I am a master in India

Chapter 92 Treasure Slums

The travel agency plan was still in the planning stages. Khadhan was still involved in many formalities, including visa and passport processing.

Although the Indian government relaxed investment restrictions in most areas last year, the licensing system still exists in some sensitive industries.

Gangsters like Hard Khan can't get a license, but Ron can.

This was an opportunity for him to use Khad Khan's connections to establish relationships with officials in public institutions.

He is gradually enriching his network of relationships, from the police, customs, airlines, banks to public agencies responsible for people's livelihood.

When your business gets big enough, you have to deal with them and you have to contact them. There is no shortcut.

This is India, a country where everyone, from the people to the government, has a clear understanding of corruption.

While waiting for Khad Khan and Lady Elizabeth to reach an agreement, Ron decided to go see Anand first.

He had been recuperating for two days and was generally fine. Coincidentally, today was Thursday, and Ron was going to the slums anyway, so he went along.

"Good morning, Ron Baba." Anand squeezed his eyes, one big and one small, which were still swollen, and greeted him happily.

"You need to put hot water on your eyes. It will make your ugly face look better." Ron joked with him.

"Yaar, you're right," Anand's wife, Frieda, laughed shrilly. "His nostrils are also different sizes, and he snores so loudly at night, it's like a bull sleeping next to me!"

“Old Sarabhai has a superb remedy for snoring,” Vinod observed, crossing his arms. “She’ll take a very sharp piece of bamboo, about the length of my finger, and stick it up your nose. And then you stop snoring, instantly, forever!”

"This method doesn't sound very friendly." Ron shrugged with a strange expression. He knew without guessing that this was a local method in India.

He didn't know if it worked or not, but it sounded scary enough. In this magical land, incredible things were always happening.

The few of them chatted and laughed and soon came to a small hut that had been prepared for him in advance, and then Ron was shocked by the scene there.

At the door of the hut, there was a long line of people squatting on the ground, at least thirty people in a long line, and the line stretched across the entire alley until the first turning.

"What happened?" This was not Ron's first time coming here for treatment, but usually there were no more than twenty people, never as endless a line as today.

"Fire." Anand's face looked a little sad.

“What happened yesterday,” Vinod added, “luckily the fire was put out in time.”

"But one baby still died. The smoke was so thick that when we found him, his mouth and nostrils were blocked. He couldn't be saved." Frieda's eyes were red.

The biggest fear in the slums is fire. There's no water supply, and the rainy season is over. Once reed mats, coconut ropes, plastic sheets, wooden boards, and bamboo poles are ignited, they can get out of control.

Anand said that the fire was in the downwind area, near the edge of the slum, which was a blessing. But the fire still destroyed dozens of huts, and they only brought the fire under control after they demolished all the huts near the fire zone.

"With so many people injured, why didn't you call the police or send them to the hospital? If there was really no other way, you should have notified me earlier!" Ron couldn't understand at all that they could still talk and laugh with so many injured people.

"It's no use, Ron. This is a slum." Anand smiled a little sadly. "The government has been trying to tear it down. The police won't care. There's no room in the hospital."

“We’ve always been here, yaar. The loss this time is small, see, no one is that sad.” Vinod touched his shoulder.

The patients waiting here all smiled when they saw Ron coming. They greeted him with a smile, just like before.

"Doctor, doctor!" the crowd whispered, with joy of being saved on their faces.

Ron was in mixed emotions, but he forced a smile and greeted them.

Just yesterday he and Khad Khan were sitting in a high-end private club discussing big business, where there were Bollywood stars, political celebrities, Mumbai's most famous blind singer
"Let's go!" Anand pulled Ron's shoulders forward. "By the way, do you want to go skimming first? It's morning now and you just got up."

"What?" Ron was a little confused.

