I am a master in India

Chapter 103 Cows and Horses
Ashish is a short but athletic man in his twenties who, like most young people in Mumbai, grew up in a slum.

The Indian girl who was burned to death lived in the slums of Jogeshwari district not far from here, and Ashish even visited her.

Now the area has been cordoned off by the government, and no one, whether Hindus or Muslims, is allowed to approach.

The reason is that they are worried about causing another conflict between the two sects, but many public welfare organizations are not buying it. They believe that the case should be thoroughly investigated and the Shiv Sena's atrocities cannot be let go without investigation.

But who cares? At least not Ashish, who is also a Hindu and naturally leans towards the Shiv Sena.

Rather than investigating the riot case, he cared more about where to find a job tomorrow and when he could move out of this damn place.

When he was in second grade, his parents became seriously ill. His father, who worked the low-paid night shift at a car repair shop, developed an intestinal ulcer, which later developed appendicitis.

His mother had a tumor in her stomach, and she would rub her belly and whine after every meal. This is how life is for the poor: because of the poor food environment, the stomach and intestines are the first to be overwhelmed.

Over the past three years, Ashish's parents have been in and out of the hospital frequently, and his father was once diagnosed with "not much time left."

Apart from Ashish, there is only one older sister in the family. The siblings depend on each other for survival, while their relatives are indifferent to them.

They wished that both Ashish's parents would die so that they could inherit a fortune of 30,000 rupees.

Ashish's parents live in Cooper Hospital, which is notoriously bad for its food, so most patients have their families bring them meals.

The school had a lunch break at 42:, and Ashish ran out and took the No. bus home. His sister had packed food in an insulated box and was waiting for him. His sister went to a girls' school and had come home before him to cook lunch.

Ashish would rush to the hospital with his insulated box before visiting hours ended at 2 p.m. But he would often be stopped outside by the guards who told him he had to wait until the next visiting hour, at 4 p.m.

He begged hard, saying that his parents were in the ward on the second floor, hungry and eagerly waiting for him, but the guard was unyielding. Ashish was a penniless child, so he had to sit by the hospital gate and wait for two hours, letting his food quickly cool down.

He watched other patients' families give money to the guards, and they would let them in without saying a word. It only takes 10 rupees to bribe the guards, but Ashish couldn't even come up with that much.

At that time, Ashish was thinking, if he couldn’t even deliver food to his parents, what was the point of living?
If a person wants to live, he must live well. In Mumbai, you must know how to make money. And he will do murder and arson as long as it can make money.

The book said that three-quarters of India's population had a life expectancy of less than 25 years, and Ashish didn't want his parents to become one of them.

He really wants his parents to live a better life, and he hopes to surpass them in the future.

Once this expectation is dashed, the desperate anger has nowhere to vent, and no family can withstand this anger.

In India, being unemployed is like living in purgatory. Before the age of 18, you were raised as a son and your family did their best to give you the best.

Every day you are always the first to eat, followed by your father, mother, and finally your sister.

Our family was not well off. Your father had to smoke fewer packs of cigarettes, your mother was reluctant to buy a new sari, and your sister did not go to school just to save money for your education.

So when you become an adult at the age of eighteen, you are burdened with the high hopes of your entire family.

You dare not turn back, for you know what your family's dreams are. You've seen them humiliate themselves and endure immense hardship for years, hoping only for you to rise to the top.

You've enjoyed a life of luxury since childhood, and now you feel guilty about it. It's time for you to repay your gratitude. Your sister is getting married, your mother is seriously ill, and your father is about to retire. It's time for you to take over the burden of this family.

This is a true portrayal of Ashish's life over the past two decades, and now he has graduated.

He went looking for a job with his diploma and bachelor's degree, but found that large companies either were not hiring or had withdrawn from the Indian market due to the riots.

Small companies only hired relatives of existing employees, and he, a poor boy who grew up in the slums, had no connections in Mumbai.

Ashish had almost no choice, and he even considered taking risks and joining the gang or joining the Shiv Sena as a thug.

At the same time, Ashish also has to reassure his family that their investment in him has not been in vain.

He could be beaten and rejected, but he could not fail to fulfill his obligations as a son and could not face the disappointed faces of his family.

It doesn’t matter if you go out early and come back late, or go out late and come back early, as long as you can earn money to support your family.

He owes them this, this is his life.

There are many young people like this in Mumbai, and Ashish is just an insignificant one among them.

Ashish walked along the path, one step deep and one step shallow, into the depths of the alley, where his home was located. If an outsider came in without a guide, he would definitely get lost in the maze-like alleys.

His family's house was a run-down structure made of bamboo and plaster, but they had renovated it over the years, adding a tin roof and slightly reinforcing the walls.

