The devadasi led him easily through the labyrinth of Kamathipura, following directions whispered into her ear by her inner goddess GPS. They came out into the street where a black-and-yellow taxicab awaited them, as if hailed in advance by the good fairy. He did not even go back to the hotel to collect his things, including his precious sable streimel that added five inches to his height when he wore it on the Sabbath, and his cherished velvet bag containing his prayer shawl and phylacteries, trusting that a premium operation like the Taj would overnight it all exquisitely bubbled and bowed back to him in Kolkata. He ordered the driver to take them directly to the airport where he bought two first-class tickets from Mumbai to Kolkata, flying with the girl beside him in the window seat gazing out, marveling at the bed of clouds while gorging on peanuts and Coca Cola, and the two other little girls as his hand luggage stowed at his feet, their cages blanketed with his striped satin kaftan, the silver sheriff’s badge prominently displayed.

“I’m sorry, but they don’t look Jewish to me,” Rebbie-ji concluded after a long silence, when Buki set them down still in their cages at his master’s feet.

Nevertheless, he gave his permission for the two little girls to stay on for the interim at the House of Holy Healing until a suitable home could be found for them through Charlotte’s benevolent intervention. It was an act of hessed; loving-kindness is not an exclusive commodity to be dispensed only to other Jews. He would call them Bilha and Zilpah, like the concubines of Jacob, and maybe when they got a little stronger they could help out around the ashram until their case was settled. In general, however, it would be preferable not to bring any more such unfortunates into the sanctuary of the House of Holy Healing, if Buki didn’t mind, he should not take this as a criticism.

The devadasis, on the other hand, were another matter. True, they too were not Jewish, but they represented a feminine model for union with the divine so sorely missing in Jewish practice. We need our nuns, which is why it is permissible for us to squat here in the strict Mother’s old convent still creaking with the agonies of the tortured Christian God, and we also need our devadasis. There was a great deal to be learned about divine female power from the devadasis through dance and other physical forms of worship. They are artists of spirituality. Rebbie-ji charged Buki with the task of organizing a team to buy up as many devadasis as possible. Buki would have access to unlimited funds to purchase them when their virginity went up for sale, and bring them back to the House of Holy Healing. In the meantime, Rebbie-ji gave Buki his blessings as he set out the next morning to Karnataka to keep his word and rescue the sister of the devadasi who had saved his life, like Rahab the harlot.