I'm a Master in India

Luca used to be in the pharmaceutical business, and while he targeted patented drugs, it wasn't too difficult to manage.

It's not that Brazil doesn't have legitimate medicines, it's just that ordinary people can't afford them or can't afford them long-term.

As an alternative, generic drugs accurately captured the needs of ordinary patients.

The amount of medicine Luca shipped back increased each of the three times, and he even began to slowly radiate to neighboring South American countries.

He got a taste of success and started pursuing business with higher profits.

"Just this little box, brother," Luca gestured with his fingers, "Someone is offering two thousand dollars for it!"

This was simply unbelievable. How many doses could be in such a small box? If their ships were loaded with this kind of cargo, they would have more money than they could spend in a lifetime.

"But this medicine hasn't even been released yet. It's still in the lab stage, not even Panter can get it."

"So we have to figure something out. I know you have other connections." Luca wouldn't give up.

"You know what a drug in the clinical trial stage means, right?" Ron looked at him.

"Brother, I understand what you mean. But people with terminal illnesses can't worry about that much. They are more aware of the cost than we are."

The several anti-cancer drugs Luca wanted only had relatively mature processes in Europe and America.

Generic drug companies in India were still in the exploratory stage, which required a large amount of experimental data for verification.

Even if you know the formula for a generic drug, it's not so easy to replicate it perfectly. The necessary experiments still have to be done.

Clearly, Luca couldn't wait.

Someone was waving money for that kind of medicine, and he just needed to get it. It was that simple.

He didn't care about the efficacy of the medicine, whether it would kill people, or whether the law allowed it.

"I'll take you to the slum in a couple of days."

"What are we going there for?" Luca was startled.

"When what you want can't be found in the Mumbai black market, you might as well go to the slum to inquire about it." Ron smiled mysteriously.

The slum was not without its uses. It connected the positive and negative sides of the city, and countless bits of information converged and dispersed here.

After several months, Ron visited Taiji Ali's slum again, with Anand personally leading the way.

"The air here is sweet, and all my pores are open."

He had moved out of here to a better, bigger house, but he still often missed this place.

"Be careful! There's something under your feet!" Luca pointed at a pile of feces and screamed in horror.

"It's okay if you step on it, just wash it off at the beach." Anand deftly avoided it.

"God, I'd rather be in a shootout with some gang than exploring a slum." For the first time, Luca doubted if Ron's bad idea was actually useful.

"What has Taiji been busy with lately?" Ron asked Anand.

"He's busy marrying his third wife."

"What?" Luca was stunned.

Ron was also a little surprised. Taiji Ali was so old, he didn't expect him to still be so vigorous.

"Ali Bai now has three wives, and he can marry one more." Anand shook his head with a laugh.

This was nothing to be surprised about. Old imams, as long as they had the means, all had more than one wife.

Although Taiji Ali lived in the slum, he was the person in charge here. His first wife was two years younger than him, and his second wife was ten years younger than him.

According to Anand, the new third wife was only twenty years old. She was a widow with four children.

Without Taiji Ali's help, it would have been difficult for her to find a new husband, because those were four girls.

His three wives had given birth to ten children for him, and including the stepchildren, there were over fifteen.

To make them financially independent, Taiji Ali bought four sewing machines.

His first wife, Fatima, set up the sewing machines under a canvas awning outside the house and gradually hired one, two, three, and finally a total of four male tailors to make shirts and pants.

This small workshop provided a livelihood for the tailors and their families, and also brought in a small profit, which was equally divided among the three wives.

Taiji Ali did not interfere with the business operations and paid for all household expenses. The money his three wives earned was entirely their own to spend or save as they pleased.

After some time, those tailors bought the slum shacks around Taiji Ali's house. Their wives and children lived next to Taiji's family, forming a large family of thirty to forty people who regarded Taiji as both a father and a friend.

"That's a comfortable and content family, with no quarrels, no anger," Anand introduced proudly. "The children play happily and work hard."

"Oh my god, this is too strange." Luca exclaimed.

"What's strange?" Anand asked.

"So many people living together, how do their husbands and wives at night... I mean, what about the children?"

"The children pretend to be asleep." Anand was experienced.

"You mean pretend to be asleep?" Luca shouted.

"Yes, when I was five, I used to listen to my parents doing that. That's how I was able to have my first child at fifteen."

Luca was stunned. He turned to look at Ron, who shrugged.

This was indeed nothing strange. This was how it was in India.

Children didn't need any sex education at all. They were exposed to it from a young age and were already proficient in it.

"I suddenly realized that Brazil isn't so bad..." Luca muttered to himself.

He didn't understand, but he was greatly shocked.

The three of them weaved through the low-lying slum and finally arrived at Taiji's house when the sun was at its highest.

