How this Indian journalist followed the story of female infanticide for 30 years

Journalist and filmmaker Amitabh Parashar followed the story of female infanticide in India for more than 30 years. The result is the documentary The Midwife’s Confession, which premiered on the BBC World Service in September 2024. The film contains footage that Parashar collected over three decades and features the confessions of several midwives who acknowledge killing new born baby girls on the directions from the men of the family into which the babies had been born.  

Parashar managed to gain the trust of these women, who narrated how they killed these babies, at times by stuffing their mouths with salt or strangling them using the umbilical cord. Hakiya Devi, one of these midwives, said on camera that she had killed 12-13 babies during her years on this job. Dharmi Devi, another midwife, confessed to killing at least 15. 

The film starts with a scene from about a year or so ago, when Parashar gets a call to see the spot where an abandoned baby girl was rescued from. Today fewer baby girls are killed. They are just abandoned or left to die.  

Parashar is ushered into the bushes by young men. They point to the thorny plants in which a baby girl lay in nothing but rags. When he sees the girl, Parashar has tears in his eyes. He knows that this baby is one of the lucky ones to be alive.  

Girl children are considered to be a burden by some Indians as families have to spend a fortune on their wedding and sometimes even paying a dowry. Female infanticide numbers have seen a dip in the past few years, but this crime hasn’t entirely disappeared from India. One of the country’s most developed states reported 25 cases and another one recorded 11.  

The film is extremely relevant. But it’s even more remarkable for the fact that Parashar has been following this story for three decades. What does it take for a journalist to persevere like that?  

Parashar’s journey began as a newbie reporter in 1995. Since then, he has worked in large media organisations like the Indian Express, the Hindustan Times and Dainik Bhaskar group. The Midwife’s Confession is his second documentary film. His first film, Eyes of Darkness: The nation of the blind, won him a national award. I spoke to Parashar about this second documentary film and about the way he pursued this heartbreaking story. Our conversation has been lightly edited for clarity and length. 

Q. What drew you to the story? 

A. I spent my childhood in the Bhagalpur district of Bihar [one of the most underdeveloped parts of the country]. Although I come from a progressive family, I have seen dowry deaths, forced marriages, and kidnappings all around me. So it was an open secret that there was discrimination against girls. If a girl is born, it isn’t shocking that she might be thrown away. If a boy is born, he is always welcomed.  

Interestingly, some women’s names start with the word “phekiya” which literally means “the one who was thrown out”. So, in many ways, the story was always there for me to cover.  The sad part is that female infanticide is still rampant. I still get calls every day about at least one of these incidents in my state, especially now that people know that I am following that story. 

Q: How did you start work on the story?  

A. In June-July of 1995, I was visiting my parents in Purnia, Bihar, when a small news item in a newspaper caught my eye. The Hindustan Times had a short story about an 11-month-old girl who was strangled to death by her own father. He was worried about the future dowry’s expenses. I still have that clipping. I wanted to speak to the mother of the dead child because she had lodged a case against her own husband. I wanted to understand how she felt about it.  

When I went to her house, though, there were too many people crowding her and she was in a bad shape. That is where I met Anila Kumari, who was running an NGO and providing this woman legal help. Anila, who features prominently in the film, saw that I was interested and said she would introduce me to some midwives who had admitted to her that they were involved in killing new-born baby girls. I was shocked when I first heard it.  

Q. How did you make contact with these midwives? How did you convince them to speak on camera?  

A. The day after I met Anila, she invited me to her office. She had called five midwives there to talk to me.  Although she asked me to meet her there, it was clear that she was not a very open person. She held her cards close to her chest.  

I didn't know what to ask these women. It was Anila’s late husband -who broke the ice. He told the women that they should feel free to speak to me now that they are not doing that kind of work anymore.  

First, [a midwife named] Hakiya began speaking openly. She is the most frank and open. She convinced other women to speak up. Initially, the women were uncomfortable and reluctant to speak to me. There were no cameras at that point. I had stumbled upon this story and wasn’t prepared. But, once they began speaking, I knew that this was not a print story.  

Over a period of time, they began ignoring the camera. That is when I got the best perspective into their lives. Overtime, I became a part of their lives.  

Q. You have grown up with the story, so to speak. Do you remember your view on the story when you began reporting it? 

A. I returned to the village after six months with a camera person. I had to pay INR 4500 per day (around $50) to rent the camera, which was close to half of my monthly salary. But this time I filmed the midwives’ confessions. Despite that, I was unsure of how to report the story. I was a young journalist and didn’t understand the sensitivity of the situation. 

At that time, I thought I would become famous. I had something no one else did. Every young reporter is like that. But I didn't understand that I didn't know anything at all: who these women were, what caste they belonged to, what it meant to kill a new-born baby, why they would do such a heinous thing. I didn't understand the depth of the story.  

I only understood that when I became a more mature reporter. So I’ve never abandoned the story, even after it was done. 

Q. When the midwives confessed their crimes, they said, “We used to kill new born girls years ago”. They speak in past tense. How did you know this story was not over yet? 

A. My approach to the story has always been similar throughout my career. It is in my nature to have a long term association with my sources. I am not in touch with them only when there is work. I am constantly in touch with them. Even now, after the film is released, I am still talking to each character on a weekly basis. That is my nature.  

So the more I interacted with the midwives, the more I began to realise that those interviews were just confessions. There was no soul in the interviews I had. The soul of the story was in their personal journeys. For me, the characters are bigger than the issues. If you find the right character, then your story is always alive.  

One of the main characters in the film is [a midwife named] Siro. I saw her as a very responsible person towards her family. She has three daughters. The first daughter was married off before she met me. The second one was sold to someone because Siro couldn't pay her dowry. And there is no trace of her daughter since that time. I have constantly seen Siro’s pain over the years.   

“Sold” in those areas means there are men who come and bring a lot of money and gifts and take the girl away. The girl’s family considers them married off. I often wondered: if she is so responsible towards her own girls, how could she kill another mother’s daughter with her own two hands? So now the story is not limited to female infanticide. It goes beyond it, you see? 

Whenever I met the midwives, I would look at their hands. Would they really have strangled a new-born they helped birth? But here was Siro using that money she earned as a midwife for her own daughters’ dowry. That factor disturbed me a lot. 

Q. What were the top challenges you faced while reporting this story?  

A. There were times when I didn’t have full access to the characters because I am a man. In those cases, I used the help of my colleagues. For example, while the women were delivering babies, I couldn’t be in the same room to shoot.  

We were also afraid of how people would see Siro. But I was so pleasantly surprised to see that no one said she should be jailed. The audience empathised with her. They understood her situation. She was moved away from her house for security reasons for a couple of weeks, so we could ensure her safety. But all is well.  

Q. Are you satisfied with the impact of your film? 

A. I would say the change has been incremental and not necessarily because of my reporting. The first scene of the film where two girls are going to study/work on a bicycle was shot early in the morning. That was such a powerful image. The girls look like they are in control of their lives. I have seen the change happen over a period of time.  

Dowry demands are reduced if the girl is well educated. But the vulnerable still have to pay for it. So I am not sure if I made much of an impact. I am happy that my film is made, but the fact that society has not changed fast enough haunts me. Some comments on the YouTube link of the film shocked me. People have written in detail about their experiences with dowry or sex selection. I think that is my most important achievement: that I made people comfortable enough to share personal details in a public forum. 

Q. What advice do you have for younger journalists who want to do these kinds of deep dives into stories? 

A. Whenever you identify a character, then try hard to develop trust. People don’t like to be used. They should never feel used. You should be genuine with them and connect at a human level.