I'm a Master in India

"Someone is willing to do this job?" Ron asked in surprise.

"Of course."

"Do they know what risks the test subjects have to bear?"

"They don't care," Anand replied casually.

Ron was silent for a moment, wondering if he hadn't made himself clear enough. Testing drugs wasn't just a matter of getting a shot; it could leave you with lifelong sequelae.

"Perhaps, I should take you to see," Anand suddenly suggested.

"Go where?"

"The real Mumbai."

"Come on, I've been to all the places worth going to in Mumbai," Ron waved dismissively. He hadn't exactly been walking in the sunshine for the past year.

"No, there's no way you've been there, I guarantee it," Anand said anxiously.

"In that case, let's go now," Luka rubbed his hands on the side, frankly he was very interested in this kind of place, the adventurous factor in his body was stirring again.

"Ron can go, but you can't."

"Why?" This time it was Luka's turn to be anxious.

"Because they don't welcome foreigners there."

"Brother, I know the rules, is it about money? I've still got some hidden, absolutely no problem."

"No, foreigners can't, not even with money," Anand shook his head again.

"Alright, you stay at the hotel, Anand and I will go take a look and then decide," Ron interrupted their bickering.

Most of his business had stalled, and he had nothing to do anyway, so it wouldn't hurt to go take a look.

Leaving Luka behind, Anand led Ron towards the slums. They only took small paths, not the main roads.

Originally, Ron was worried about the riots outside, but after circling through the maze-like alleys a few times, even the sound of car horns disappeared.

It was too quiet here, as if it didn't belong to Mumbai. The buildings on both sides were old and dilapidated, the once grand and imposing stone facades now peeling everywhere, covered in dirt, and scattered with haphazard repairs.

The small balconies visible everywhere overhead blocked most of the sunlight in the alleys. After a few turns, the alleys became darker and darker, and the buildings became even older.

"The next part of the road is not easy to walk, we have to walk along the outside, close to the wall."

With that, Anand turned and entered an even narrower alley. He spread his feet, until each foot reached the wall, then pressed his hands against the wall and walked along it.

Ron followed suit, entering the alley, where the light was even dimmer, almost completely dark.

There seemed to be puddles in the middle of the alley, with a pile of sticky stuff piled up there. Ron carefully avoided it, but a furry thing bumped into it recklessly.

A stench erupted from that soft, sticky thing, making Ron want to vomit.

"Anand, there's something under our feet, a big one!"

"There are only rats crawling here, Ron, nothing else."

"Damn it! You're saying that thing is a rat? I thought it was a cow!"

"Big rats are okay, Ron," he replied softly, "Big rats are friendly, they won't hurt people, except for one thing."

"What is it? Tell me quickly!"

"Shouting, Baba. They don't like loud noises, otherwise they will bite."

"Why didn't you say so earlier, how much further is it, I can't even see your back."

As he was speaking, Ron bumped into his back. It turned out that Anand had stopped, and in front of him was a wooden door with panels.

"We're here," Anand said softly, then reached out and knocked on the door. He knocked rhythmically, knocking once and pausing, then knocking again and pausing.

Ron held his breath, and from inside the door came the scraping sound of a heavy bolt sliding open and a clanging sound. The door opened, and a bright light suddenly appeared, blinding them.

Anand grabbed Ron's sleeve and went in, "Quick, don't let the big rats run in!"

They walked into a small room, with no windows around, sunlight only shining in from a rectangular skylight covered with silk.

A tall man slammed the door shut, then turned to face them, his face sullen, showing his teeth.

Anand immediately opened his mouth to appease him, speaking softly, with a flattering tone. Obviously, Ron's unfamiliar face made the man in front of him very unhappy.

This man was very burly, his nostrils were large, and his breathing was clearly audible, like the sound of sea breeze pouring into a cave.

His hair was very short, and the muscles on his face were more powerful than the back muscles of ordinary people. The mustache on his lips was like a dagger, making him look even angrier.

Anand negotiated with him for a while, then turned his head, "He said tourists are not allowed to come here."

"I understand Marathi, Anand," Ron gave him a helpless look.

The tall man was a little surprised, he thought Ron was a foreigner.

"Are you from Mumbai?" he asked.

"No, I'm from the North, but I like Marathi."

"God, you are the first Northerner I've ever seen who speaks Marathi better than Hindi."

"Thank you," Ron secretly curled his lips, he hadn't spoken Hindi from beginning to end, he didn't know where the other party's judgment came from.

"Since we are all our own people, then just follow the rules," the tall man smiled at them.

"100 rupees per person, Ron," Anand explained softly.