"Skip fishing, that's going to the bathroom. I'll show you how we skip fishing off that long concrete breakwater, into the sea. Every morning, young men and boys skip fishing there. Skip fishing, you know?
"Just squat down with your butt facing the sea. Then take a shower, clean up, and have a happy breakfast. Then you can easily treat your patients and everything will be done." "No, I've already left it aside. Let's see the patients first. The patients are important." Ron stopped him. The idea of ​​​​putting on a pile facing the sea was a bit difficult to do.

They walked along the line to the other end. The crowd was young and old, men and women. Their faces were cut, bruised, and swollen, and their hands were charred, blistered, and bleeding. Some people had their arms in slings, and some had their legs in splints.

It was obvious that some emergency measures had been taken. Ron guessed that it was done by Lahad and Sayem. These two young men had been learning from him for some time.

Every Thursday when he came here, they would help with chores. Ron would also teach them the names of various medicines, the main symptoms they treat, and the dosage, these basic knowledge.

It's not perfect, but it's good enough for the slums. Rahad and Sayem will take his place and practice medicine in the slums.

Entering the consultation room, Ron glanced into the distance and saw that the queue was even longer than he had imagined, extending to the next alley, and even further and further away.

"We're busy, they're all waiting." He sighed.

"It's okay, let them wait, Ron." Anand shook his head, not thinking it was a big deal. "They've been waiting for over an hour. If you weren't here, they would have waited longer, but it would have been in vain. Waiting in vain is more heartbreaking, isn't it? Now these people are not waiting in vain, they are waiting for you. You are the real thing, Ron Soul!"

"Okay, but we have to get busy." Ron put down the first aid kit and began to prepare things without stopping.

The two boys, Rahad and Sayem, had already prepared bandages, needles, tweezers, and syringes for him. They looked at Ron quietly and admiringly.

Not only them, but the children outside as well, their eyes looked like they were seeing a hero from a Bollywood movie.

It is true that Ron had received formal first aid training in his previous life, covering cuts, burns, sprains, fractures, as well as various diagnostic methods and emergency treatment measures.

Later, he learned CPR and saved several people from death in Mumbai. But he was not a doctor after all, at best he was a barefoot doctor in the slums.

But the people here trust him, complete and unconditional trust. In order to repay this trust, Ron devotes himself to the work of saving people.

The patients reported their names one by one, smiling. Ron and his two assistants did their best to treat their wounds one by one. They were busy with this task for the whole morning.

During this time, someone sent us a tin box containing a variety of food, covered to prevent rats from stealing it. Someone also sent us fruit, fresh and without any scratches on the surface.

When the queue of people gradually dispersed, Taiji Ali came over with his men.

Seeing him, Ron thought about what he had discussed with Khad Khan yesterday. Perhaps his future travel agency would require the help of Taj Ali.

There are more than 20,000 people in this slum, and Taji Ali also knows the bosses of several surrounding slums, which have tens of thousands of people in them.

Among these many workers, a large portion of them want to go to the Persian Gulf region to work, just like his eldest son Farouk.

The wages there are very high, several times higher than in India, and most men in the slums are envious.

Now he had this way to send people abroad, and the people in the slums happened to trust him. Look, what a good source of customers, there was no reason for him not to do this business.

"Ron, maybe you can use this." Taj Ali had someone hand over a cloth bag.

Opening the cloth bag, Ron saw a pile of injections and plastic bottles containing morphine hydrochloride injection, penicillin, and antibiotics for staphylococcal and streptococcal infections. They were all new and still had labels on them.

Ron was a little surprised. Many of the medicines in it were very difficult to obtain and could not be bought in pharmacies outside.

"Where did you get these things?" He put the things away. They were very valuable.

"Drug black market, if you are interested, I will have someone take you there later." Taj Ali was very satisfied with Ron's performance.

Drug black market? This seems to be a different place from the drug street I visited last time.

Ron suddenly thought of Luca, who had disappeared for nearly two months. He must be very interested in the black market for drugs.

Slums are a real treasure, providing labor, smuggling, and engaging in the black market—they're good at everything.

(End of this chapter)