The four of them lived happily together in a house with only one room, just like most standard slums.

The room contained only a metal folding chair for "VIPs only", a low stool for regular guests to take turns sitting on, a camp bed, a simple wardrobe, a gas stove, a small dining table and several shelves.

This was all Ashish's family had, and he slept on the camp bed most of the time. His parents slept in the kitchen, which was the stove a few steps inside the room, and his sister slept under the table.

The furniture in the room constantly changes its function according to different needs: the bed used for sleeping at night serves as a sofa during the day, and the dining table becomes a desk when not eating.

All the members of Ashish's family are masters of disguise. Hiding behind curtains or wrapped in towels, they can take off their pajamas and put on formal clothes in just a moment.

Their movements were lightning fast, and if an outsider saw them for the first time, they would almost think they were invisible. However, they couldn't really be invisible after all, and the people in the same room had learned to look away when the other person was changing clothes.

Ashish, dreaming of a day when he could have his own room, walked into the house. His father was sitting on the floor shelling peas. Overhead, a plastic clothesline hung, damp clothes dangling from it. The family gathered around a young man, chatting and laughing, their words tinged with calculated warmth and flattery.

Ashish's eyes fixed on the young man in the "VIP chair" who looked familiar.

"Ashish, are you interested in a job? A serious job that might require your expertise." Adi asked him with a smile.

Ron met Ashish at the textile factory. His home in the Jogeshwari slum is not far from here, after all, it is in the central suburbs of Mumbai.

"What major did you study?"

“Mechanical engineering.”

"Do you understand fluid mechanics?"

"No problem!" Ashish said without hesitation.

"What about basic electricity?"

"No problem!" Ashish still held his head high.

Ron looked at him suspiciously until the latter felt a little guilty.

"I actually know a little bit about them all, but I'm cheap to hire, cheaper than other college students in Mumbai!" Ashish emphasized.

"How cheap is it?" Ron became interested.

Ashish's mind raced, and he gritted his teeth, "Two thousand rupees!"

Their family's minimum monthly expenditure is 150 rupees, which is enough to cover their food needs. Forget about food and clothing. Living in a slum, what else can you expect?

Ashish wants to save the remaining money. His family has already set their sights on an apartment in north Mumbai, which costs about tens of thousands of rupees.

In just five years, they will be able to move into the apartment they have dreamed of countless times.

Although it is in the north of Mumbai, a veritable urban-rural fringe, there is not even a bus stop.

But it was a place to stay, a real home after all. He didn't have to hide out of the house while his sister was changing clothes.

His sister's dowry also fell on him. She was already in her twenties and was considered an old maid in her hometown in the countryside.

More than 80% of Mumbai's population cannot earn 2,000 rupees, but for undergraduates, this price is not high.

Only a returnee like Kavya, with the valuable status of a journalist, could sign a contract of 4,000 to 5,000 rupees right after graduation.

Ron was noncommittal about Ashish's offer. In the latter's nervous eyes, he first took a look at the other party's resume.

Ismail Yusuf College, from the name, seems to be a university founded by Muslims, but Ashish is a Hindu.

It's a bit funny, but the Mughals seem to place more emphasis on education. The famous University of Mumbai was said to have been founded with funding from the Mughals.

If Ashish had graduated from Mumbai University, Ron would have signed him at any price.

This Yusuf College is probably a fake one, so you can only use it as is.

"Let me first tell you what the factory will be building next. If you can come up with a reliable design, I'll hire you as the chief engineer of Sur Electric."

"Okay!" Ashish cheered up and vowed to get the job.

The situation in Mumbai will probably get worse this year. If he can't find a job, he will really join the gang.

Ron briefly explained the concept of a water-cooled air conditioner to him. It wasn't complicated. Compared to an electric fan, it only had a water circulation and evaporation system.

Ashish was secretly amazed by this idea. He had even imitated the principle of water air conditioning when he was a child.

Pick up some plastic bottles from the garbage dump, cut off the bottoms of the bottles, then tie several bottles together and stick them to the cover of the electric fan.

At this time, just sprinkle some water in from the bottle mouth to wet the plastic wall, and then turn on the electric fan, and the simplest "water air conditioner" or "earth air conditioner" is ready.

It's just that he never thought of commercializing it and making it into a smaller, more beautiful and more scientific electrical appliance.

This did not pose a problem for him. He had wanted to be an engineer since he was a child, and he studied his professional courses very seriously.

For Ashish, transforming from a Vaishya into an engineer is almost halfway to completing his life goals.

Looking at the other person's energetic back, Ron nodded with satisfaction. The automatic worker was about to come online.

Well, he was also very satisfied with the name of Sur Electric Appliances.

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(End of this chapter)