Taiji Ali was still the same, with short silver hair, thin but strong, and a loud voice.

"I don't understand these medicines, but I know where they might be." He handed the note in his hand to his youngest son behind him.

"How so?" Ron showed a look of interest.

Before coming here, he had inquired at other black markets in Mumbai, but without exception, he hadn't gotten the answer he wanted.

He didn't expect to have a turning point here at Taiji Ali's. Sure enough, his initial hunch was correct.

"In a special slum, Ab will take you there." Taiji Ali suddenly smiled.

His youngest son, Abdullah, was only thirteen. When Ron used to provide free medical services here, he often helped out.

He was very enthusiastic about leading the way for Ron and chattered non-stop along the way.

"You mean, the medicine your father gave me before all came from there?"

"Yes, they are a group of clever people." Ab's eyes were full of admiration.

When Ron provided free medical services in the slum, all the medicines were provided by Taiji Ali and his people, including some scarce injections.

This was very unusual, especially for a slum.

However, because this might involve Taiji Ali's secret business, Ron didn't inquire further.

Now that Luca had hit a dead end, he decided to use this favor.

It seemed they probably wouldn't go back empty-handed.

"So, where exactly is that special slum?" Luca asked.

"The leper slum is far from here, outside the suburbs. We have to take a train." Ab waved ahead, telling them to follow.

"Wait, what did you just say? Leprosy!" Luca's eyes widened.

"Yes! All the medicines in Mumbai can be found there, it's amazing!" Ab lifted his head proudly.

"Oh! My God!" Luca shouted, "Did you hear that? Ron, it's leprosy!"

This was a word that made people's faces change color. There was no need to elaborate on the horrors; everyone knew.

What was strange was that Ab and Anand didn't seem too surprised.

"Ab, are you familiar with that place?" Ron asked.

"Of course, I go two or three times a month. We give them clothes and food, and they give us medicine. We are friends."

There were several institutions in Mumbai that housed leprosy patients, but the settlement Ab mentioned was clearly not among them.

Ab said that the men and women there refused to go to those institutions. Although they provided medical care, concern, and a clean environment, their regulations were strict.

Not all leprosy patients could accept those regulations, so some chose to leave, and some were driven out.

Slum residents accommodated people of all classes, races, and circumstances, showing great tolerance, but this tolerance rarely extended to leprosy patients.

Neither the street committee nor the slum leaders could accept them. Leprosy patients were avoided like the plague.

They had to form their own mobile slum, and when they found an empty space, they would settle there in less than an hour. They could also leave without a trace in even less time.

Sometimes they would stay next to a garbage dump for a few weeks, encroaching on the territory of the long-term scavengers, and the two sides would engage in offensive and defensive battles.

Sometimes, they would settle on soft ground or at the discharge point of industrial wastewater.

They were a group of abandoned people, who could only wander around the outskirts of the city.

Of course, Ron was also very wary of leprosy. It was a contagious disease, and just hearing the name was terrifying.

But he still decided to go and see, because Abdullah said there were also healthy people there, and it was fine as long as there was no intimate contact.

Moreover, in this era, leprosy could already be cured, so it wasn't that scary.

Ordinary people were just scared by its long-standing reputation, unaware that a vaccine had already been developed.

If the situation was too bad, they could always turn back.

"Ab, don't take the train, we'll drive."

"Ron!" Luca looked at him in disbelief, "You're more obsessed with money than I am!"

"Just tell me if you're going or not?" Ron stood by the car, waiting for him.

"Going! That's a two-thousand-dollar-a-box business!" he shouted, getting into the car angrily.

The brand new Ford drove away from Chowpatty Beach. The cool breeze blowing from the bay gradually subsided, then was blocked by streets lined with tall, towering row houses.

They drove through the Parsi settlement, through the diamond market, and into the crowded traffic.

Weaving between motorcycles, buses, trucks, bicycles, ox carts, and pedestrians, it was a dangerous situation.

Ron's driving skills improved by leaps and bounds in Mumbai. About half an hour later, guided by Abdullah, they arrived near the suburb of Kal.

In the distance, on the rusty stones of the railway siding, a dilapidated shelter had been built.

This was their destination.

The group got out of the car and, led by Ab, passed through a gap in the fence and crossed a ditch to enter the railway area.

This rusty high ground was the train assembly area, where most of the city's line trains and many freight trains would stop.

Behind the station were the supporting offices, warehouses, and repair sheds, and further back was the vast shunting area, a large open space with dozens of railway lines converging.

Outside the barbed wire fence was the comfortable, prosperous, and bustling suburb of Kal, where they could see traffic, gardens, balconies, and markets.

The railway area, on the other hand, was a desolate wasteland, with no plants, no animals, and no people.

The leper slum was located here. Ron and Luca exchanged glances and followed Ab forward.