This was a tip, and after giving the money. The tall man then told Ron that his name was Naveen, and then pointed to the narrow aisle behind him, signaling them to go in.

"Naveen is a policeman, his jurisdiction is in northern Mumbai," Anand said quietly after turning around.

"A policeman?" Ron was surprised, "What is he doing here?"

"This is a side job, every policeman has a way to make money besides his salary. In Mumbai, you can't be happy without money."

Ron didn't speak, he shouldn't be surprised. He himself had given money to the police more than once, which was enough to explain the problem.

The aisle behind Naveen was very long, with several bends and doors. Anand first took him to a place that looked like a courtyard, but was more suitable to be called a patio.

Several men were sitting on rough wooden benches, chatting in groups of twos and threes. Some were Arabs, wearing loose robes and turbans.

Some people curiously looked at Ron, their eyes scrutinizing. Anand grinned and greeted them. They turned away and continued talking.

Someone in the middle looked up to check on a group of children sitting by the long benches, under a dilapidated canvas shed.

Those children were thin and petite, some sitting, some huddled together. Some were also working, rubbing coal balls with slender arms.

Ron looked up at the courtyard, there were no windows around, and the gaps were sealed tightly.

He suddenly realized what this place was, and those children were actually commodities.

"They come from the cyclone-stricken areas of West Bengal, the drought-stricken areas of Orissa, the cholera epidemic areas of Haryana, and the war-torn areas of Punjab, only the luckiest children can come here."

The luckiest? What about the unlucky ones? Ron couldn't bear to think about it.

Suddenly a little girl got up from the long bench, she danced and sang, singing a love song from a Bollywood blockbuster movie.

She was only ten years old, and her voice was surprisingly loud and high-pitched. She twisted her waist and swayed her hips, trying to imitate the movements of a charming dancer, in order to push up her undeveloped breasts.

She was selling herself, only by selling herself could she have a chance to live. Several buyers and agents' eyes lit up, secretly pondering how much money this could make them.

Anand introduced everything here to Ron like a tour guide, he told Ron that many children died before they could reach the human market.

Scouts who specialize in finding children wander around various disaster areas, wherever there is drought, earthquake, or flood, there they are.

Parents on the verge of starvation watched their children get sick and die one after another, so seeing these scouts was like seeing a savior.

They immediately knelt down and kissed the scout's feet, begging them to buy a son or daughter, at least to save one child.

The boys who are bought will eventually work as camel jockeys in the Persian Gulf countries, providing afternoon entertainment for wealthy dignitaries in camel races.

Some of them will be seriously injured or disabled in the race, and some will die directly. Those who are lucky enough to save their lives are often abandoned and have to fend for themselves because they are no longer suitable for the race.

As for the girls, roughly the darkest things in the world will happen to them, and working as maids in Persian Gulf families is the best ending.

"But they are alive," Anand said, "Those boys and girls, they are the lucky ones. Every time a child comes to the human market here, it means that at least a hundred children are dying from unspeakable hunger and disease."

His tone was always relaxed, not because he was cold-blooded, but because this country had been like this for thousands of years.

"Come, let's go take a look at the shelter, that's where we're going today."

Coming out of another door from the human market, Anand led Ron, continuing to walk through the narrow aisle.

Soon they came to an old apartment building, and Ron vaguely regained a sense of direction, this seemed to be near St. George Hospital.

"The people here definitely don't mind being drug testers, they don't have much time left."

Anand said that this was a hospice for terminally ill patients, full of patients and dying people. They walked in, and the floor was full of people.

"This hospice enjoys the reputation of a sacred place among the poor, it can provide you with a small piece of floor to shelter from the wind and rain, lie on it, and then wait to die."

Ron saw people walking around, adding labels to the patients, the symbols on the labels indicating how many usable organs that person had.

Calling it a hospice, it was more like a huge organ bank. The patients here were willing to provide their organs to the operators, in exchange for a quiet, clean place to wait for death, so as not to die in the streets.

The patients here were moved to tears and very respectful of this hospice, and the way they looked at the staff was as affectionate as if they loved him.

"Ron, can the laboratory you mentioned provide a clean place?"

"I think... probably can..."

"Can it give them a bite to eat?"

"Should... no problem..."

"Will they be beaten?"

"Of course not!"

"Will they be thrown into the streets?"

"No!"

"They will respect you like a god!" Anand said, pointing to the patients on the floor.

Ron was speechless.

PS: All day yesterday, people were in a trance. But in the future, it will still be 10,000 words a day! Until the end of the month, continue to update explosively!