I'm a Master in India

Throughout February, Ron shuttled between South Mumbai and the electronics factory. The two locations were far apart, and the frustrating traffic exacerbated the cost of commuting.

Sometimes, because it was too late and Mumbai was under curfew, he had to crash at Mary and Lena's apartment in Juhu.

Since deciding to establish themselves in the Bollywood business, they had moved from Colaba to Juhu, which was closer to Bollywood.

The water cooler, after two revisions, was naturally sent to them by Ron for product evaluation.

After using it twice, Lena complained that her skin always felt damp and uncomfortable when she woke up the next day.

Ron immediately noted it down: skin moisturizing, beneficial to health.

Could this be considered a flaw? It's clearly an advantage, depending on how you interpret it.

Foreigners are just fussy. They're used to air conditioning and look down on his 'earthy' cooler.

Mary, however, provided a more insightful feedback: the cooling effect decreased when the water in the tank was left for too long or exposed to the sun.

Hmm, we can use running water or a water circulation system to solve the problem.

If the cost increases, we'll put it in the high-end product line. In any case, it's not a big problem.

Ashish would take care of the specific design方案; Ron was only responsible for raising questions.

Because of the water cooler, he hadn't been paying much attention to the tourism business lately. Now, Neha was helping manage everything.

Even the Shiv Sena, which was causing a great stir outside, didn't concern Ron.

He only occasionally heard Kavya and others mention that the Mumbai government now followed the Shiv Sena's lead, and the latter had even taken over the outsourcing of municipal services.

This was an extremely lucrative business. Mumbai's municipal services existed in name only, but a large sum of money was allocated every year. Where this money ultimately went was self-evident.

Of course, the Shiv Sena also had its troubles. The Mumbai High Court was investigating the Shiv Sena's illegal activities during the riots.

However, Ron didn't have much confidence in India's judicial system. Based on its past performance, it would be a miracle if the case could be closed within twenty years.

The affairs of the electronics factory absorbed all his attention until Hadhbai called him.

There was progress with the travel agency, and now he needed to meet with a certain official.

Ron arrived at the Mumbai Administrative Services Bureau as scheduled and met the official named Kamat in the second-floor office.

When he entered, the office was buzzing with an "auction." Kamat and a businessman who had promised to provide him with campaign donations were haggling over the amount.

"You said you'd offer 3.75, that's still 1.25 short."

"No, no, we agreed on three lakhs!" the man said anxiously.

"We agreed on no less than five lakhs!" Kamat didn't budge.

One lakh is one hundred thousand rupees, which is a common way of saying it in India.

They argued as if no one was around, completely ignoring Ron, who had been watching the show from the side for several minutes.

Finally, the man seemed to compromise. He took out a white plastic shopping bag and slammed it on Kamat's Formica desk before walking away without looking back.

Kamat revealed a triumphant smile, then stuffed the shopping bag into a drawer under his desk.

"Hadhbai sent you?" he asked.

"Yes, about the travel agency," Ron handed over his business card.

"Oh! Travel company? A good business," Kamat scrutinized the business card in his hand.

Ron nodded perfunctorily. A good business my ass, he'd almost been living on air for the past two months.

"Let's be direct. Same old rules, five lakhs!" Kamat gestured with his fingers. "From now on, your travel agency can handle any passports and visas, and I'll give you the green light."

"Deal." Ron didn't waste any words and directly placed a paper package on his desk.

"As expected of someone introduced by Hadhbai, you're efficient!" Kamat grinned.

"Then it's settled." Ron was about to leave.

"Wait, are you interested in becoming a municipal councilor?" Kamat's shrewd eyes were full of enticement.

"What?" Ron was puzzled.

"Just forty lakhs, and I guarantee you'll join the city council. It has many benefits. You'll never have to worry about approvals and quotas again. Considering you're a Brahmin, untouchables can never dream of such a good thing."

Ron was stunned. How was this any different from selling official positions?

"Mr. Kamat, which party are you a member of?" Ron kept his wits about him.

"The People's Social Party. We're cooperating with the Bharatiya Janata Party, which includes the Shiv Sena," Kamat introduced boastfully.

The Shiv Sena was the hottest thing in Mumbai's political scene, and everyone wanted to be associated with it because it often meant privileges.

But Ron instantly lost interest. The People's Social Party was just a local Mumbai party with a low profile, which wasn't very useful.

"I need to think about it," Ron smiled politely and left the office.

Four million rupees. He didn't even have that much in his entire net worth. And this was just for an obscure minor party. Politicians are really greedy when it comes to money.

Although the travel agency's business had been officially approved, it wouldn't be that quick to actually open for business.

First, Ron needed to rent an office in the Persian Gulf to receive returning laborers. The office location was best chosen in a popular city, such as Dubai.

Secondly, he also needed to advertise in Mumbai so that potential customers, that is, people who wanted to work abroad, would come to him.

Hadhbai would certainly introduce many people, which was why he wanted Ron to open a travel agency in the first place. However, no one would complain about having too much business. Ron wanted to make full use of the slum resources in his hands.

