‘ Hello, this is Bank of Bodies,’ cooed the operator. ‘ If you have the soul, we have the body. How may we help you, sir?’ The operator sounded nice, the rich warm contralto loaded with promise, but there was a time and place for everything. Sanjeev Verma was brisk and businesslike. ‘ I need one hand for Pappu Verma, Super Milky skin tone. You have the rest of the specs. The operation has to happen no later than tomorrow.’ ‘ Just hold on, sir.’ The gentle strains of a bhajan wafted over the phone, rendered comtemporary and peppy by the judicious addition of a disco beat rhythmic chants, and what appeared to be castanets adding that essential Latin touch. The whispered lyrics were in heavily sanskritized Hindi, and strove to establish a connection between the Bank of Bodies, Lord Krishna and the Competent Authority. Sanjeev gritted his teeth and waited.