I'm a Master in India

The meeting point Ron had agreed upon with his family was an intersection. When he and Nia arrived, a dusty Toyota Civic was already parked beside the potholed road.

About five or six men were gathered there, chatting idly. They were chewing paan and fiddling with machetes, kukris, pistols...

What Ron couldn't stand the most was the young man leading them, who was holding a submachine gun pointed at the sky, mimicking the sound of gunfire with a "da da da."

He turned and saw Ron, his face lighting up with genuine surprise. Tossing the submachine gun aside, the young man strode over.

"Ron! My dear younger brother!" His enthusiastic embrace was hard to refuse.

"Brother Ratan." Ron put down his luggage and patted his shoulder.

This young man was Ron's cousin, the eldest son of his uncle. They were close in age and had played together since childhood.

"You've only been gone for over two years, but it's like you've become a completely different person," Ratan exclaimed, sizing him up.

"You're not bad either," Ron said, looking behind him, "Where did you get that thing?"

Ratan laughed. He grabbed the submachine gun, tossed it into Ron's arms, and said, "Try it. This is new stock, thirty-five thousand rupees each."

The gun felt heavy in his hands, and Ron instinctively caught it with both hands. He lifted the barrel and glanced at it; the magazine was empty.

After fiddling with it for a few moments, Ron tossed it back to Ratan.

"Is Varanasi not safe either? I haven't seen any news about it."

"Just in case. Who knows what those herders might do. This is also for the family business."

Hearing him say that, Ron suddenly remembered. The fuse of the Indian-Muslim conflict last year happened in Uttar Pradesh, and this was the center of the vortex.

Poor mountains and bad waters produce unruly people; the local customs in Uttar Pradesh are much more aggressive than in Mumbai.

Of course, Ratan's ostentatious display, besides for self-defense, was also to show off to Ron.

He had spent a fortune to get these weapons.

While the two brothers were greeting each other, Nia on the other side was excitedly telling her older brother, Anil, about all the new and interesting things in Mumbai.

Nia had three older brothers and two older sisters. Her sisters were already married, and her brothers all worked for the Sur family.

When Ron's parents were alive, their entire large family were the exclusive servants of this branch of the family.

Later, when they went to Mumbai, only old Abhi and Nia followed them, while the others were temporarily assigned to Ratan's family.

Now, Nia's brothers were working as assistants for Ratan, sometimes also acting as muscle.

Today, hearing that Ron and the others were returning, her third brother, Anil, went to great lengths to get this plum assignment.

He doted on his younger sister and kept asking about her well-being as soon as they met.

Ron was also very familiar with Nia's brothers, having met them frequently when they were children.

After a brief greeting, the group prepared to head back home.

To make room for Ron, Ratan waved the others to the motorcycles behind them.

There were only four people in the car, but seven burly men were squeezed onto the motorcycles.

With a rumble of the engine, the dusty Civic, followed by the motorcycles performing stunts, roared away.

Varanasi was much more backward than Mumbai; its suburbs were no different from the countryside.

The main road was a dirt path. There weren't many cars on it, but you couldn't drive fast at all.

Ron's car would often encounter slow-moving single-wheeled carts, bicycles, and even camel and ox-drawn carts coming from the opposite direction.

Their owners had no idea that they were violating all traffic laws and road sense, and continued to drive their vehicles leisurely and happily.

Ron and the others also often saw twenty or thirty people packed tightly in the back of a tractor, stuck together as if by glue.

The tractor would slowly move forward at a speed of 20 yards per hour, making a rattling sound all the way.

Sometimes their car would also have to stop because of a flock of sheep in front of them.

Ratan honked the horn frantically, but the only response he got was a chorus of bleating.

He was so angry he picked up the submachine gun and was about to fire a burst, but luckily Ron talked him out of it.

They're just animals, why argue with them?

The ten-kilometer journey was bumpy all the way. Even without the interference of various livestock, it was tough enough.

There were large potholes on the dirt road, one after another, and they felt like they were on a roller coaster.

On both sides of the road were the green fields of the Ganges plain, the landscape monotonous. Villages followed one after another, endless. Whether seen from afar or nearby, there were people everywhere.

Just as they were about to reach their destination, Ron was once again speechless, shocked by the scene before him.

Under a large tree at the entrance of the village, five bodies were hanging.

Their necks were twisted at a bizarre angle, and their thin hands and feet were tied together, dangling in the wind like rags.

Under the tree, several dark-skinned women were wailing. They were probably their family members.

"What happened?" Ron asked blankly.

"These untouchables killed a cow and we caught them red-handed," Ratan said with hatred, spitting fiercely out the window.

"No, master! The cow died of illness, my husband didn't kill it, how could we dare to do such a thing!"

One of the women wailed, crying and shouting on the ground, her head always pressed into the dirt.

Several women beside her were also crying, crying softly and weakly, they dared not look here.

Ratan ignored them, and even took out the submachine gun and gestured with it maliciously. The area under the tree immediately fell silent.

Ron didn't say a word throughout the entire process, his chest felt a little heavy.

This place and Mumbai felt like two different worlds, one representing the ancient age, the other representing modern civilization.

He suddenly understood why the slums were so dirty, yet a large number of outsiders still poured in every day.

Because in the countryside, there was not only no way out, but losing one's life was just a matter of a moment.

Mumbai was indeed a golden-winged bird, a paradise in the hearts of all Indians.

After passing the village entrance, Anil quietly revealed.

Those five people were from the Chamar sub-caste, and leatherworking was one of their hereditary professions. This group is collectively referred to as Scheduled Tribes by the outside world and is the lowest caste among the Dalits.

They bought a sick cow from a neighboring village and were caught while carrying the cow's carcass on the road.

