I'm a Master in India

Ron's electronics factory was located in the suburbs of Mumbai, bordered by markets and residential areas to the east and south. The dilapidated houses were essentially no different from slums, and Ashish's family lived on the east side.

To the west was the sea, and along the coast to the north was the famous Juhu area, where many Bollywood stars lived and worked.

Mary and the others were there, and the studios were also nearby.

Directly north of the electronics factory was a completely undeveloped wasteland, which Ashish said had been abandoned for many years.

Ron planned to apply for a piece of wasteland to the north to house a legal slum.

There was no space to the south and east, and while there was space to the west, it wouldn't work. He knew all too well what would happen if he put the slum upwind.

Wasn't the fresh air blowing in from the sea fragrant enough? If the slum was placed there, he was sure it would smell like feces in the future.

So the north was the most suitable, and there was enough space. After sending a small bribe, Ron obtained a temporary land use permit.

According to the instructions on the receipt, he could temporarily house construction workers in the designated area to the north for a period of three years.

In theory, the government would reclaim the land after three years. But Indian efficiency wouldn't allow that to happen; it wouldn't live up to its reputation if the construction wasn't delayed seven or eight times.

The so-called three-year validity period in India often meant ten or eight years, or even longer.

Roaring bulldozers were already reclaiming the wasteland to the north. Their massive forms moved back and forth several times, and a large, flat piece of land appeared.

Vinod was directing people to dig rows of trenches in the open space to lay water pipes.

This was, of course, illegal; the government didn't allow it. But who cared? Illegal construction was everywhere in Mumbai.

Once the houses were built, they would even run electrical wires to provide power. Everyone was busy, sweating profusely, including the children.

Hey, who wouldn't want to live in a house with water and electricity?

Even though the houses were made of wood, they were still better than the reed mats in the original slum, right?

Ron stopped paying attention after watching for a while. He applied for the land, but he didn't have to build the houses.

Leveling the land, providing water and electricity—all the construction costs were paid by Anand and the others out of their own pockets.

Once most of the houses were built, the perimeter would also be surrounded by wire mesh, and then a road would be left leading to the electronics factory.

Ron had personally measured it; it was less than a ten-minute walk. Not too close, and not too far.

No strange smells would drift over, and it wouldn't affect the workers' commute time.

Tsk, actually, this wasn't bad. There was still space on that land. In the future, the workers could all live here, making overtime more convenient.

Of course, Ron also had his own little plan. He wanted to buy the wasteland to the north later.

A legal slum made of wood was perfect; it would be easy to demolish later.

When he had money in hand, he could build real apartment buildings, the kind made of brick, a little further north.

But for now, this would have to do. He was really out of money; the Soor Electronics Factory had drained his small treasury.

"Boss, the equipment from Europe has arrived," Ashish came running over, tiptoeing with undisguised envy after seeing the construction site in the distance.

"You want to live there too?" Ron asked, amused.

"Is it possible?" Ashish perked up.

"You have to pay for your own house."

"No problem!" he agreed without hesitation.

"Go take a look at the equipment first," Ron waved his hand.

The two injection molding machines had been at sea for a month and finally arrived at the Port of Mumbai at the end of February. In addition to the equipment, two technical after-sales personnel had also flown to Mumbai yesterday.

It had to be said that Leon had done a very good job, even considering this for him.

However, after the two Germans toured Ron's factory, they shook their heads repeatedly.

"The configuration here, from the factory building to the water and electricity supply, doesn't meet the standards at all!"

"Gentlemen, according to Indian standards, they are all fine," Ron said calmly.

"Indian standards?" The German was a little puzzled. "What kind of standards are Indian standards?"

"Indian standards are no standards. As long as the equipment can operate successfully, your mission is complete."

The two Germans looked at each other, then became a little angry. As technical personnel, they had traveled thousands of miles to the other end of the continent, but they didn't feel respected.

"Listen, it's not that I doubt your professionalism," Ron patted both of them on the shoulder. "It's just that India has its own unique circumstances. Maybe in a couple of days, you'll be eager to get things done as soon as possible and leave this damn place."

The Germans were meticulous, but Ron didn't have time to waste with them. He just wanted to produce some plastic shells, not build an aircraft carrier.

Why be so serious? It made him look out of place among the Indians.

He could worry about quality and precision later; starting work was the priority now.

Seeing that Ron was much more polite, the two Germans' attitudes softened slightly. They just didn't understand.

This country was clearly poor and technologically underdeveloped, but it didn't have any desire to learn.

Unlike a certain major Eastern country, when they went there on business for a week, the young people there couldn't wait to treat them like professors. In order to master the technology as soon as possible, many people even taught themselves German.

Looking at India, a cow had dropped a load of dung at the factory gate, a dog was sniffing the newly unloaded equipment, and the workers were just staring at the foreigners, all peaceful.

