I am a master in India

Chapter 96 The Big One is Coming
As January arrived and the new year began, the streets of Mumbai were far from the bustling New Year's Day holiday. Instead, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense. The protesters were like waves: with each wave cresting, another surged in behind.

Street vendors no longer frequent the streets, and some owners of the Mumin stalls have simply closed their businesses.

As experienced people, they knew that Mumbai was a powder keg at that time, and any trivial conflict between the two sects could lead to a riot.

The tension in the air made foreigners afraid to take to the streets. Ron's business had clearly hit a low point, even worse than during the rainy season.

Of the nearly 200 people in the large group, half have now dispersed. Some may have joined the protesters, while others may have hidden at home.

Ron didn't care, but he also cared. It was best not to get involved in this mess, otherwise there would be endless trouble.

The Grant area slum, where Anand and his family live, even has its entrances and exits blocked with wooden boards.

The people under Tej Ali's rule included both Hindus and Muslims. In the past, everyone helped each other, but if there was a riot outside, no one could guarantee what would happen.

He did not want to bring the once peaceful neighbors to war, so sealing off the entire slum was the safest option. Except for a few people like Anand and Vinod, most residents stopped going out.

This sudden confrontation disrupted all of Ron's plans. Not only did his business go to waste, but even his newly purchased land had to be left idle.

He originally planned to have someone clean up the place and then recruit a few people to work on the cheap electrical appliances, but now he can't find anyone at all.

Ron, who had nothing to do, could only go to Leopold's Bar to inquire about some information. By the way, Di told them that they also wanted to ask him for help with something.

"Mumbai is getting worse." Dirang sighed with sympathy.

"You're absolutely right!" Viraj slammed his glass down. "Those bastards on the street are just taking advantage of the situation to cause trouble!"

"I'm not talking about the people protesting outside, it's the whole of Mumbai that's getting worse."

"Oh, man, what do you have to say?" Viraj said sarcastically. He was in a bad mood recently and his equestrian performance business was affected.

“When I first came to Mumbai a few years ago, I would open my apartment window and see parrots flying around outside, but now I see a rain of plastic bags.

If you dare not close the windows when you go out, when you come back the floor will be covered with black dust and all kinds of garbage that will shock you.

Ice cream cone shells with syrup and cream residue, milk packaging bags, plastic pot lids stained with betel nut juice, and even used and discarded baby diapers."

Dijang's face was filled with pain as he counted on his fingers the garbage he had seen. His fingers were very white, with long nails, and the dirt and grime hidden under his fingertips was obvious and black.

"Speaking of which," he looked at Ron, "you need to find me someone quickly. My apartment is becoming a cesspool."

"What?" Ron turned his gaze away from the street outside.

"A plumber, I need a real plumber! The guy I hired originally had a mouth full of rotten teeth covered in betel nut juice. He was the worst and meanest person I have ever met in my life. I wanted to strangle him to death."

Dijang was gritting his teeth in hatred; he had had enough of that guy. The plumber's hobby was to sow discord among the residents. He told Dijang's neighbors upstairs and downstairs that Dijang should pay to fix all the plumbing problems, big and small, and then told Dijang: You have to try to convince your neighbors to pay for it.

He fanned the flames, eagerly anticipating a fight between Dirang and the neighbors upstairs and downstairs. And his own responsibilities—the water heater, faucets, flush toilets, sewers—none of them worked. The ceiling was leaking, dripping with brown liquid.

Di Rang complained to the building's management, but the owners' committee said all the plumbing in the building was substandard. They also weren't responsible for outsourced plumbers, and the sewage pipe connection was sealed in the wall.

As a result, residents privately dismantled the pipes and arbitrarily changed their direction, resulting in the pipes not being straight and unable to drain water normally.

The more the drainage system fails to function properly, the more frequent repairs are made, with unauthorized modifications and dismantling done as they please. As a result, the repairs become increasingly outrageous, with some even connecting the sewage pipe and the water pipe together.

"Can you imagine? When I brush my teeth in the morning, there's a brown, smelly, suspicious liquid waiting in the cup under the tap!"

“Oh my God!” Viraj put down his yellow beer. “You shouldn’t talk about this now, or at least wait until I finish this drink.”

"I'm worried you'll vomit it out." Dijan shrugged, then turned to Ron, "Well? I know you have a lot of capable people under you. There's nothing you can't handle in Mumbai."

Because of the recent protests, Dirang couldn't even find a qualified plumber. No one knew where they had all gone, so they might be among the rioters outside.

"It's fine to deal with it temporarily, but getting to the root of the problem is as difficult as getting Hindus and Muslims to make peace."

