I am a master in India

Chapter 464 Mr.
Satya was in a terrible state at this point; Ron almost didn't recognize him.

His entire head was blown apart, and blackish-red blood was everywhere, like oil.

Several people hurriedly carried him into the hospital, shouting and yelling.

Many onlookers gathered to watch the spectacle, and whispers circulated, with words like "official" and "minister" appearing from time to time.

Ron didn't know how he got to this state, but it was clear that he was beyond saving.

Even if they're still clinging to life, there's no hope. If they're admitted to this hospital, even healthy people will die, let alone someone who's about to die.

He was just very curious about what had happened.

Rewind a week, and Barum was waiting outside the shopping center with his drivers as usual.

He was discreetly observing the glass door, watching as people could come and go freely without the guard's notice.

He imagined himself walking confidently through the mall entrance in a pure white T-shirt, jeans, and black leather shoes, ideally with a blonde, fair-skinned woman by his side.

"You country bumpkin, let me show you something good." A driver came over.

"what?"

Look at this.

The driver, who usually liked to shake his keys, was holding a cell phone and forced Barum to look at his new phone.

"Do you use this to call your wife?"

"You can't call anyone with this, you idiot! This phone can only receive calls, not make them!"

"If you can't call your family, what's the point of having this phone?"

"This phone has a specific purpose: the owner can call me anytime to tell me where to pick him up. No matter where I am, I just need to carry this thing with me."

He took the phone back, carefully wiped it, and put it back in his pocket. Before this day, he had always held a very low position among the drivers because his master's car was a Suzuki Maruti.

Today he finally got his wish and had a moment of triumph. The drivers all eagerly passed his phone around, like a group of monkeys staring curiously at something shiny.

Suddenly, a smell of ammonia wafted through the air; it turned out a driver was urinating not far from us.

The vitiligo-stricken lips watched him from a corner: "Country rat, you seem to have something to say."

Barum shook his head.

At 10 p.m., Barum walked out of the Windsor apartment, turned a corner, and went into the market.

Only one shop in the market was still open, with a large sign hanging outside bearing two lines of large characters written in Hindi:

"Action" is a British liquor store that sells Indian-made spirits.

The shop was like a battleground every night: people buying alcohol were noisy and jostling each other, with everyone stretching out their arms and shouting for drinks.

Amidst the commotion, the waiters behind the counter couldn't hear what the customers wanted at all, resulting in them repeatedly bringing the wrong drinks, which led to even louder noise and more intense shoving.

Barum pushed through the crowd, walked to the counter, slammed his fist on it, and yelled, "Whiskey! The cheapest! Hurry up! Or someone's going to get punched! I swear!"

It took him fifteen minutes to buy the bottle of wine. Barum stuffed it into his trouser leg because he had nowhere else to hide it, and then went back to the basement of his Windsor apartment.

"Barum, you seem to be having a pretty easy time."

"I'm sorry, sir."

“You don’t look well, Barum. Are you sick?” Satya walked over.

"Yes, sir, I have a bit of a headache. I didn't sleep well last night."

"You have the taste of anise in your mouth."

"what?"

"Some people chew fennel to mask the taste of alcohol. Have you been drinking?"

"No, sir, I ate pancakes this morning."

"Really?" He kept sniffing, getting closer and closer to me.

Barum took a deep breath, held it in his stomach for a moment, and then forced it out with a burp, spraying it directly onto his face.

“This is disgusting, Barum.” He looked horrified, stood up, and took two steps back.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Get out!"

Barum emerged covered in a cold sweat.

The next day, Barum drove to the Delhi station to pick up Lamar, who was Atiyah's cousin and a member of the Yadav caste, and a powerful figure in the party.

This trip to Delhi was also to cultivate relationships; they wanted to secure an agricultural support project in Uttar Pradesh.

The Yadav family's core interests lie here, and the two brothers attach great importance to it.

As soon as Lamar stepped out of the station, Barum eagerly handed him a flatbread.

Knowing that Lamar loved this stuff, Barum took the potatoes out of the flatbread beforehand and threw them onto the tracks.

Lamar farts easily after eating potatoes, and he hates farting.

A servant should know his master's stomach and intestines thoroughly, from the mouth to the sphincter muscles.

Lamar held the biscuit, glancing sideways at Barum.

"Kid, I have a few questions for you."

“You said, sir.” He squatted down in front of the car.

“Barum, you’re no longer in the filth.”

"Yes, sir."

"Delhi has its own rules."

"Yes, sir."

“Do you know about the Gandhi and Nehru statues that are everywhere in the city? The police have installed cameras in the eyes of the statues to monitor the cars on the road. They can see everything you do, understand?” “Yes, sir.”

