I am a master in India

Chapter 90 Club

The room was noisy, not only with music but also with people talking and discussing with each other.

In the small corner where Ron and the others were, people occasionally cast inquiring glances at them, but no one came forward to disturb them.

"Have you heard of Lady Elizabeth?" Khad Khan also took a sip of black tea.

"All I know is that she had just arrived in Mumbai and seemed to be planning to do business in the red-light district."

"You're well-informed," Khad Khan said, looking at him in surprise. "But it's also a little outdated."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked curiously.

"That's just the appearance. Elizabeth is not someone without any foundation. She is very powerful and knows many powerful people."

"So she's determined to acquire Sharma's textile mill?"

"Nothing is necessary to Elizabeth; the only difference is whether she sees it or not."

An elderly man, dressed in a plain cotton shirt and baggy, thin trousers, came and sat at Khad Khan's feet. His face was deeply wrinkled, his body was thin and stooped, and he was obviously poor.

The two stopped talking and watched the man grind tobacco and hemp with his rough hands. After a few minutes, he handed a hookah to Khader Khan and lit it with a match.

"This is Omar, the best hookah maker in Mumbai." Khadhan squinted his eyes and spoke.

The man called Omar grinned toothlessly, reveling in the praise, and handed Ron the hookah with a critical eye, ready to assess his technique and lung capacity.

But Ron refused. Mumbai was full of hemp, and he always insisted on this point. Omar was a little dissatisfied. He finished the rest of the hookah in one breath, sucking hard, and his thin chest seemed to be about to burst.

After he cleaned up the remaining white ash from the hookah, he nodded to Hardhan and left without even looking at Ron.

“You’re missing out on the best hookah in Bombay,” Khad Khan laughed. “Omar also runs the hookah parlor in Bandra.”

Ron shrugged. He didn't care. He just didn't expect that Omar, who looked like a poor man, was actually a small boss in a certain area.

"Elizabeth took action yesterday to teach you a lesson. She was warning you." Hardhan finally returned to the point.

"I guess so. Anand told me. Is she really planning to build a 'palace' in that damn place?" Ron frowned.

"A palace? No, it's already been built. Elizabeth bought a former shopping mall in Bandra, three streets away."

"What?" Ron was surprised. "Then why did that happen yesterday? She doesn't need that textile factory at all?"

"There's a Persian saying that sometimes a lion has to roar just to remind a horse of fear. Do you understand that, Ron?"

Ron knew he was the horse. He had dared to ignore Elizabeth's warnings and approached the Shire horse, and at that moment he had become the horse in Elizabeth's eyes.

"That textile factory," Ron paused, his expression serious, "I really want it."

"I can see that. Johnny told me about it when you went north."

Johnny sat next to them and remained very quiet during their conversation. When Hardhan called him, he simply smiled at Ron, a very friendly and cordial smile.

He treated Ron as a friend, more than just an ordinary friend. When he learned that Ron had set foot in another gang's territory, he contacted Hardhan.

In Mumbai, such rash actions sometimes lead to fights. Fortunately, Ron is not from Khad Khan, he is a businessman, which is a good protection.

Gangs may repel each other, but they are mostly friendly towards businessmen, because businessmen can provide them with funds, which can be in the form of kickbacks or bribes, which means money.

Elizabeth didn't deal with Ron directly, but only had him taught a lesson because of this. She couldn't let other merchants feel fear, as that would be detrimental to the gang's "tax revenue."

"That piece of land," Hadhan picked up a piece of dried fruit and put it in his mouth, then took a sip of black tea, "I can help you with it, there won't be any trouble, including for Elizabeth." "What do I need to pay?" Ron asked calmly.

There is no free lunch in the world, and he does not think that his relationship with Khad Khan is good enough to ignore Elizabeth's existence.

Khadhan glanced at the stage. Three singers took the stage, sitting slightly in front of the musicians. The room gradually fell silent, and people subconsciously stopped what they were doing.

"Listen to the song first." Hadehan sat up straight, with the solemnity of a worshipper.

Suddenly, the three singers burst into song, their voices rich and moving. It was multi-layered music, melodious and full of soul.

They not only sang, but also cried and lamented through their songs, tears flowing from their closed eyes and dripping onto their chests.

People sank into the song, feeling sad and worried. They sang three songs in a row, then quietly walked through the curtain, left the stage, and entered another room.

"How's it going, Ron?" asked Hardhan.

"Excellent, I've never heard anything like it, sad and very powerful. Is that in Urdu?"

“Yes, you know Urdu?”

"I'm learning. I'm learning many Indian languages. Marathi, Urdu, Tamil, Bengali."

"I didn't know you were still a linguist." Khadhan looked at him in surprise.

“No, I just want to master more languages ​​so that I can open a travel company in various states in the future.”

"Very good. Urdu is also one of the mainstream languages ​​in the Persian Gulf countries. That will be very helpful to your career." A gleam flashed in Khadhan's eyes.

"Are they blind?" Ron remembered the three singers singing with their eyes closed.

"You don't know? They are the blind singers of Gopurd, very famous in Bombay."

"So they were born blind, or did they become blind later." Ron thought of some very bad rumors.

Some gangs will pick orphans from the streets, and those with singing talent will be blinded artificially. This will allow them to focus more on singing, express their emotions more easily, and gain sympathy.

“They used to be able to see, but a blindness incident occurred in a village near Ghapur and these people became blind.”

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"The village was in a mountainous area near the rebels and bandits, so the villagers had no choice but to offer food and other support. When the police and soldiers arrived, the rebels blinded about 20 people as a lesson, a warning to the other villagers.

This happens all the time. These singers weren't from that village. But they were there to perform, and they had the bad luck to be blinded along with everyone else. All of them, men and women, were tied to the ground, their eyes gouged out with bamboo sticks, and now they're singing here, everywhere."

Ron was speechless after hearing this. In this magical land, in addition to magic, all kinds of chilling things were happening.

"Let's speak Urdu." Khadhan smiled, leaned over and put his arm around Ron.

In India, people often touch each other when talking, using a gentle squeeze to emphasize their points. Ron was used to this way of talking, and he often did it.

"Urdu?" Ron was a little confused.

"Yes, this is also related to what we want to discuss. I will help you get that piece of land, and you do me a favor."

The sex scene began, and Ron took a breath unconsciously.

(End of this chapter)