HUBLI, INDIA—The streets of this south Indian city are still sleepy when Rajnandi calls out in her small cement-walled home. “The baby’s coming,” she bellows. Her husband Walter, a labourer at a local factory, bounds through the door and scoops up their 5-year-old daughter Sharon. Within minutes, he’s gunning his scooter through a maze of narrow alleys toward Vaatsalya Hospital, Hubli’s new private health-care centre. Less than 90 minutes later, 32-year-old Rajnandi is stretched out on a bed, four freshly washed and pressed blankets helping to ease her chills, an intravenous line hooked up to her right wrist. In the next bed, her newborn daughter — name still not decided — yawns. Her eyes blink open for the first time. Walter, who like many Indians only uses a single name, says he and his wife decided more than a year ago to have their next baby at Vaatsalya.

HUBLI, INDIA—The streets of this south Indian city are still sleepy when Rajnandi calls out in her small cement-walled home. “The baby’s coming,” she bellows. Her husband Walter, a labourer at a local factory, bounds through the door and scoops up their 5-year-old daughter Sharon. Within minutes, he’s gunning his scooter through a maze of narrow alleys toward Vaatsalya Hospital, Hubli’s new private health-care centre. Less than 90 minutes later, 32-year-old Rajnandi is stretched out on a bed, four freshly washed and pressed blankets helping to ease her chills, an intravenous line hooked up to her right wrist. In the next bed, her newborn daughter — name still not decided — yawns. Her eyes blink open for the first time. Walter, who like many Indians only uses a single name, says he and his wife decided more than a year ago to have their next baby at Vaatsalya.