I am a master in India

Chapter 55 The Boiling Indian Man

"Hey, Ron, come here. Let me introduce you to our friends, Dijan, Kavya, and Viraj."

"Hello, this cup is mine today."

"Yo~!"

At Leopold's Bar, Ron was greeted with cheers as soon as he sat down.

Mary and Lena are about to go to Bollywood to try their hand at acting; their work with Ron is over.

To celebrate regaining their freedom, of course that's what they said, the two of them invited a group of friends to drink.

Dijon was a French man in his early thirties, with thick, curly dark hair and a melancholic expression that gave him an artistic air.

"Hey mate, we were just talking about you." He took the initiative and clinked his glass with Ron.

"What are you talking about me?"

"Lena said you don't like drinking and are like an ascetic. Come, man, we will cure you immediately!"

He imitated Lena's tone and shouted, "Number Four! Give me a beer! What do you want to drink, man? Milk tea? Oh! Number Four! A glass of whiskey!"

"Hey, that's a foul!" laughed Kavya, a Tamil 20-something who had just graduated from university in Los Angeles.

She is beautiful, with honey-colored eyes, plump and shapely lips, and long, talking fingers. She is smart, confident, and courageous.

"Dirang, you don't understand, milk tea is the soul of Indians! Yaar, I have the most say!" Viraj echoed from the side.

He was of Indian descent, of average build and height. But he had a handsome face, with piercing hazel eyes that exuded confidence. His mustache, in particular, curved down along his lips, with distinct, neatly trimmed lines.

"Come on, he's so popular? It's no surprise that Kavya is fascinated by his handsome face. Viraj, don't you have the same idea?" Dirang protested loudly.

This naturally led to the two people's unanimous condemnation, and everyone was arguing and laughing.

"It's not that I don't like drinking, it's just that I can't hold my liquor and tend to do stupid things," Ron explained with a smile.

"Yes, I can prove it!" Lena giggled.

"Damn it! I smell the sour smell of love again!" Di Rang wailed exaggeratedly, holding his head.

"Let's talk about you, man." Viraj looked at Ron. "Mary said you started a company? That's fucking amazing!"

"I've heard about that, too," Dirang interrupted. "There's a rumor circulating on the streets that some guy has recruited a bunch of local tour guides and specializes in foreigners' business. Is that you, buddy? They also say you've got connections with gangsters."

"I just take a cut, like most people do. Of course, I can offer some good rates on foreign exchange rates that others can't."

Ron was being modest; he hadn't deliberately exaggerated his business. There were so many people in the bar, so it wouldn't hurt to keep a low profile.

"That's enough to brag about for a while. How old are you? You look younger than Kavya. When I was your age, I was busy learning Bollywood dance to look cool." Viraj flicked his beloved cowboy hat.

"That's right, come on, cheers!" Di Rang always managed to grasp the subtle points of the atmosphere and make everyone drink up the wine in their hands willingly.

"I heard that you are going to the slums tomorrow?" Mary, who had said little, turned her gaze to Ron.

"Yes, Anand invited me, you know him." Ron shrugged.

"The tour guide who always loves to smile?" Dirang interrupted. He had been in Mumbai for several years and had become a real Indian.

"It's him. We work well together." "It stinks there. I don't know how you can stand it. I would rather die than go to that kind of place." Lena made no secret of her disgust for the slums.

"I'd like to go and see it. I'm very curious." Mary said casually, shocking the whole table into silence.

"Oh my God! Mary, why do you have such an idea? It's too dangerous there!" Lena immediately objected.

"It's just a slum, not a whorehouse. It's not as scary as you think." Mary turned her head and looked at Ron. "So, do you mind taking me with you?"

"Are you sure?" Ron was also a little surprised. "Although there is no danger, it is indeed not that clean there."

"Listen to Ron, Mary. There's nothing curious there. If you want to listen, just let Ron come back and share his experience." Kavya also kindly advised.

Although she comes from Tamil Nadu, a place where the caste system is not so outrageous, slums are still not within her consideration.

"Hey, Kavya. If you want to be a journalist, this won't work. You have to go deep into the grassroots, where you can see the real side of Mumbai." Dirang cheered on the side. He knew that Kavya's goal was to become a journalist.

"Of course I'll go to the ghetto, it's no big deal, I'm just worried about Mary."

“Ahaha, our Kaavia is brave and strong!”

"Okay, stop arguing. No one can hurt me. Have you forgotten? I taught a few Indian guys a lesson."

"That's true." Viraj agreed, and the others no longer objected.

"What happened?" Ron looked at Mary curiously.

"Just a few little thieves." Mary waved her hand nonchalantly.

"Okay, Viraj, tell me about yourself. You just came back from a trip to Denmark. How was it there?" Dirang changed the subject at the right time.

"Denmark is so trendy, so cool. The people there are so educated, they're so damn self-made, I can't believe it.

In Copenhagen, I went to a sauna, and it was a fucking huge place, mixed sex. Yes, everyone was walking around naked together, completely and utterly naked.

But no one reacted, no one stole a glance. Indian men couldn't do that, they'd be seething, I bet!

"So are you boiling, man?" Kavya looked at him with amusement.

"Just kidding! I was the only man there wrapped in a towel, and the only man who reacted!" Viraj looked proud.

"Cheers to Viraj being a normal Indian man!" Dirang raised his glass again.

After a glass of wine, Viraj continued to talk.

"I went there every day for three weeks. I figured if I spent enough time there I'd get used to it, just like those cool Danes."

"What's the result?" Ron asked the question that everyone was concerned about.

"It doesn't work. It doesn't work. Three weeks later I still have to wear a towel. No matter how hard I try to pretend I can't see it, it sticks up when I get to the right place. What can I say? I'm too Indian for that place?"

Everyone banged their tables and laughed. Perhaps because of his mixed-race background, Viraj had a liveliness that Indians didn't have.

"Ron, if you need anything in the slums, tell me your name. I've been to that damn place several times." After drinking a few glasses of wine, he patted his chest enthusiastically.

"Okay, I'll make a note of that." Ron agreed with a smile.

(End of this chapter)