Ron could mobilize manpower from the slums anytime and anywhere. The people living there had a wide variety of occupations, with the most common being cleaners, toilet repairmen, plumbers, and other people who dealt with dirt, which were occupations exclusive to Dalits.

Having said that, tracing the route of the sewer from the top floor to the first floor would be like walking along a winding mountain road with countless branches.

If a Mumbai apartment building were a person, it would be terminally ill, suffering from severe blood clots, arteriosclerosis, and annoying psoriasis.

"As long as I can handle it, I'm planning to move to a new apartment soon. By the way, Ron, your place is nice, how's the rent there?"

"Twelve thousand rupees a month, and the toilet has never been clogged."

"Okay, just pretend I didn't ask." Di Rang felt that he was inflated. He actually asked about Ron's rent. What level was it?
"Isn't anyone discussing what's going to happen in Mumbai?" Kavya, who had been whispering to Hela, couldn't help but interrupt. "Is there even any need to discuss this? This city won't be at peace for months!" Viraj said firmly.

“I think so too, they are bound to fight sooner or later. Everyone is full of anger and they need to vent it,” Kavya agreed.

"That's too bad," Dirang said with a sad face.

Yeah, that's terrible. Ron is also a little worried, his business will suffer a major loss.

Suddenly, the noise outside attracted everyone's attention. The people in the bar couldn't help but run out to watch the fun, and Ron and the others followed out.

On the street outside Leopold's, two streams of people slowly merged at the intersection. People were packed into trucks, some dressed as Hindu gods, others as holy men.

Three men stood at the front of the car, looking very imposing. Around them were crowds of people, young and old, more than fifty in number. The man leading the way wore a red, white and blue Union Jack hat.

"It's Rafiq from the Shiva Army, the bastard who closed the Mumbai tobacco den!" Di Rang recognized the sturdy figure at a glance.

"It should be called the Shiv Sena now," Ron added.

"Shiv Sena?" Viraj looked at the figure eager to try.

"Yaar, they have got money recently and even have their own newspaper called "The Confrontation." As a reporter, Kavya is more informed.

Traffic and people slowly passed by the Leopold Bar. In front of them was a Qingzheng Temple, and at the end of the road was the police station.

As they approached Qingzheng Temple, the procession almost stopped completely. The drummers beat their drums frantically, and the crowd, many of whom were already drunk before arriving, danced wildly.

There was a small group of women at the end of the procession, one of whom waved a large orange Shiv Sena flag. The men were unfussy about their partners, swaying their hips and making all sorts of unsightly gestures.

Some children followed suit, stirring to the beat of the drums. Clouds of colored powder scattered among the dancers. Then, firecrackers exploded—boom! crackle! The fireworks ignited, illuminating the entire Qingzheng Temple in crimson.

The air was thick with the smell of sulfur, the stench of open sewage pipes, and the smell of sweat from the crowds.

Rafiq defiantly waved a flag towards the Qingzheng Temple, "Long live the great King Shivaji!"

Shivaji is the name of the founding monarch of the Maratha empire, and is also the origin of the name of the Shiva Army.

The crowd followed suit, waving orange flags like crazy, drawing arcs in the air along the tall flagpoles.

"Long live Hinduism! Long live Shivaji!" This is the slogan of the Shiv Sena.

Some people were watching silently on the side, some of them holding stones in their hands, ready to throw them at the crowd at any time.

The people in the team were not willing to be outdone. Some of them weighed pork and aimed at the white hat on the side of the road, ready to throw it out.

The atmosphere was tense, with drum beats, fireworks, and the bells of the Qingzheng Temple minaret exploding one after another.

Just as a conflict was about to break out, a sharp whistle suddenly blew, and a dozen turbaned patrolmen came running from the police station at the end of the street.

They were Sikhs who had been ordered to stop the conflict. The Hindu colleagues had been left behind by the director, and replacing them would only make things worse.

Ron knew the leader, Deputy Director Amor. They had a close relationship due to business.

Amor commanded his men to create a human wall between the Mumin and the parade, and at the same time blew the whistle to order Rafiq's troops to move away.

Rafiq didn't resist; he knew when to quit. The procession left the gates of Qingzheng Temple and gradually disappeared. For them, this was already a victory.

"Ron, hide quickly! Something bad happened in Jogeshwari District, Mumbai is in trouble!" Amol hurriedly warned, turned around and commanded the team with sweat on his forehead.

"What?" Ron asked subconsciously.

"Don't go out! Don't open the door no matter who knocks!" Amor led the way and headed north.

Boom! In the direction the patrolmen were heading, a flash of fire appeared in the sky.

"Shit! Guys, go home now! Quick! Lock the door and don't let anyone in!"

Ron cursed loudly, turned around and told his friends to run away quickly.

His intuition told him that this time the big one was really coming.

(End of this chapter)