I am a master in India

Chapter 435 Code

"They want to strike?" Ron asked with a puzzled look.

"Yes, I overheard it at a restaurant; it's a local workers' organization."

"Tsk tsk, looks like I've been too nice to them." Ron raised an eyebrow.

“Mr. Suer, this is not Uttar Pradesh. The ignorant country folk have no idea who you are.”

"No wonder the Reddy family's steel mill prefers to hire outsiders. The locals are too impolite and always trying to cause trouble."

“They want to use the union to check and balance the factories, and then benefit themselves,” Dwaram explained.

He knows the ins and outs of this perfectly. If there's a strike, there will be a second; union members will keep demanding higher wages or improved working conditions.

Do you really think these people represent the proletariat? Nonsense!
Absolutely not in India. It's a caste-based country; what's the point of talking about the proletariat?

The so-called labor union is just a bunch of parasites. If they are allowed to grow too big, many of the factory's production activities will be unable to continue.

“I was originally planning to formalize the factory’s operations and provide benefits such as insurance and medical care. New dormitories were also being planned, but now I’m not in a hurry.”

“I’ll take care of it, Mr. Sue,” Dwaram said, taking full responsibility.

"What are you going to do?"

"With the help of the Marda laborers."

"Huh?" Ron was confused.

"This is a very special place near Kussel."

Dwaram has recently visited many places and has gradually come to realize that the composition of the workers in this industrial park is very complex.

The largest group consists of people from rural areas, the poor, or what can be called migrant workers.

The changes that have taken place in India over the past two decades have undoubtedly been devastating for these poor people.

Despite the increase in the number of millionaires and multi-millionaires, there are also more followers among the middle class.

However, the lives of India's poor have not improved at all, and even if there has been some improvement, it has been negligible.

Economists, officials, the wealthy—everyone knows perfectly well that rural India has been virtually stagnant for decades.

Despite the Indian government's efforts to embellish the data and conceal the number and extent of poverty, the facts that have been revealed are still shocking.

According to publicly available survey reports, 77 million people in India spend less than 20 rupees (45 US cents) per day, accounting for 7.7% of the total population.

The majority of this large group works in what policymakers call "unorganized" or "informal" industries.

This means the work is irregular, the working conditions are extremely harsh, there are no safety guarantees, and no opportunities for upward mobility.

They are farmers who can only wander endlessly between the rural areas where they grew up, or the cities and urban-rural fringe areas where they work.

Migrant workers, child laborers, and contract workers are generally considered to be at the bottom of the social hierarchy among those engaged in "informal" industries.

They face a variety of problems, such as excessively long working hours, social isolation, extremely low wages, and a severe lack of basic infrastructure.

They live in slums and sometimes need to work 24 hours a day; they are also not entitled to poverty cards issued by the government.

They are everywhere: huddled in tents set up on sidewalks and under the Delhi viaduct, sitting in Kolkata markets with their tools, waiting to be hired; gathering around bonfires lit with rags and old newspapers in Imphal, not far from Myanmar and Yunnan; and trying to squeeze onto trains carrying livestock to slaughterhouses at train stations everywhere.

Nevertheless, they are nowhere to be seen because they have no status.

They had no choice but to leave their homes.

Migrant work is often a way for rural families to maintain a minimum standard of living, rather than a way to improve their living standards.

However, beneath the impoverished migrant worker class, there exists another class.

This social class has lost all hope in life; they will never be able to rise again and live like walking corpses.

Therefore, they are also invincible.

In the past, factory owners often hired workers to act as thugs to disrupt strikes.

This group has a collective name: "Marda laborers," taken from the name of a town in West Bengal.

“If you ask these people where they’re from, they’ll tell you it’s ‘Malda.’ But a town as small as Malda couldn’t possibly have that many people,” the restaurant owner said.

These people actually came from Bangladesh, and Marda town is right next to the Bangladeshi border.

They are herders who illegally crossed the border into India. Because they have no rights, they are often willing to work for a little money.

In other words, they have no bottom line and are willing to betray their own social class.

"So you want to send these Marda laborers?" Ron asked.

"Yes and no."

"How to say?"

"Marda laborers are indeed a good partner, but I would like to find more helpers."

Dwaram had intended to say that the Marda laborers would handle everything, because they would use any means necessary.

But considering Ron's reputation, he abandoned this approach.

At the market, Dwaram heard many "glorious deeds" of the Marda laborers, including direct conflicts with the striking groups, which were all commonplace occurrences.

