“Baby for Sale?” — A Kuala Lumpur Taxi Conversation I’ll Never Forget

It was my first year in Kuala Lumpur, and I was going through one of the hardest phases of my life. My husband and I had been married for three years, trying for a baby all along and failing.

Even our first IVF attempt hadn’t worked. The quiet weight of infertility sat heavy on my heart, though I rarely spoke about it. I found my retreat at a children’s home in Petaling Jaya, where I volunteered as a teacher.

Among the neglected, abused, and abandoned, I found unexpected healing. The children’s laughter felt like medicine their chaos filled the hollow space inside me where my own dreams of motherhood had stalled.

One evening, I hopped into a taxi on my way home. The driver was a cheerful Malay guy, chatty in that classic KL way. We talked about traffic, weather, random bits of life…

and then he asked, "Kak ada anak tak?" ("Do you have kids?")

I said no. "Dah kahwin berapa lama?" ("How long have you been married?")

"Three years," I replied.

He paused. "Still no baby?"

That one stung a little. I wanted to snap back, “Is it your business?” But I didn’t.

I forced a polite smile and said softly, "We’re trying… but it’s not our time yet."

The car went quiet for a moment. Then, out of nowhere, he asked: "Kak… betul ke nak baby?" ("Do you really want a baby?")

I froze. In my head, alarms went off. Is he… offering himself? My brain short-circuited trying to process the question.

Before I could speak, he leaned forward slightly and said, almost conspiratorially: "Kalau betul nak… saya boleh tolong cari." ("If you really want… I can help you find one.")

And just like that, I understood. He wasn’t flirting. He was literally offering to source a baby like one might offer to find a good durian seller.

I laughed awkwardly, shook my head, and said as politely as I could, "Tak lah bang… belum ready untuk macam tu." ("No, abang… I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of arrangement.")

As I sat there in silence, watching the KL traffic crawl by, I couldn’t help but think: You really never know what you’re going to get in a Kuala Lumpur taxi.

Life has a funny way of throwing surprises at you when you least expect them. That day, I walked in carrying the quiet ache of infertility, and walked out laughing at the absurdity of being offered a baby in a taxi.

Sometimes, healing comes not from answers… but from the moments that make you smile through the struggle.