Someone claimed that they killed the cow first in order to skin it.

The Dalits argued that the cow had died first, and then they bought it.

But none of the upper castes nearby listened to their explanation and directly used lynching to hang the people under the tree.

There were no police or judges involved throughout the process, and the villagers had no objection to this.

This was the countryside of Uttar Pradesh, a living hell.

Ron still couldn't change anything. He was even one of the beneficiaries.

The Sur family were the lords, or landlords, of several nearby villages. Most of the land was rented out to other castes in the village, and they didn't directly manage much themselves.

The walls of most houses in the village were made of mud, and the roofs were made of straw, just like the homes in other villages in Uttar Pradesh.

Anil pointed to a mud hut, and Ron suddenly remembered that was where Nia's former home was.

Six water buffaloes were kept in the narrow yard. The cow dung was collected separately and would be used as a disinfectant during childbirth.

Jumbled memories flooded in, and Ron gradually got an impression of everything before him.

He had actually rarely come here before. As landlords, Ron's family didn't live here.

They had their own manor, their own temple, their own well, and their own pond. Besides collecting money, they didn't need to come to the village.

Nia didn't live here when she was young either. She grew up with Ron and learned a lot of knowledge from the masters, including English, arithmetic, and skills for serving people.

But after all, her family was there, and Nia missed her relatives very much.

Patting her hand, Ron gave Nia a comforting look.

The car drove through the village and arrived at a small market.

There were only two or three small shops in the market. The storefronts looked similar, and they sold the same things: diesel, incense, and rice.

Everyone stared at them, and several children excitedly ran after the car.

These villages and markets were also the territory of the Sur family.

Those who recognized them quickly bowed their heads and touched the road surface where the tires had passed.

Most of the people here were from the Vaishya and Shudra castes, there were no Dalits.

Untouchables were not allowed to appear here. They had a separate gathering place, which Ron had never been to.

After passing the market, they saw a large walled compound. It was very large, even bigger than the village they had just passed.

That was where the Sur family was located. Just from the outside, several magnificent courtyards were noticeable.

The gardens were lush, and all the facades were made of uniform marble.

Before the car had even come to a complete stop at the main gate, the old butler opened the car door for Ron and then touched his feet.

"Young master, you've come, you've finally come!"

The old butler had watched the young masters and mistresses of the manor grow up. Ron was the youngest, but he was the first to leave this place.

He was very excited, almost throwing himself at Ron's feet.

"Kishan, you haven't changed at all," Ron said, touching his shoulder, completing the blessing.

"Young master, you've changed, you've become more imposing," the old butler actually started to sob.

He waved his hand, and a large group of servants behind him came over one by one to perform the foot-touching ritual for Ron, and then went to the back of the car to move the luggage.

They kept their heads down, their backs bent, and with a fawning look, carefully avoided Ron.

Ratan threw the car keys to the driver, who caught them like a treasure and then drove the car away to be cleaned.

"Ron, let's go in, Dad and the others are waiting for you."

The manor was very large, it took several minutes just to walk.

Only Ron's uncle Prakash's family was temporarily living here.

He had three uncles, and Ron's father was the fourth son.

In the past, the brothers all lived in the manor, but later they gradually separated.

His uncle and aunt were waiting for him in the living room. As soon as Ron entered, they hugged him and asked about his well-being.

They blamed Ron for not informing them about the situation in Mumbai earlier and only calling home when he was about to return.

Ron used the excuse that it was difficult to make a long-distance call from Mumbai back to Uttar Pradesh, requiring booking many days in advance.

He paid extra for the premium "Lightning" connection service, which only required waiting a week to get through.

Well, this was India, even lightning had to wait a long time to strike.

His uncle's family was not surprised; this was normal in Uttar Pradesh.

After a noisy reunion, the first thing was to arrange for Ron's parents' ashes.

After a long prayer, the ashes were temporarily placed under the shrine in the temple.

In a few days, on an auspicious day, they would also go to the Ganges.

Old Abhi's ashes were also stored, which was considered preferential treatment for a loyal servant of the Sur family for decades.

Nia's caste was not low; Vaishyas were considered middle-class, with a much higher status than Dalits, second only to Kshatriyas.

Brahmins could do whatever they wanted to Shudras and Dalits, even using lynching, but they could not treat Vaishyas this way, as the latter were legitimate ordinary citizens.

After a busy time, Uncle Prakash asked about Ron's work again.

He said that arrangements had already been made at the public sector in Varanasi city.

Ron could enter as a civil servant without any examination.

This was a privilege of the Brahmins in Uttar Pradesh; a large number of government positions were controlled by them.

Ron politely declined, saying that he had opened a small factory in Mumbai.

Ratan and the others thought that the small factory Ron mentioned was like the small sugar refineries in Uttar Pradesh, which were everywhere.

Uncle Prakash admired Ron's entrepreneurial spirit. He said that the civil servant position was always available and that Ron should try his best.

If it didn't work out, he could come back to Uttar Pradesh; he was still young.

During the casual chat, Ron took the opportunity to look around the living room.

He seemed to feel the cool air from the air conditioner. Ratan proudly told him that the air conditioner had just been installed.

In two days, a new television would also arrive, all imported goods.

The Sur family had a manor, electricity, and money, but it was difficult to buy home appliances like air conditioners and televisions.

Ratan had to pull strings and wait in line, it took several months to get these appliances.

India was very backward, and Uttar Pradesh was even more backward. All home appliances relied on overseas imports.

After the import tariffs on electronic products were lowered, it took two years of brewing before it gradually radiated to Uttar Pradesh.

"This is all thanks to the family's new business. Let's go, I'll show you," Ratan said excitedly, pulling Ron out the door.