra. He reaches out to touch the face that was his till last night. The man shifts around and hugs a bolster to moan back to sleep – the bolster his wife can’t sleep without!

Ron and Rashmi have been trying for a baby for years. After three failed IVF attempts and lakhs out of the bank, Rashmi decided to respond to an ad in the local newspaper, which promised “a solution to every problem.” Written in fine print below the promise were a list of specialities. “Child” topped the list.

The couple decided to get themselves an appointment. Ron followed Rashmi when she moved a greasy floral printed curtain to step into a shady room. The walls, barely holding together, were covered with photographs of smiling babies, rich men, and happy couples—most downloaded from the Internet. On one corner of the room was a red Nilkamal table covered with a plastic cover. Across the table was a man looking intently from on top his glasses. The stench of paan-masala filled the room when he spoke.

“Want baby?” he asked. Ron immediately felt Rashmi completely in awe of the man. “Yes baba…sir…doctor,” she mumbled in reponse.

“Understand. Sit.”

The couple made themselves comfortable in two plastic chairs opposite the man. The flooring felt sticky.

“Man drink this,” the man instructed, handing over a little capsule with green liquid in it.

“Woman drink this,” he added handing over a similar capsule with grey liquid.

“Then try for baby. Guarantee result. If not happen, call number. Full refund,” he said signalling for the couple to leave.

Outside the chamber sat a young frail boy collecting money. While Ron took out two notes for a thousand each, he couldn’t help but notice a woman, a little far off, being blocked out of view by a few people. With the crowd around, he could hear a few disjointed words, “I… not… her… side-effect… him.” Not paying too much attention, the couple grabbed a burger on the way and drove back home.

It suddenly all makes sense now. Panicked, Ron opens his laptop and goes on the Internet to find out about similar experiences. A familiar face stares back at him in the search results. It’s the man from the room. Under his picture was the news headline: “Man Wanted for Witchcraft: Identity Altering Drug Doing the Rounds.”