Then he frowned, as if pondering what else he should say, "Don't turn on the air conditioning when you're driving alone."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't play music when you're driving alone."

"Yes, sir."

“You need to report the mileage when you come back from your daily trip so that we know you haven’t been using the car secretly.”

"Yes, sir."

Lamar muttered to himself, seemingly still thinking about how to check the driver.

Barum felt both relieved and angry.

He was glad that Satya was careless and generally didn't pay much attention to such details. Barum, meanwhile, had secretly made a lot of extra money by taking advantage of his servant's position.

If Lamar were here, he would have discovered the trick within two days.

When the time comes, he will still have to go back to that filthy place to herd cattle or fish.

But at the same time, he was furious. After Lamar arrived, at least during his time in Delhi, he lost all his extra income.

That was an income of thousands of rupees, which was thus stifled by the "great master".

But once he leaves, everything will be back to normal, and Barum couldn't help but smile.

"Why are you laughing like a donkey?" Lamar shouted at him from the back row.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Barum almost knelt down to apologize to him.

When they arrived at the Windsor apartment building, Satya was waiting for them there.

As soon as Lamar got out of the car, he patted his pockets with a puzzled look on his face and said, "I lost a rupee."

He snapped his fingers at Barum, "Get down and check the carriages."

Barum lay down and sniffed around the mat like a dog, trying to find the rupee.

But after searching for a long time, he couldn't find it.

"What do you mean? Not here? Do you think you can just steal money anywhere in the city? Give me back my one rupee."

“Forget about Lamar, let’s go get a glass of Scotch whisky,” Satya said dismissively.

"Brother, this is how you spoil your servants. Today they steal a needle, tomorrow they'll steal gold. How can you expect lowly people not to steal?"

Barum really couldn't find it, and he had no idea what the one-rupee coin was all about.

Finally, he took a rupee out of his pocket, threw it on the ground, picked it up, and handed it to Lamar.

"Found it, sir. I'm sorry it took me so long to find it for you."

A childlike smile appeared on Lamar's dark face. He weighed the coin in his hand, smacked his lips, as if he had encountered the happiest thing that day.

“Look, this driver just pulled this rupee out of his pocket. He stole it. Brother, you should consider getting a different driver. This guy is unreliable.”

Barum, who was wiping down the car, was struck dumb. Replace...replace?
The two brothers were speaking English, and they didn't know that Barum could understand a few words, such as "change," "driver," and "local."

They were still saying that Barum didn't hear them, and there was no need for him to hear them anymore.

He crouched down and looked in the rearview mirror: I want to confront you head-on, to meet your eyes like men. But he didn't dare look at me in the rearview mirror. He didn't dare face me.

Barum lowered his head, his hands trembling as he scrubbed the areca nut juice off the tires, again and again.

He could hear himself gritting his teeth: I always thought I was plotting against him, but it turns out he was plotting against me!
Rich people always get ahead of others, don't they?
But this time it definitely won't be like that; for every step he takes, I'll take two.

Barum suppressed his anger and poured the sewage onto the roadside.

A vendor sat on the side of the road outside, next to a large pile of motorcycle helmets wrapped in plastic, which looked like a pile of severed heads.

The Yadav brothers didn't use the car all day; Barum wandered aimlessly through the Old Market in Delhi.

This was the market the servants went to. He crossed the road and arrived at the second movie theater the servants had visited.

There's a row of smelly restaurants and tea stalls, as well as huge frying pans for bread.

People who work at the movie theater and those who clean it come here to eat; it's also a haven for beggars.

Barum bought a cup of tea and a serving of fried potato balls, sat down under a banyan tree, and ate numbly.

“Brother, give me three rupees.” An old woman who looked extremely thin and miserable stretched out her hand in front of him.

“I’m not rich, ma’am, go ask those people over there.”

"brother…"

"Can't you let me have something to eat? Leave me alone!"

She left, and a knife sharpener came along and set up his stall right next to the tree.

He sat down in front of the machine, which was the kind of whetstone that you step on with your foot, holding two knives in each hand.

Sparks began to fly off with a whooshing sound, only a dozen centimeters away from him.

"Dude, do you really have to work here? Can't you see someone eating?"

He stopped, blinked, and placed the blade back on the whirring whetstone, as if he hadn't heard what Barum had said to him at all.

Barum threw the fried potato balls at his feet: "How can you people be so stupid? You deserve to be poor your whole lives!"

The old woman who was begging for money followed him across the street to the movie theater across the street.

She lifted her sari, took a deep breath, and began her old trick: "Sister, give me three rupees, I haven't eaten all day..."

Barum's eyes were filled with mockery, but something seemed to be burning inside him.

(End of this chapter)