I am a master in India

Chapter 131 Old Lal's Assist
Early in the morning, Ron came down from Hela's apartment feeling guilty.

In the end, he made the mistake that all men make. He slept with his best friend's dream girl.

The passport issue would take about two weeks to complete. He also needed to think carefully about Luca's situation and try to drain the corrupt official's pockets.

Ron felt no guilt at all for doing this.

But before that, he had to go back to the travel agency as Vinod was about to return from Dubai.

At the office of the Mumbai Tourism Information Company in the Fort area, the place was no longer as quiet as before, with dozens of men and women bustling around.

They were all migrant workers returning from the Bay Area countries, and Vinod also did some business on his way back.

The table at the office reception is filled with air tickets, visas, work permits, and hotel accommodation vouchers handled by travel agencies.

The crowd chattered non-stop, some were counting foreign currency in their hands, and some were fiddling with their jewelry.

"Are these people commissioned by Hadhan?" Ron looked at the lively scene in front of him with a happy expression.

"Yes, a total of one hundred people. We are responsible for their air tickets, accommodation, and various visa issues. Here is the bill." Vinod handed him the document bag in his hand.

Ron opened it and scanned it. Not bad, he'd made 30 rupees on this trip. Besides the service fee, there was also money to be made from buying flights, arranging accommodations, and doing intermediary work.

"Ron, Khad Khan's business is huge." Suddenly, Vinod reminded him in his ear.

"Did you find something?"

"You can see it without even noticing it. Look over there."

Following his gaze, Ron looked at the group of returning migrant workers. Someone was collecting foreign currency from them one by one, in small and large pieces, without missing a single one.

Soon, bundles of foreign currency were taken away, and brand new rupees were handed to the workers, who sniffed them with delight, as if they were very satisfied with the transaction.

Ron roughly estimated that at least millions of rupees were exchanged, and the money was flowing before his eyes.

He was prepared. After all, this was something that had been agreed upon long ago, so there was nothing strange about it.
Um? wrong!

After exchanging the money, those people began to take off their jewelry, both men and women.

Rings, necklaces, brooches, earrings, bracelets...all gold!

"Each of them can take back 100 to 300 grams of gold, which is the maximum amount allowed by customs. The gold will then be sent to a small workshop nearby for reprocessing before being sold at the Zaveri Jewelry Souk."

Vinod was amazed. He had never seen such a big deal in his life.

Ron thought of what Pant had once said to him: Khad Khan has a big appetite, and your travel agency earns less than one percent of what he does.

Looking back, this statement is not an exaggeration at all.

"Do you know where gold comes from?" he asked.

"There are many channels for buying gold jewelry in the black market in the Persian Gulf countries. Some are bought legally, and some are stolen. Drug addicts, pickpockets, and burglars from all over Europe and Africa steal gold jewelry and sell it to stolen goods collectors.

The gold then flows from the black market in Frankfurt or London to ports across the Persian Gulf. Khad Khan has agents in Dubai, Abu Dhabi, and Bahrain who melt the gold into crude necklaces, rings, and bracelets.

This was no secret; Indians working in the Persian Gulf countries knew about it and were happy to bring gold back to their country for Khad Khan because they were paid.

Now that we've arrived at the location, of course we have to hand over our things and take the tip.

Human gold, simple and extremely low risk.

Damn, compared to others, the 300,000 rupees he earned was not even a drop in the bucket.

"I heard that in the past few years, Khad Khan's annual income from gold trading alone exceeded four million US dollars." Vinod revealed another piece of information.

Ron was jealous. Four million US dollars is more than 100 million rupees.

Even if his Suer Electric Appliance Factory runs non-stop 365 days a year, it may not be able to make that much money.

Smuggling can really make you rich.

Khad Khan did not have to pay taxes, and he filled the pockets of all the government officials so well that there was no trouble at all.

“But it’s no longer possible now. India has liberalized the gold trade, and the profits from smuggling have dropped by more than half compared to before.” Vinod’s tone was quite regretful, as if he was regretting not being able to make a fortune sooner.

"We just need to do the travel agency business. That's not something we can handle." Ron quickly calmed down.

“Travel agencies are not bad either,” Vinod said, shaking his head happily again, “At least it’s not that dangerous, just like traveling.”

"There will be another group of people in two days, about 300 people. You continue to lead the team." Ron instructed him.

“No problem!” Vinod rubbed his hands eagerly.

Ron needs to call the office in Dubai and ask them to develop more agency work.

Although the service charge of 2000 rupees per person was very tempting, he also wanted more.

These are all legitimate businesses, you can invest heavily without any worries.

