I am a master in India

Chapter 63 Covering the Door
In the restaurant, Ron, Mary and Lena had plates of food piled high in front of them, and they were facing the sea with their long legs dangling.

"Mina's fine," Lena said between swallows, stuffing her food into her mouth. "She can be sarcastic and ambitious, but she's loyal and straightforward. She won't ambush you."

"Yes, we think that finding actors is a promising idea, and maybe you can get something from it too?" Mary nodded in agreement.

"I'm very interested." Ron's eyes met with each of them once. "Thank you. Do you want to partner with me on this?"

"Okay," the two agreed quickly, "We were hoping for that."

"Then let's divide the work," Ron suggested. "Leave it to me to find foreigners to star in the movie. But to be honest, I don't have the energy for the rest.

If possible, please help take care of that part. This includes coordinating transportation, taking care of them on set, paying them, etc.”

Mary and Lena smiled, comforting smiles, the kind of smiles that Ron wanted to protect.

"We'd love to," Mary said emotionally. "It's impossible for foreigners to play leading roles in Bollywood, and we don't want to be in the background all the time. We really need to do something, and I think we're ready now."

"Mina asked us if we wanted to take on the job of finding actors, and we wanted to agree right away. But we were the only ones who couldn't do it. Ron, thank you." Lena wasn't as clever and weird as usual, her expression was sincere.

"You're welcome. You did a great job, and I even benefited from it." Ron was very happy with such cooperation. For him, there were only benefits and no disadvantages.

His company comes into contact with all kinds of foreigners every day, and now he can use this resource to make more money. Why not?
Mary and Lena were also very happy. Although their relationship had long since gone beyond friendship, Ron respected them and had no intention of interfering in their lives.

He supported them, and did so with full respect and with sufficient self-respect. He was actually very gentle, and Mary and Lena liked him.

"Are you ready now?" Ron asked, having almost finished the food on the table.

The two nodded, "Let's go to the set."

The three of them walked along the black wires stretched out from the generator truck outside the hotel, passed through the side door, walked past a row of busy assistants, and came to the ballroom that served as the filming set.

The room was packed with people, strong lights, harsh reflectors, cameras and equipment taking up a large part of the space.

Not long after they entered, someone shouted, "Quiet!", and then a lively musical began.

The British students who followed Ron were dancing on the dance floor, very excited and enjoying the view.

Many people don't like watching Indian movies, as Ron had heard from foreign tourists he met.

They could not stand the complicated and ever-changing noise of the musical, and could not stand the sudden burst of song and dance when a mother was crying, lovers were sighing, or villains were fighting.

This doesn't make sense logically, and is even quite foolish. But behind any popular thing, there is a mass base supporting it.

Indians undoubtedly love to dance. They dance when they are happy, during religious activities, and even for rain.

Children in the slums dance to beg, and continue dancing to express their gratitude when they receive alms. Dance is always active in the cells of Indians.

Ron couldn't say he liked it, nor did he hate it. He watched it all with great interest.

The producer rented two high-powered speakers and cranked up the music to a blast. The intense sound waves blasted through the entire dance hall, rattling their bones.

The colors on the set seemed to come from a tropical ocean, with countless lights shining directly onto the lake, making one dizzy.

Each face flickered in the light, like a statue in a temple. The Indian dancers on the dance floor were passionate and intense, performing extremely provocative acts. Yet, they would occasionally offer a graceful gesture or a flirtatious glance, each one delicate and elegant.

These songs and dances were surprisingly not boring, with a tight rhythm and full of drama. Ron and Mary watched the dance drama being choreographed, revised, and recorded for a full hour.

During the break, Meena introduced Ron to Joseph and Chandra, two of the four producers of the film. Since it was their first meeting, they didn't talk much, but overall they got along very well.

After exchanging business cards, everyone becomes friends, and the fragile network of relationships is initially established.

The British students' scenes were complete, and Ron asked Mary and Lena if they wanted a ride back to the city.

But they said they had already made an appointment with Mina to have dinner together in the evening and to strengthen their relationship.

Ron kissed them goodbye and prepared to go back with his students. In one afternoon, he not only connected with Bollywood, but also earned 50,000 to 60,000 rupees. This kind of business was fascinating.

As he walked out of the hallway, he suddenly saw a familiar figure, Kavya.

The two haven't met since their last phone call. They have both been very busy lately.

Ron was busy with the tour group, and Kaavia was busy writing a report on criminal activities.

"Hey, Kavya!" Ron called her from behind. "Look, the top reporter from Bombay's largest newspaper, hello! Oh. You. Look very good."

She wore an ivory silk trouser suit and carried an ivory linen handbag. Her single-breasted coat opened into a deep V-neck, revealing a breathtaking view.

"Don't mention it!" Kavya's voice was sharp, a sheepish smile on her face. "I wore this to charm men. I had to interview Lal. I just left there."

"You're already able to move around in the circle of powerful people?" Ron remembered this name. He was a populist politician.

Walking down the street, you can still see posters about him, advocating ethnic violence, inciting conflict, arson, and murder. He appears on television and in newspapers, and has attracted many extreme followers.

"You know, Ron, that private room upstairs is like a snake's nest. But I finished the interview. The plunging V-neck is his Achilles' heel!" She quickly approached Ron and poked his face. "Don't say anything!"

"Of course," Ron assured her, raising his hand. "I'm not interested in politicians. But seriously, this outfit is very nice. It suits you very well."

Kavya glanced down at her chest and quickly released her arms from around him.

"You bastard!" she whispered, then laughed through gritted teeth. "Pah! Man, what's wrong with the world? A man who calls the shots in the city won't talk to you, but ends up being obsessed with a plunging V-neck for two hours. Men are all perverts, what do you think?"

"You got it right." Ron sighed. He was one of the perverts.

"What a pig." I don't know who she was scolding.

"You have the final say. If you say yes, it is yes."

She glanced at Ron suspiciously, "What makes you so happy?"

"Where are you going?" Ron asked irrelevantly.

"what?"

"Where are you going now? Right now."

"Take a taxi back to the city. I live near the Flora Fountain in the Fortress District."

"That's just on the way. Let's talk about what happened last time."

(End of this chapter)