I'm a Master in India

Ron and Kavya arranged to meet at the Mondiga Cafe, which had a much nicer environment and was far more spacious than her cramped apartment.

Of course, Ron suspected that Kavya wasn't quite comfortable with him yet. He was an Indian man, the kind who might do anything when alone in a room with a woman.

Allowing Ron upstairs last time had already been a bold move on her part. This time, they had more to discuss and would be spending more time together, so the cafe was a 'safer' option.

There weren't many people in the Mondiga Cafe. A few Arabs sat in the corner, two cautious-looking Asians were near the door, and a leisurely European occupied the best spot by the window.

When the stylish and beautiful Kavya entered, she unconsciously attracted most of the cafe's attention. They rarely saw such a confident and beautiful Indian woman, even though this was the most developed and open commercial city in all of India.

"Hey, Ron," she said, walking over and giving him a natural hug, her face full of smiles.

This was another unexpected gesture, as most Indian women wouldn't do such a thing.

Ron liked her and returned the warm embrace. Her thick, dark brown hair was messy and slightly disheveled, her back was straight, and her eyes were clear.

When she hugged Ron, her fingers would casually and friendly touch his neck, a soft sensation that was incredibly intoxicating.

"What have you been busy with lately? Still writing your report on crime records?" Ron asked.

"Pretty much. What about you?"

"Busy committing crimes."

"Would a bad guy like you do such a thing?" Kavya laughed.

"In India, anything is possible," Ron joked, shrugging his shoulders, and then called the waiter over to order two coffees.

"That's true," she nodded. "In India, bribery doesn't even count as a crime, otherwise I'd never finish my crime report."

"Okay, don't worry about such things. Even Indira Gandhi couldn't do anything about it, so what can you do?"

"It just pains me, Ron. You'll never know how much bribery goes on in secret every day, especially after learning about some of the inside stories. You really worry that the country will collapse one day."

Indira Gandhi was more like a dictator than her father, and even she was helpless against this phenomenon, let alone those who came after her.

Ron understood Kavya's feelings. She had just returned from studying abroad and was determined to become a journalist.

The initial contact with such things is painful, but then it might become numbness, and finally, you might even integrate into it.

Because bribery has become a part of Indian culture, no one can escape it.

"Don't worry, India won't collapse. Although at the beginning of its independence, it was a country composed of countless small rebellious groups.

But something holds them together, perhaps caste, or perhaps culture, affection... or something else. In short, it's not that fragile."

"Oh! Bro, that's a great line, I have to write it down." Kavya took out her notepad and started writing.

"Is this an interview?"

"You're in luck! This reporter's first exclusive interview is for you, yaar."

The two looked at each other and then burst into laughter.

"Seriously, bro, you don't seem like an Indian at all. I've been abroad for a long time, you know, but you're more like the one who just returned home than I am."

"What can I say? I'm gifted? Or maybe I read too much and was better educated by my parents?"

"You know what, you're the first person I've met who doesn't care about caste but comes from a Hindu family, I'm very curious."

"I just respect everyone who works hard to live, and besides, I myself am more or less enjoying the convenience that comes with being from a high caste."

"That's what I like about you, bro." Kavya believed that the reason Ron was liked by Dhiraj, Viraj, Haila, and Mary was because he was respectful and genuine.

"That's very kind of you to say, but let's talk about today's meeting, I've been waiting for your call these past few days."

"You're such an unromantic jerk," Kavya said through gritted teeth with a smile, "It's all here, see for yourself."

She had compiled a lot of information, some were snippets cut from newspapers, some were handwritten notes, and some were even photocopied insider news.

Ron gave her a pleading smile, and then lowered his head to look at these things.

The content was very detailed, tracing back to the background of the establishment of the Sharma Textile Factory. In the early days of India's independence, the manufacturing industry that developed first was the textile factory.

The government solved the problem of feeding hundreds of millions of people, and the problem of clothing was left to the businessmen. Clothing didn't require much technology and had a huge market, so it attracted a large wave of people to invest in the clothing industry.

In just over a decade, not only were there a huge number of garment factories, but also the upstream textile factories began to increase rapidly. By the 1970s and 1980s, there were more than 200 textile factories in Mumbai alone.

Sharma's factory was probably born under that trend. After eating dividends for a few years, his factory developed rapidly, and the workshop was expanded almost every year.

However, the good times didn't last long. With social changes, Mumbai's industrial adjustment, and increasing competition, the textile factories entered a period of weakness after the 1980s.

But the real fatal blow to Mumbai's textile industry was the major strike in '82. The workers were dissatisfied with the meager wages, dirty working environment, and bonuses that could be canceled at any time, so they decided to launch a protest with the union.

They found the famous Samant, who had successfully organized a strike by workers in the automobile industry, which led to a significant increase in wages.

That time, they contacted nearly 250,000 workers from 65 textile factories in Mumbai to launch a strike, hoping to increase bonuses and wages.

However, unlike the automobile industry, Mumbai's textile industry at that time was already a sunset industry, and the high-caste business owners were naturally unwilling to succumb to the demands of the low-caste workers.

Therefore, even though the strike had already caused serious economic losses to the economy and the industry, the factory owners and Samant did not give in to each other.

In the end, the strike did not achieve any results for the workers and ended in failure. Most of the workers fell into poverty, and more than 150,000 workers lost their jobs as a result.

The textile factories were even worse off. In just one year, more than 50 textile factories in Mumbai were permanently closed, and the bosses of the textile factories that hadn't closed down also began to move their factories out of Mumbai.

In the following decade, this situation continued to deteriorate. Sharma Textile Factory, which was among the top companies at the time, finally collapsed this year.

Dragging it out until today, Ron didn't have to guess to know that he owed a lot of money. Indian factories now don't have anything like legal personhood, it's not something you can easily walk away from with a bankruptcy declaration.

The bank will come after you for the debt, and the workers will also block you to demand the wages you owe them. According to Kavya's intelligence, Sharma owes the bank at least 20 million rupees.

There are also several hundred workers with six months of unpaid wages, which is not a small number either. This guy knows he's in big trouble, with the bank in front and the gangsters behind, so now he's simply playing hide-and-seek.

But he's still hiding in Mumbai. He won't leave here until he's completely squeezed the textile factory dry.

To Ron's surprise, according to the information provided by Kavya, Sharma was in South Mumbai, even very close to them.

"Ron, didn't expect it, did you? This guy came to our newspaper. He wants to put an advertisement in the newspaper and then sell the land."

Speaking of this, Kavya couldn't help but laugh. Then, Ron also started laughing.

Bro, by doing this, you're making both of us look stupid.