According to the plan made by Ron and Hardhan, they will send 5,000 people abroad this year.

Ron could earn Rs 1 crore just from service fees.

But this is not enough. Five thousand people mean huge resources, which can be further squeezed.

Entering the travel agency, Ron instructed the employees there to create files for the workers outside.

All this information had to be stored in the computer for maintenance, as it might be needed in the future. Mumbai's travel industry was still struggling, and his company relied entirely on the travel agency business for support.

Old Lal was in a bad mood. He was in the studio at the moment, shooting an advertisement for Sur Electric Appliances.

He wanted the expression of enjoyment when the cool breeze blew, and the anxiety when the heat was unbearable, but the actor's emotions were never right.

"I'm angry," Lal Sr. said into the microphone on the set, his tone dark. "Your performance was devoid of passion."

Everyone in the crew lowered their heads in silence, and Manisha was the most embarrassed among them, as the so-called actors were only her and another child.

What kind of passion do you expect from a child's performance? Without a doubt, the director was talking about her.

The camera shows Manisha's residence in the advertisement, which is a typical middle-class home layout with a TV, kitchen, and German-style bathroom.

There was a circle of green cloth around, and the red light of the camera in the distance was flashing very slowly.

There were about fifty or sixty people on the scene, including lighting technicians, sound engineers, actors, stagehands, and a large group of people who had absolutely nothing to do.

"Few people know what they're doing," Lal Sr. said with disgust. "That's why our films are so crude. It's not like in Hollywood, where everyone is a professional.

The mess I'm in charge of isn't a film crew, it's a re-employment center. So many people won't work unless they're whipped."

The Indian film industry, like any industry in the country, employs far more people than it actually needs.

Just to turn on the light, five or six people gathered around, and three more stood on the side watching the fun.

Manisha kept saying the wrong lines, and the crew had to reshoot with her over and over again.

“Mr. Lal, please come here,” she pleaded after the latest rehearsal.

Old Lal stood still. "You don't need me to come over. You need memorize your lines. Memorize! Your lines!"

If it weren't for Ron's preferences, he would have fired the actor long ago.

Being young and beautiful is her asset, but if she doesn’t have professional qualities, who will fail if not her?
Manisha felt very aggrieved. She had memorized her lines long ago and spoke English fluently.

However, who would have thought that during the actual filming, they were suddenly asked to switch to Hindi.

A message came from All India Television that all advertisements broadcast on the station must be dubbed in Hindi. This applies to news broadcasts, interviews, and TV programs.

This is a mandatory requirement of the Indian government, with the aim of promoting Hindi and unifying the language of the entire country as much as possible.

Many people, including Manisha, found it difficult to adapt. She is Nepali, and although Nepali and Hindi are very similar, she has been learning English since elementary school.

The director wouldn't listen to her explanation, and the people on the set didn't care either, so Manisha could only bear the grievance herself.

Until a tall and handsome figure entered the set, bringing the light of the world.

"What's wrong, Manisha?" Ron asked with concern.

"Dr. Sur, I. I..." Manisha was about to cry.

Ron looked at Old Lal, who waved his hand helplessly, "Ron, comfort her."

"Let's talk inside." Ron helped Manisha to the lounge on the set.

"What happened?" The onlookers at the scene asked, looking at their backs.

"I heard that Manisha is not feeling well and Dr. Sur is going to give her an injection," another person replied.

In the lounge, Manisha was crying in Ron's arms. She was very strong on the set, but when she saw Ron, she suddenly couldn't hold it in.

"Okay, don't worry, we have plenty of time. I can postpone the All India Television for a few more days." Ron stroked her back gently.

"How can that be? What will people in Bollywood think of me in the future?" Manisha suddenly became stubborn.

"Okay, then I'll accompany you."

"Really?" Manisha looked up at him.

She has slightly plump lips, a slender neck, big eyes and a small, slightly upturned nose.

A pair of watery eyes are captivating, and coupled with an aggrieved expression, it makes people love and pity her.

Ron couldn't help but lower his head, and Manisha stammered, her whole body stiff.

She has feelings for Ron, but is this too soon?

Her heart was beating wildly, and after a slight struggle, she was immersed in all kinds of wild thoughts.

Ron was domineering and fiery, and Manisha, only 23, found him irresistible.

After a long while, the two reluctantly parted.

"Feeling better now?" Ron asked with a smile.

"Yeah." She was a little shy. She always felt that everything was happening too fast.

"Okay, shall we try again?"

"Yeah!" Manisha was much more determined this time.

PS: It has been reviewed

(End of this chapter)