Taj Ali's eldest son, Farooq, was always surrounded by a large group of young people whenever he returned from working abroad, all of whom wanted to go out themselves.

The fishing villages near the docks were similar, and these two slums, each with tens of thousands of people, were a huge treasure trove for Ron.

He had spoken with Farooq, and many people from the slums went abroad to work illegally, sneaking into Persian Gulf countries.

It made sense, as they had no resources to obtain visas or passports. Farooq complained to him more than once, "We ran our legs off and wore out our mouths, but in the end, it still didn't work."

Anyone who has dealt with Indian bureaucracy is familiar with the meaning of "running your legs off and wearing out your mouth": you have to run from one office to another with your application, thirty or fifty times, and the final result is still uncertain.

This is the efficiency of ordinary people dealing with government agencies; ultimately, they have no money or connections.

Ron used Hadhkhan's connections and spent 500,000 rupees. In just five minutes, he could handle visa applications for thousands of people without the individuals even needing to be present.

This is Mumbai, the city of corruption.

People like Farooq who went abroad to work illegally usually only got the dirtiest and most tiring jobs, such as cleaning toilets, sweeping streets, or unloading warehouses, earning around three thousand rupees a month.

But with a visa, it was different. They could work as taxi drivers in Dubai, earning at least six thousand rupees a month.

This was a huge difference, and if they could get a visa, they would be willing to spend some money.

See, this is the meaning of Ron opening a travel agency.

He had already hinted at this to Taj Ali, waiting for the office in Dubai to be rented before opening for business.

With such a legitimate channel to go abroad, Taj Ali would surely be happy to act as an intermediary, and Ron would have to squeeze out a little commission for him.

Friendship is friendship, business is business; Ron had always been able to balance the relationship between the two.

Originally, he planned to take a trip to Dubai himself, but due to the matter of the electrical appliance factory, he couldn't get away.

Fortunately, Hadhkhan had connections in Dubai, and Ron only needed to send a few employees over to put up a front.

If everything went smoothly, the travel agency's business would be on track around April.

In February and March, Ron's energy was focused on the electrical appliance factory.

"Ron, are you planning to expand the factory's workshop?" Anand trotted over excitedly.

"Not for the time being, there are still several months before the rainy season, and the current space is enough."

Cough, this was of course an excuse. The main reason was that Ron was out of money. He had to save some budget for advertising later; the expansion could wait.

However, the original workshop of the textile factory was indeed too shabby. Not only was the ground uneven, but some of the roofs had large holes.

Now it was all patched up with a layer of tarpaulin, but whether it could withstand the rainy season was another matter.

After all, the evaporative air conditioner was an electrical appliance, and the production environment still needed to be somewhat decent.

"Then, does the warehouse need to be expanded? During the rainy season, the goods might be so numerous that there won't be enough space to store them," Anand asked again.

"What exactly are you up to?" Ron couldn't help but look him up and down. Anand usually rarely cared about these things; if he had that free time, he would have gone to find that fat woman long ago.

"Ron, if the electrical appliance factory needs to be expanded, then we can create a new slum!" Anand said excitedly.

"What do you mean?"

"A legal slum, just like the one at the Twin Towers!"

"Oh!" Ron's eyes widened, "You mean—"

"That's right! You can apply to the city hall for expansion, and then they will allocate a piece of wasteland next to the electrical appliance factory to you. You can expand for as long as you want, five years, ten years... forever!" Anand shouted tremulously.

"So you want to move over?" Ron suddenly understood.

"Why not? This is a legal slum, and there are schools nearby. We no longer have to worry about the city hall people coming to forcibly demolish it."

Ron had never lived in a slum, but Anand knew the difficulties involved. That place had no electricity, let alone water. The daily water for the slums was entirely supplied by outside trucks.

This water was mostly monopolized by gangs, and they had to pay to get water. Even so, women had to queue up to fetch water.

Thirty people in a group, each with two buckets, and the water they fetched had to be used sparingly by the whole family. How often to take a bath and how to defecate were all matters of great importance.

Going to the toilet in the slums was also a difficult task. There were no public toilets there, and men and children could go directly to the beach.

But women had to get up early in the morning and walk barefoot in the wasteland, holding a water cup in their hands, looking for a small open space where they could squat down to relieve themselves.

This was truly humiliating for those women who were menstruating.

But a legal slum was different; it could build its own public toilets and even have water and electricity.

A place where you don't have to worry about being forcibly demolished, and with water and electricity, a residence that belongs entirely to you. For Anand and the others, the temptation was no less than buying a house in Mumbai, and it was free.

Ron couldn't look directly at Anand's ardent and expectant eyes. In the distance, Vinod and the others were not in the mood to work, pricking up their ears.

"I will make another trip to the administrative bureau," he finally relented.

Anand and Vinod and the others cheered and shouted, throwing away the things in their hands and twisting their hips on the open space.

Even without music, they danced very happily.

PS: That's all, really not a drop left.