I'm a Master in India

"Bleaching" is jargon in the passport business, which uses domestic transit routes to achieve the goal of illegal immigration.

Mumbai has thousands of refugees from the Persian Gulf who want to seek asylum in places like Canada, Australia, and the United States.

But those countries usually refuse to grant them visas, so they can't arrive in the asylum country openly.

This is where another loophole comes in: as long as you set foot on the soil of a Western country, you can claim to be an asylum seeker.

After physically entering illegally, the visa is no longer important.

The local immigration authorities will assess whether these people's asylum applications are legitimate, and if they are genuine political refugees, the application is often approved.

The key is to get them into Canada, Sweden, or other popular asylum countries first, which needs to be achieved through "bleaching."

"Did you remember everything I told you?" Ron asked again.

"I remember clearly, don't get off the plane in Delhi, keep flying to Canada." The Brazilian corrupt official looked nervous.

"Hey, relax, this is my territory." Ron chuckled and patted his shoulder.

Mumbai International Airport had been shut down for a few days during the bombing, but by this time it had long since returned to its former prosperity.

Ron's travel agency reception was open as usual, and they were now sitting in the lounge, waiting for the upcoming flight.

The Brazilian corrupt official kept looking at Ron for a while, then at Luca for a while, his eyes filled with nervousness, unwillingness, anger, fear, and a hint of anticipation for the future.

His fifty thousand dollars were almost gone, all thanks to these two people.

One demanded a hefty price, asking for $300,000 for a passport.

The other, under the guise of investing in the pharmaceutical business, took the remaining hundred thousand dollars in cash.

Fortunately, he had kept a backup plan, having his family take the remaining dollars to Canada in advance.

As long as he could leave this hellhole and go to Canada, he could still enjoy the sweet air of freedom and democracy.

Knock, knock, knock.

Someone was knocking outside, it was Hela.

She was wearing a loose shirt and pants, with sunglasses on her face, looking no different from an ordinary European tourist.

"Are you all ready?" She took off her sunglasses and looked over.

"All set." Ron patted the leather bag in his hand.

"OK, let's do a final confirmation." Hela took out her green boarding pass and shook it.

"Mine is here." The Brazilian corrupt official also took out his red boarding pass.

His destination was Delhi, while Hela's destination was Canada.

"Very good, it's time to go, see you on the plane." Hela smiled confidently and strode away.

"Remember her face, you know what to do on the plane." Ron also took the Brazilian corrupt official to the boarding gate.

Obviously, it was not realistic to directly buy a ticket to Canada for this Brazilian guy.

Because before buying a ticket, you have to show the latest visa issued by Canada.

But they didn't have time to make a fake passport, so this route was not feasible.

Legitimate channels for visas were even less likely, otherwise, the Brazilian corrupt official would not have been reduced to running away.

This is where Hela needed to step in; she used her fake visa to buy a ticket to Canada.

As a well-dressed white person with a European face, Hela was always subjected to cursory checks when clearing customs, and no one ever specifically checked her visa.

Ron, on the other hand, helped the Brazilian corrupt official buy a domestic ticket on the same flight, from Mumbai to Delhi.

Yes, Hela and the Brazilian corrupt official were on the same flight.

It flew both domestic and international routes.

It took off from Mumbai, landed in Delhi in the middle, and then transferred to Canada.

The international boarding pass was green, and the domestic one was red.

Once the plane was in the air, Hela would exchange boarding passes with the Brazilian corrupt official.

At Delhi airport, only those holding the green international boarding pass could stay on the plane.

Hela would get off the plane in Delhi with the red boarding pass, letting the Brazilian corrupt official continue flying to Canada, where he could directly seek asylum upon arrival.

This is the bleaching route, playing a trick of swapping live people.

In Delhi, Hela would stay in a five-star hotel for one night and then fly back the next day.

This trick was very effective, in the less technologically advanced present, it worked every time.

Now the Brazilian corrupt official had successfully passed security and was heading to the boarding gate.

His identity in India could not buy a ticket from any airline, but Ron could.

Singh at the airline, Harry at customs, as long as he gave a call, everything was taken care of.

Look, Ron and Hela working together could even open up a smuggling channel.

However, this line of work was somewhat risky, and neither of them was particularly interested in it.

If it weren't for this big fish, Hela wouldn't have come in person.

Thirty thousand dollars were already in hand, tsk, this kind of shady business makes money fast.

However, part of this money had to be given to Gani, one of Hadkhan's subordinates, after all, that US passport used his resources.

The rest was split equally between Ron and Hela, at least $10,000 each.

Unconsciously, Ron's foreign exchange piggy bank had grown fat.

