I am a master in India

Chapter 27 Meeting
Ron was going to meet Hard Khan. His company had been open for a month, but the amount of rupees on the books was still pitifully small, but there was a large bag of small change in US dollars.

He needed to convert these dollars into rupees to pay his employees and continue to expand the company.

Of course, another important factor is that the exchange rate of the rupee to the US dollar has stabilized and now remains roughly around 31:1.

In just two months, the rupee depreciated by 1%. In March, one dollar was worth 18 rupees, but by May, it had fallen to 31 rupees.

The impact of currency exchange rate fluctuations is profound, and the most immediate impact felt by Mumbai residents is rising prices.

Previously, milk tea at a roadside stall cost 20 paise per cup, but now it has risen to 50 paise, which is even more outrageous than the devaluation of the rupee.

This sense of urgency about shrinking wealth has, in turn, led to the prosperity of the foreign exchange black market.

The poor are craving for more rupees, the rich are selling their rupees, and the whole of Mumbai is bizarre.

"Ron, do you need to call two more people?"

"No, it's too crowded."

Carrying a suitcase, Ron squeezed into Anand's taxi with difficulty.

Today I went to meet Khad Khan, Anand accompanied him, and the taxi was borrowed.

"Saints, if anyone knew there was a bag full of dollars in this car, we might not be able to get off this street."

"Hey, relax. This isn't a Bollywood movie. No one's paying attention to an ordinary taxi."

"But your face is covered in sweat, Ron. Are you scared too? You're as timid as I am, aren't you?"

"Bullshit! What kind of crappy car did you borrow? It doesn't even have air conditioning."

Ron was puzzled. Don't the taxis in Mumbai have air conditioning? It was the same last time.

In late May, with the temperature over 30 degrees Celsius, it would be abnormal not to sweat while squeezed in this small taxi.

Anand's greasy face was even worse than Ron's, but he slapped the steering wheel with great pride.

"This is the pride of India, the Ambassador. Look at its beautiful horn."

As Anand spoke, he kept honking the horn, shaking his head with joy, as if he was dancing.

Ron was no longer surprised by this. The three brothers could live in poverty and not have enough to eat.

But they can never be without music and dancing. They can dance and celebrate anytime and anywhere for a happy thing.

There is a reason why Bollywood movies like to dance at the slightest disagreement. It really has a mass base.

"I'm curious. Mumbai's streets are full of Fiat taxis. Where did you find this antique?"

"You don't understand, Ron. This is a real luxury item. In India, it's reserved for officials and wealthy people."

The sleek Ambassador car is a replica of the classic British Morris Oxford, and even its appearance has remained unchanged for forty or fifty years.

The car was old, but the two men were still driving recklessly on the streets of Mumbai.

They were laughing and honking their horns like any other taxi on the street.

Wild, chaotic and dirty Mumbai has a unique look at this moment.

Only when they stopped at the familiar small building did they stop smiling.

"I'll go up, you wait here."

Ron started to get out of the car with his bag but Anand grabbed his arm.

"Ron, remember what I said before, we only do legitimate business. Although the rupee has become worthless, the number of tourists has also increased. I have a feeling that there will be no off-season for tourism in Mumbai this year."

Ron smiled and said, "Okay, I'll remember that."

Although Anand respected Khad Khan very much, he did not want Ron to be too deeply involved.

Now is good, slaughtering foreign fat sheep, clean and safe. Ron has been to this foreign exchange shop in South Mumbai several times, but he never knew that there was a private meeting room above it.

From the outside, this small building has only three floors, but it has a lot of charm inside.

"Hey, Ron, Khaderbhai is waiting for you." Johnny, who was guarding the door, gave him a warm hug.

"You look a little stronger, which is nice."

“Fitness is my meditation, I never stop.”

Johnny pushed the door open and silently gestured inside. After Ron went in, he quietly closed the door again.

The room was large and not dark as one might imagine. Three exquisite chandeliers hung from the high ceiling.

At one end of the room, near the main door, there was a long conference table with twelve high-backed teak chairs, opposite which was a bookcase, and four tall windows on the wall.

Prak Hade Khan stood at the high window, looking out at the expansive view: the rooftop garden, the balcony where green and yellow saris were drying, the rusty red herringbone roofs.

An expensive speaker embedded in the wall was playing music. Ron listened attentively. It was a love song with religious connotations.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Khad Khan stood by the window with his back still to him.

"If it's convenient." Ron didn't refuse.

He had lost a lot of water on the way here due to sweating. In Mumbai, one always has to drink water.

Khad Khan turned off the music and pressed the round button on the desk. A servant came in and he ordered two cups of Persian tea.

It wasn't until they sat down on the sofa that Ron faced the light and saw his face clearly.

His beard and hair were shaved very short, and he looked more energetic than last time.

"Ron, it's nice to see you again. I heard about you."

"What are you referring to? Khader Bai"

When he heard the name "Khaderbai", the man opposite pursed his lips slightly, and a hint of smile appeared in his cold eyes.

"Your company, I heard them talking about you. There are hundreds of thousands of guides in Mumbai who are doing the same business as you, but they have never thought of opening a company."

“I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but I figured I wouldn’t lose anything even if I failed, so I went for it.”

"I'm starting to like you, Ron." He said it so bluntly that Ron was a little stunned.

The servant knocked on the door, and the two stopped talking. The servant who served the tea held the kettle a meter above the glass and poured the hot tea into the cup without spilling a drop.

Two cups of hot tea were pushed in front of each of them, along with a sugar cube. Ron was a little thirsty, so he picked up the cup directly.

But Khad Khan motioned him to wait, "We are drinking Persian tea, in the true Persian way."

He picked up a sugar cube and bit it tightly between his upper and lower front teeth, then picked up the cup and took a sip through the sugar cube.

Ron did the same thing, and the sugar cube slowly crumbled and melted in his mouth, the taste being sweeter than he liked.

"How about it?"

“It’s novel and very interesting.”

There was something strangely noble and solemn about Hardhan's movements, but his expression was ordinary. It was an aura that Ron had never seen before.

It was not until half of the tea in the glass was gone that they both breathed a sigh of relief.

"How many rupees are you planning to exchange this time?"

"More than 20,000 US dollars." Ron patted the luggage bag at his feet.

There was a hint of surprise in Hadhan's eyes. This young man was more unexpected than he had imagined.

(End of this chapter)