I am a master in India

Chapter 37 Everyone is evil
Mary eventually arranged for her Brazilian friend Luca to meet Ron at Leopold's Bar.

There were several patrolmen at Victoria Station, and Mary was worried that if she met him there she would be trapped.

Such worries were undoubtedly unnecessary, as she knew nothing about Ron's reputation in the police circle, but Ron still accepted the advice.

Leopold's Bar is one of the largest bars and restaurants in Colaba and one of the most famous in Mumbai.

The first-floor lobby of the bar is divided into several similar areas by several columns, and mirrors are covered on the columns and blank walls.

Customers can secretly look at others or wink at their favorite targets without turning their heads in their seats.

For many guests, it is very interesting to see their own image reflected in two or more mirrors at the same time.

Over time, Leopold's Bar became a place where people came to see others, be seen, and see themselves being seen.

There are about thirty tables in the hall, each with a top made of Indian smoked pearl marble and paired with four to six cedar chairs.

When Ron arrived here, Mary, Lena, and a young man were already sitting together talking and laughing.

"Hey, Ron!" Mary and Lena waved to him at the same time.

"Am I late?" Ron asked, sitting down between them.

"We wanted to come over early for a drink. You know, my face is almost stiff from smiling at so many people every day," Mary complained.

"Oh, that makes me sound like a heartless capitalist."

"That's right! Sooner or later, we will suffer a crushing defeat at your hands!" Mary and Lena hugged his arms on the left and right, laughing together.

It was not until the waiter brought Ron a glass of beer that Mary remembered she had other important things to do today.

"Ron, let me introduce you. This is Luca." Then she turned to the young man with thick black hair. "This is Ron. I told you that foreigners in Mumbai go to him when they encounter trouble."

"Hello." Both sides shook hands in a friendly manner.

"Honestly, mate, you don't look Brazilian at all." Ron looked him over again.

Luca was about thirty years old, with thick, curly black hair that reached the collar. He wore a denim shirt and loose canvas trousers.

"Have you ever dealt with Brazilians?" Luca asked in surprise.

"I meet tourists from more than ten countries every day, and the ethnicities I meet are so diverse that I wouldn't even come here myself. But no matter what, I rarely see Brazilians with high noses and blue eyes."

“Okay.” Luca put down his glass. “As far as food goes, I’m French. As far as looks go, I’m Italian. As far as business goes, I’m Swiss—very Swiss, strictly neutral.”

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Even the races are becoming international now?"

Several people laughed so hard that people at the neighboring table kept looking at them.

"Dude, that's what I was going to say. You don't look Indian at all. Whether it's looks or other aspects, you know, his every move is more like a Westerner than you."

"Yeah, this guy is so charming! Especially since he is a real Indian." This wonderful combination really attracted Mary and Lena.

"Okay, let's talk about you." Ron turned his glass towards him. "Mary said you're having some trouble with your visa?"

Luca dropped his smile and lowered his voice, "It's expired. You know, Ron, this is very inconvenient in Mumbai."

Every hotel in Mumbai that receives foreigners must produce a foreign guest registration form, which contains the foreigner's name, passport code, and visa validity date.

This registration form is also called "C Form" and the police will conduct random checks from time to time.

Staying in the country after a visa has expired is a serious crime in India, punishable by up to two years in prison.

If the hotel owner dares to tamper with the information on Form C, he will be fined heavily by the police if he is caught. So in Luca's current situation, it would be difficult for him to find a safe place to stay in Mumbai without reliable connections.

There are small private shops in corners, but few foreigners dare to stay there. Losing property is a small matter, but losing life is a big deal.

"How long has your visa been expired?" Ron asked.

"Three months."

"I'm surprised you're still alive today."

"I'm lucky. I've been in rural areas before, and the police there don't care about these things at all. But it's different in Mumbai. I was almost questioned last night, but luckily I found a chance to get away."

Normally, if a foreigner's visa has just expired, even if the Indian police find out, they will give a grace period to renew it.

But it was definitely not three months, and Ron didn't know if that was true because he was lucky.

“How long do you want to stay in Bombay?”

"I'll find business, and I'll leave if I find business."

"That's not a safe idea. The longer you wait, the more likely you are to be discovered."

"That's why I came to see you, Ron. I've been to the backpacker base in Mumbai, and many people there have mentioned your name. Of course, I know the rules, and I will pay some compensation for this."

When saying the word "remuneration", Lukat specifically made an "S" gesture, meaning that he would pay in US dollars.

"What's your offer? Let me make it clear first, getting the visa issue sorted isn't just my responsibility."

"Of course, but are we going to talk here?" Luca looked around guiltily. There were many other guests in the bar hall.

This was not the first time Ron had seen such an uneasy expression. They were not used to plotting in public, but this was India.

"Luca, it seems you really need to get to know Mumbai again." Ron smiled and raised his chin, "Did you see that Australian guy next to the fruit?
The man with long blond hair and the girl in red wanted to buy hemp. The man sitting opposite them, with a big beard, was a broker.

The two sides are now negotiating a price. Once the deal is agreed, the guy on the street with a dirty shirt, bare feet, and a bamboo basket in his hand will hand over the hemp grass to them.

And those guys in the corner, dressed in those smart Western jeans and jackets, they're in the passport business. You know what a passport is? It takes longer than your visa.

Luca was stunned. "So this bar."

"Relax, we're only talking about business here, not transactions."

"What do you mean?"

"After agreeing on a price at the bar, they would walk outside, hand over the money and the goods, then walk back to the bar and sit back at their original table.

Even when officials accept bribes, the two parties reach a verbal agreement in a dark compartment upstairs, and then shake hands and pay on the sidewalk outside to seal the deal.

This is the rule, no police will come here to cause trouble, it has become a common practice among everyone."

"This is so fucking cool!" After searching his mind for a long time, Luca could only use this swear word to express his surprise and admiration.

"Now, let's talk about your visa issue. How long do you expect it to take? This has to do with how difficult it would be for the hotel owner to tamper with the C form, and of course, it also has to do with the remuneration you need to pay."

Luca stared at Ron hesitantly for a while, and finally took out a note from his waist bag.

"Visas are a small business. Are you interested in this?"

Ron took it and looked at it, raising his eyebrows.

(End of this chapter)