The two Germans were numb. The only consolation was that Ron spoke German, which could save them a lot of communication problems.

After choosing a slightly more reliable place in the workshop, the Germans began to direct the workers to install the equipment, and Ron was responsible for translating on the side.

A large group of people were busy, and in the evening, Ron specially took them to a nearby restaurant for dinner.

Because Mumbai had a curfew, it was impossible to return to the south. So after arranging for the two Germans to stay in a hotel on the street, Ron simply spent the night in the factory office.

Anand and the others had renovated it, and Ron had even installed an evaporative cooler for himself.

As a result, before dawn, he was clutching his stomach and running towards the beach to relieve himself.

Damn it, he had been poisoned!

He hadn't had time to scout the nearby restaurants in advance. What carelessness!

Ashish got up very early. There were Germans in the factory today, and the boss was also there, so he had to perform well.

Of course, what really made him happy was that the boss had agreed to let him move to the factory as well.

Although the house wasn't built yet, it was still a good thing not to have four people crammed together.

In order not to lose face in front of the Germans, he decided to take a bath at the public toilet outside and change into clean clothes.

Everything in the slum cost money. The government had a clear price: three rupees for a bath and half a rupee for using the public toilet.

But the Nepalese in charge still charged higher fees: five rupees for a bath and one rupee for using the public toilet.

He wasn't afraid that people wouldn't come; in fact, there were too many people coming. The stone road in front of the public toilet was always muddy, and soapy bathwater flowed from people's feet all the way to the road.

Ashish got up early, so it wasn't too crowded here after he finished washing. After taking the dirty clothes home, he went straight to a roadside stall for breakfast.

Buying a pancake cost six and a half rupees, and bananas cost two rupees. He spent less than nine rupees in total. He glanced at the meat-filled pancake but gave up on it. He had to save money to build a house behind the factory.

Ashish had inquired with Anand that it would cost at least two thousand rupees to have a decent wooden house.

This was a full month's salary for him. He had to save, especially since he was the only source of income for his family.

After squeezing into the packed city train, being tightly pressed against every hot and sweaty body for twenty minutes, he jumped off, sweating profusely again.

Walking west along this road, passing a small hotel, and across from it was a pharmacy. Then, crossing a pedestrian bridge, a telephone booth, a roasted mutton stall, and a small button-making workshop... After about ten minutes, he arrived at Soor Electronics Factory.

When Ashish stepped into the factory gate, Ron was directing people to clean up with a gloomy face.

"What happened?" Ashish quietly asked the person next to him.

"Ron Baba has a problem with his stomach. He went to the toilet four times last night and three times this morning. Everyone in the factory is talking about it."

"That's right, Ron Baba is a very good doctor," another person chimed in.

"But he's really suffering! The look of pain on his face when he squatted in the toilet, yaar, it was like giving birth. Then it was very smooth, and it came out with a splattering sound, like water, and it came out very quickly.

Like the big guns firing on Independence Day, Duang! Just like that! This morning, I suggested that he drink some cannabis tea, and then his stool will harden and return to a beautiful color."

Ron's face darkened even more in the distance. Damn it, so many people were watching him relieve himself.

The one who was speaking so enthusiastically was none other than Anand's wife, Freida. The entire factory was full of acquaintances, all helpers from the Taj Ali slum.

Some of them were helping their families build houses in the back, and some were helping Ron here, and they didn't even want money. Could he refuse?

"Ashish!"

"Here!" Ashish shrunk his neck and responded reflexively.

"Go to the hotel in the east and see how those two Germans are doing?"

"Yes!" Ashish ran off.

Alas, Ron had a headache, a very big headache. The two pieces of equipment he bought were still sitting in the workshop, not knowing when they would be put to use.

About half an hour later, Ashish appeared at the factory gate, supporting the two Germans as they swayed.

Oh, Ron quickly greeted them, "Gentlemen, why aren't you resting in the hotel?"

"No more rest," one of them said, although his face looked terrible, he still insisted on walking towards the workshop. "The sooner we get the equipment done, the sooner we can go back."

"Yes! In five days... no, in three days, the equipment will be running!" The other also gritted his teeth and followed.

Ron blinked, stunned.

It seemed that becoming a human sprinkler wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"What are you still standing there for? Go help," Ron waved his hand and led the people into the workshop with great enthusiasm.

Facts proved that foreigners being delicate, the eight-hour work system, taking a lunch break in between, drinking coffee several times... none of that existed! These two Germans clearly looked like they were breaking down, but when they started working, they were like they had been injected with chicken blood, and they even volunteered to stay and work overtime at night.

In three days, exactly three days, the two injection molding machines vibrated with a buzzing sound.

See, when they came to India, they got rid of all their bad habits.