Mumbai’s forgotten mothers–a shadowy chapter of Swiss adoptions

The cover of the book is the familiar Asha Sadan. Pics/Courtesy Chronos Verlag

Asha Sadan is a Mumbai landmark, inseparable from the city's history. Located in Dongri, it is a place I have often passed - familiar yet easy to overlook. Established in 1921 by an Indian women's association, it has long sheltered women and children, particularly unmarried mothers and their babies. Many of these children were placed for adoption, sometimes within India but often abroad.

I flipped through Mother Unknown: Adoption of Children from India in the Swiss Cantons of Zurich and Thurgau, 1973-2002. As I was drawn in by its focus on Mumbai and the children adopted overseas, I noticed the cover image - Asha Sadan. Two of the authors were credited with the photograph, though it does not explicitly identify the building, perhaps for the right reasons. The open-access book is edited by Andrea Abraham, Sabine Bitter and Rita Kesselring and published by Chronos Verlag (Zurich).

Asha Sadan's sponsoring association, the Maharashtra State Women's Council, was chaired by the Swiss Alice Khan-Meier. It was a popular adoption agency for many Swiss couples

Based on a study commissioned by the two Swiss cantons, Mother Unknown investigates intercountry adoptions, exposing legal and ethical lapses that left many adoptees without a clear record of their origins. It revisits cases of Indian children sent to Switzerland, and questions authorities which neglected safeguards in these adoptions; there is also a focus on serious consequences for those who grew up with incomplete, false or untraced identities.

The findings highlight systemic failures - how Swiss authorities approved adoptions despite missing documentation, inconsistent consent processes, and inadequate legal oversight. Originally published in German as part of a larger research project on transnational adoptions and supplemented by a comprehensive website, the book goes beyond legalities. It acknowledges the deeply personal search for identity that many adoptees undertake, revealing how gaps in records continue to affect their lives.

Indian children were introduced to Swiss traditions and customs by their adoptive families

Mother Unknown brings birth mothers, often erased from the adoption process, into the picture. "How did they make their decision to separate from their child? With whom could they share this experience? And how do they feel about their decision today? These are questions that bother me - both as a researcher and as a woman," says author Andrea Abraham, Professor of Social Work at Bern University of Applied Sciences. She studies biographical and transgenerational ruptures that occur when a child dies, falls seriously ill, grows up in foster care, or is adopted.

Across the book, we meet real mothers - women torn between love and circumstance, forced to make the agonising choice of giving up their children for adoption. Each story reveals a tangled web of heartache and necessity. For instance, one girl was just 12 when she was raped by her uncle in a milk storage room. Fear, family ties and shame kept her silent. By the time she spoke up, it was too late for an abortion. With no other option, she carried the pregnancy to term in a shelter far from home. At 13, she endured childbirth only to relinquish the baby soon after.

Many adoption agencies were run by institutions of the Roman Catholic Church and were helped by donations from adoptive parents

One mother, a bidi roller in a 1980s Mangaluru tobacco factory, had no choice. Her job depended on her silence when supervisors demanded more than just work. Pregnant, with no time for a hospital visit or a private decision, she gave birth, left the newborn behind and disappeared into the night. "If they didn't agree, they lost their jobs," recalled a gynaecologist who treated many such women.

Another woman, housed in a shelter, found a refuge that felt like a prison. Rules were strict, routines rigid. One social worker described such institutions as places where daily life was dictated, personal agency stripped away. At one mahilashram, unwed mothers occupied the lowest rung. Some fled. Others stayed long enough to give birth and sign away their rights, pressured by families or institutions that saw them as an embarrassment.

As the book recounts, one mother held her baby for mere moments before hospital staff took the child away, preventing any bond. Another, forced to breastfeed for health reasons, found it agonising. She was made to temporarily care for her child in the shelter - until adoption was arranged.

Some women fought to leave something - a name, a letter, a tiny keepsake. Mother Unknown interviewed social worker Kinjal Sethi, who pioneered farewell rituals, helping mothers write notes to their children. "Behave well in your new home," one letter read. Others stated: "Be a good boy/ girl."

Some mothers found comfort in this act. Others said they preferred to live without this memory.

Between the 1970s and 1990s, Switzerland facilitated numerous adoptions from India, Sri Lanka, and other countries. Investigations later uncovered widespread irregularities - child trafficking, falsified documents - leaving many adoptees feeling betrayed.

Anita, adopted by a Swiss couple in the late 1970s, grew up in Zurich, always aware of her differences. As an adult, she travelled to India to trace her roots, only to find her adoption records incomplete. The search underscored the emotional toll and complexities of international adoptions in that era.

Ravi, adopted by a Thurgau family in the early 1980s, struggled to balance his Indian heritage with Swiss culture. Encouraged to assimilate, he suppressed his roots. As an adult, he sought to reconnect with India, facing challenges in integrating both identities.

For adoptees, tracing origins is more than uncovering lineage - it's an emotional, often painful journey revealing the lasting impact of adoptions conducted without oversight. Of Switzerland's 2278 Indian adoptions (1973-2002), only a fraction have been investigated. Each adoptee navigates a web of loss, love and belonging.

The book is a vital contribution to an evolving conversation - one that goes beyond adoption to how families are formed across borders. With no global regulations on surrogacy, egg donation or assisted reproduction, the same ethical lapses that plagued intercountry adoptions risk repeating. Mother Unknown calls for a deeper reckoning, urging us to centre the voices of surrogate mothers and children, confront the inequalities shaping adoption choices.

The book upholds the fundamental human right to know one's roots. In doing so, it not only examines history but also lights the path ahead for more thoughtful and ethical family-building practices, which we need in our global village.

2278
Switzerland's Indian adoptions from 1973 to 2002, of which only a fraction have been looked into

Sumedha Raikar-Mhatre is a culture columnist in search of the sub-text. You can reach her at sumedha.raikar@mid-day.com