Raju moved into a new apartment, one bedroom and one living room, not far from Mira Road railway station.

Standing at the window, she could clearly see the crisscrossing overpasses spanning the railway tracks outside.

On the other side was the railway station, and opposite the school hung a giant sign with the words "Enrich College" written on it.

This was a view she had never experienced before; there was no such big sky in the slum, and the women's carriage on the train would not be this quiet.

The apartment was beautiful, all in a Western style.

Two Roman columns stood grandly, and the white facade was dazzling.

Pediment, Chippendale roof, finials - this was an architectural style Raju had never seen before.

She also had her own room for the first time, and when she stood in the empty bedroom, she even felt at a loss.

The room was too big, which made her unable to sleep.

During those nights of insomnia, she even missed the noise of the slum.

She was originally a teacher there, teaching children some basic knowledge.

Raju wanted the children in the slum to at least be qualified to apply for jobs when they grew up, so she rented the second floor of a shack and opened a tutoring class.

If Ashish had time, he would also go to teach the children.

All of this was voluntary work; apart from the classroom rent and the salaries paid to other tutoring teachers, she had no surplus this year.

Unfortunately, conflict occurred later, and Jogeshwari was the source of the riots.

Many people moved out from there, a large number of buildings were destroyed and sealed off, and there were very few children coming to the tutoring class.

Later, at Ashish's earnest request, Raju came to Sur Electronics.

Then, ding dong!

The doorbell rang.

Raju left the balcony and came to the entrance, standing outside the door was Ron.

"How is it here, are you getting used to it?" He was clearly visiting for the first time, but he acted as if he were at home.

He picked up the water glass on the table and drank from it, and the cheese in the refrigerator did not escape his clutches either.

"It's too quiet here." Raju hesitated for a long time, and that was the only sentence she could come up with.

She really wanted to say that the glass was hers and the cheese had been half-eaten, but she gave up in the end.

"You will enjoy this quietness in the future." Ron chuckled.

It is easy to go from frugality to luxury, but difficult to go from luxury to frugality.

This silly girl had only lived a hard life before and had never enjoyed good fortune.

Ron came to the balcony and carefully examined it. Well, the entire community was a clumsy imitation of Western architecture.

Two Roman columns rose from the mud, as abrupt as movie props.

These postmodern buildings were neither here nor there, with low-grade taste.

The plaster powder facade was just waiting for the first rain to wash away the thin paint.

All the buildings would be restored to their original state, revealing the dull, mottled, unchanging yellow soil underneath.

As expected, you couldn't rent a good house in this kind of suburb.

The only advantage was that it was close to the station and not far from Sur Electronics.

If he couldn't make it back sometimes, he could also stay here overnight.

"Raju, is your magic oil ready?" Ron had already started to let his imagination run wild.

"Ah, now?" Raju was a little surprised and stuttered.

"I've been feeling tired lately, can you give me a massage?" Ron pretended to hold his waist.

He had only been to Hela's place these past two days, and now he happened to have a lot of 'inventory', wasn't this a coincidence?

"I'll take a shower first." Raju mumbled a few words, not knowing what excuse to find.

Don't look at her being a big girl already, but she had no experience in this kind of thing.

"Oh, that's perfect.

Let's go together!" Ron followed her in shamelessly.

Raju was a genuine Indian girl, the one Anand had been eager for Ron to try.

Well, I have to say, Indian girls have a few tricks up their sleeves.

For example, they know traditional yoga, and some poses you simply can't grasp.

It was practically like acrobatics, Ron watched with his mouth wide open.

Fortunately, the Indian magic oil was also very authentic, and he stayed here for the entire night.

Ron was very satisfied, he liked novelty.

Five people could take turns perfectly, and he could spend the remaining two days off teasing Little Niya.

When Ron drove back to the Fort area, he happened to run into Anand and Luca.

"Wow, Ron!" Anand shouted exaggeratedly, "We've been looking for you everywhere, every restaurant with striptease dancers, every bar with black market dealers, every dirty slum, every..."

"Alright, what is it?" Ron interrupted his nonsense.

"He's looking for you." Anand pointed to Luca beside him.

"Man, this car is so damn cool! Where did you get it?" Luca was circling the brand new Ford Taurus non-stop at this point.

"Just like our medicine, it came from the sea."

After meeting Harry last time, he quickly acted as a middleman and connected Ron with a car dealer.

This kind of imported goods certainly couldn't clear customs normally, after all, the tax rate was frighteningly high.

After bribing customs, it was easy to handle, Ron only spent an extra twenty thousand dollars to get this Ford car.

"After this deal, I want one too." Luca was very tempted, "Brother, that's why I'm looking for you, have you found a way to get that special medicine we talked about last time?"