The waiters at the restaurant told Dwaram a story about how a few people at the steel mill tried to form a union in the 80s.

At that time, the factory did not rely entirely on migrant workers; its workforce was roughly equal between migrant workers and local residents, with many of the local workers coming from the Lambada tribe. Two workers from the Lambada tribe took the lead in organizing the workers into a union, winning the support of both migrant and local workers, and they registered the union.

The labor committee, established in accordance with the law, required factory management to recognize the legitimacy of the labor union, and the factory did indeed do so.

When the union demanded higher wages and improved safety conditions, factory management refused, so the union retaliated by striking.

The factory owners sought help from the local police regarding the strike, and one officer said he could help them find a solution.

He visited the village of Lambada and the Malda labor community, and spoke with some of them, possibly threatening them or giving them money.

Soon after, several women from the Marda laborers' group suddenly took the initiative to show goodwill to the people of Lambada village.

Especially those workers who organize strikes, they are either lured or provoked, and then pulled into the room.

Before things could go as planned, the women suddenly ran out of the cabin crying and screaming, acting like complete victims.

They immediately accused the workers who organized the strike of attempting to rape them.

The police officer immediately opened a case and charged all the organizers of the strike with criminal offenses.

Without evidence or confessions, the case was practically airtight.

This terrified the migrant workers at the time, so they had to pay a large sum of money in compensation to the women.

Some strikers who stubbornly resisted were thrown into jail and sentenced to three years in prison.

Everyone quieted down, and the workers had no choice but to return to their posts, no longer daring to entertain any wild thoughts.

The strike ended without resolution, and subsequently all local employees of the factory were laid off.

From then on, the factory only hired migrant workers from other places.

The villagers of Lambada had no choice but to look elsewhere, and the jobs they found paid as little as those of temporary workers.

This case, known as the "Lambada Raid," directly resulted in nearly two decades of peace for the steel plant.

It was highly educational and regarded as a guiding principle by factory owners.

The trick may be old, but it still works.

Dwaram was very confident in the lustful nature of Indian men. They would definitely take the bait; it never failed him.

Let alone genuine Marda working women, even a poster can capture countless Indians, so what is impossible?

Ron even suspected that if you split open the Indian's brain, it might be full of tadpoles.

He certainly disdained such despicable methods. Didn't Mr. Sue have any dignity?

"Tell me your thoughts. If all else fails, I can lay off all the factory workers."

"Disband them all?" Dvalam was stunned.

"If they dare to strike, nothing is impossible. With just one phone call, North India can send millions of workers within a week," Ron said casually.

“Uh, Mr. Sue, there’s no need for that.” Dvalam wiped his sweat.

That's incredibly arrogant, bordering on unreasonable. But brute force can overcome any skill, and this tactic of cutting off the enemy's supply line is indeed effective.

"I am prepared to unite the majority and crack down on the very minority."

"Hmm?" Ron blinked.

We must distinguish who our enemies are and who our friends are.

"Holy crap!" Ron instinctively looked east, where the sun was shining brightly.

"We must grasp both the principal and secondary contradictions. We must learn to follow the mass line and plunge the enemy into the vast ocean of people's war!"

"Stop!" Ron raised his hand to interrupt him. "Who taught you that?"

“An old man, he has many books.” Dvalam nodded.

Your thinking is dangerous; India won't allow such a powerful figure to exist.

"Mr. Sue?"

“Oh,” Ron said, snapping out of his reverie, “Don’t let anyone know you’ve read these books, or you’ll be in trouble.”

“I know,” Dvalam nodded.

He was experienced in escaping, so he was aware of this.

"Now tell me your plan: how to unite the majority and how to crack down on the minority?"

"Those who want to organize a union are a very small minority. Most workers don't actually want to make a fuss because, usually, factory owners win in their struggles against migrant workers who try to form unions."

Most importantly, Mr. Sue is more conscientious than the previous factory owners; no worker with a conscience would think of causing you trouble. However, if those scoundrels succeed and gain better treatment through a strike, then things could get complicated.

"Therefore, this door cannot be opened."

"Yes, absolutely not, you've done enough. They're all insatiable bastards, they'll never be satisfied."

"and then?"

“Find those few hidden ones, and then drive them out through powerful figures in the working class. I need to rely on the security department and middlemen.”

“Go ahead,” Ron nodded.

(End of this chapter)