I am a master in India

Chapter 34 What is a black police?
"Go and get Rajesh."

"What?" Anand's chubby face was a little surprised. "Ron, Indian police generally don't want to get involved in foreigners' affairs."

"Now they are willing." Ron said in a relaxed tone.

"Then I'll try it?" Anand walked towards Rajesh and the others doubtfully.

At the behest of the police chief, the number of patrol officers on duty at Victoria Station has been reduced from one to two or three.

Anand arrived there and explained the general idea, and Rajesh and the others immediately came over excitedly with sticks in hand.

On the other side, the "Harley rider" was still showing off his bargaining experience.

No matter who in the crowd quoted their previous house price, he would solemnly tell them that they had been cheated by the Indians again.

Then he would quote a very low room price, and when he saw someone's surprise, he would proudly describe in detail how he had gotten the room by threatening and intimidating them.

"Ron, Anand said you have trouble here?" Rajesh came over with his men.

"See that over there?" Ron raised his chin towards the distance.

"The guy in the hat? What did he do?"

"I hate that face. He's affecting my business standing there, and most importantly, he's covered in hemp."

"Are you sure?" Rajesh narrowed his eyes.

“Anand can’t smell it wrong.”

"Yes, sir, I'm experienced. I know where there's a whole warehouse of this kind of hemp."

Rajesh shook his head, winked at the two companions beside him, and then the three of them walked over tacitly.

The Harley rider was still talking until the people around him began to show fear and gradually dispersed, and then he realized that something was wrong.

"Hey guys! I'm American, from Texas, what do you want?"

Rajesh ignored the other party's aggressive attitude, walked around, sniffed carefully, and then waved his hand.

"We suspect you are carrying prohibited items. Please follow us back for inspection now."

"Oh my God! This is a misunderstanding. I have an American passport! I need to contact the embassy!"

The Harley rider finally panicked. He knew that he was not clean and started shouting subconsciously.

But it was of no use, so Rajesh and his men took him to an empty pillar in front of a group of foreigners and asked him to turn around and stand against the wall.

Then one of the patrolmen quickly stuffed a packet of powder into his back pocket, with a speed comparable to that of accepting bribes.

This is done to prevent the dosage from being insufficient to meet the standards for arrest, and adding some private goods will make it safe.

There is no need to say much about what happened next. The cowboy's personal belongings were all cleared out, and they became the spoils of Rajesh and his men.

Then this unlucky white man might end up in jail for a few days. If he wants to be released on bail, he will have to spend a lot of money to please the Indian police.

If you are unlucky, half a year may have passed by the time he is deported.

Rajesh and his team are already quite familiar with this process, and Ron is also not surprised by it. The logic of this country cannot be inferred by common sense.

After driving away the annoying flies, Ron walked over at the right time to comfort the frightened international friends.

With his handsome appearance, accent-free English, and professional travel advice, Ron quickly won their trust.

Alas, the burden of US-India friendship fell on him.

Ron finally chose an unused storage room directly opposite the platform as the reception office for the Mumbai Tourism Information Company at Victoria Railway Station.

This is the largest room, covering more than 90 square meters. According to his estimation, it would be no problem to open two or three meeting rooms.

Ron hired a construction company for the renovation, and they are responsible for the design and construction. It is expected to be completed in one month.

The place is ready, and unless there are major changes, it can be done quickly as long as the money is in place.

Anand would be in charge of the supervision. Ron finally found some time to fulfill his promise to Mary and the others.

"Ladies, I'm not trying to pry into your privacy, but it's best not to do this kind of work too often. You know, India isn't as safe as you think." Mary and Lena smiled at each other. "We have to find a way to make money. We can't live without money, and the same goes for India."

"This line of work isn't for you."

"Thank you Ron, but we've found other ways to make money, and this is the last one."

Ron shrugged and didn't ask why they didn't return to their own country.

Any foreigner who comes to Mumbai for a long-term stay must find it inconvenient to go back. There are different stories behind this.

After hailing a taxi, the three of them drove along Rock Canyon Road towards Joel Market.

It was noon and the traffic was non-stop, with many Indian men running on the road pushing lunch carts, making the road even more congested.

These people carry lunch for at least six people on wooden carts and push them through lanes filled with buses, trucks, motorcycles and cars.

Then lunch is delivered on time to offices and shops across Mumbai. This is how lunch is provided for millions of people in the city.

It is a unique food delivery service in India. It is not a takeaway. Instead, one family prepares the meal and hires someone to deliver it to another family member at work.

"Oh my God, this is too dangerous." Mary and the others couldn't help but worry when they saw the thrilling scenes outside the car window.

"They send a payment of a few cents, which is equivalent to about 1.7 rupees."

"A few cents? Ron, are you sure it's not a few dollars?"

"Hey, this is India, not New York."

"I suddenly feel that our business is not so dangerous. At least it is safer than theirs." Mary joked optimistically.

Ron wanted to turn around and say something, but his expression suddenly changed, "Be careful!"

He shouted to alert the taxi driver, who swerved in time to avoid a bullock cart.

The driver was a burly man with dark skin and a short, rough mustache.

Ron's yelling seemed to annoy him. He yelled angrily in Hindi, but his foot kept on the accelerator.

He drove like a criminal on the run, swerving left and right and speeding to outpace slower cars.

"This guy is a lunatic!" Ron wondered if he had just taken drugs.

Mary and Lena in the back row also opened their eyes wide in horror. Nothing in the movies was so exciting.

"Stop!" Ron decided to get out of the car.

The driver became even angrier now. He turned his head as the car sped away, wanting to curse something.

But Mary and the others screamed and pointed forward, but it was too late.

There was a squeal of brakes, one second, two seconds, three seconds, and then bang! There was a roar and a crack.

The taxi hit a car that was about to turn in front of it. Ron and the others leaned forward suddenly, and then two more cars rear-ended them.

Shards of glass and chrome trim clattered onto the road. Ron shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears.

"Mary, Lena, are you okay?"

"No, we're fine."

Fortunately, the driver didn't have time to turn the steering wheel, so they crashed head-on, and Ron's half of the car remained intact.

"Oh my God, Ron, this damn driver won't get a tip!" Mary was very angry.

"Forget the tip!" Suddenly Ron remembered what Anand had told him. "Quick! Get out! Get out! Now!"

"What?" Mary and the others were confused about the situation and had not yet come to their senses.

"If we don't leave now, we will die here!" Ron kicked open the passenger door.

In India, this would have dire consequences.

(End of this chapter)