I'm a Master in India

The restaurant that Anand promised would be so delicious you'd eat until you burst wasn't far from Victoria Station.

Arriving at the entrance, Ron looked at the sign with some bewilderment.

"Doesn't the decoration of this place look a bit strange?"

"You mean the upside-down 'M' at the entrance? That's very trendy right now, yeah, even abroad."

"But this isn't McDonald's, is it?"

"Oh, right, McDonald's, awesome!" Anand shook his head happily. "This is just the position reversed; it's called WacDonald's."

"But it doesn't seem to sell fast food either; I don't see any trays."

"We don't use trays."

"No trays?"

"Banana leaves, that's what we use."

Anand went in first, then turned on the tap by the entrance to wash his hands. Rajesh did the same, and Ron, of course, could only follow suit.

It seemed like all the customers in this restaurant were locals, and judging by their attire, they all had decent jobs.

The three of them chose a window seat, and a waiter came over to place shiny, fresh green banana leaves, along with a glass of water.

Don't misunderstand; this isn't for drinking. Rajesh and Anand both picked up their glasses, sprinkled some water on the leaves, and wiped them with their right hands, considering them clean.

Although Ron had some memories awakened, this fresh experience was still a first for him.

"Mr. Sur, you speak French. Did you learn it at university?"

While waiting to order, Rajesh began to subtly inquire about Ron's background.

"My parents taught me."

"Oh, what kind of business do they do in Mumbai?"

"They were originally teachers, but they died in a religious conflict this year."

Rajesh was somewhat surprised and disappointed, but quickly followed with an angry curse: "Damn Muslims!"

"Shiva will not forgive them," Anand said, pressing his palms together in prayer.

This was the first time he'd heard Ron talk about his family, and the mysterious veil surrounding the latter was finally lifted a little.

"I will bring their ashes back to the sacred river, but before that, I will do some things in Mumbai."

Rajesh perked up his ears; he knew the theme of this lunch was about to be revealed.

However, before they could get to the topic, the waiter came again to serve the food.

Fried flatbread, roasted chicken, cream toast, sweet jelly, pickled mango, green peppers and onions, yogurt, and various masalas were individually distributed onto the moistened leaves by the waiter.

Following behind him was someone specifically responsible for serving rice, pressing a large spoonful firmly before dumping it onto the leaf, a frighteningly large portion.

And that wasn't all; he would help you break up half of the rice piled high on the leaf and then pour vegetable curry sauce over it.

Ron really wanted to tell the waiter to let him do it himself, as he wasn't a fan of curry.

But they were too enthusiastic, and before he could even open his mouth, the steaming hand-grabbed rice was already through the preparation process.

At this point, no one was in the mood for conversation. Anand and Rajesh first rubbed and kneaded the food with three fingers of their right hands, then grabbed it and put it in their mouths.

"Truly delicious."

"The roasted chicken pieces are good, the crispy bread is good, everything is good."

Watching the two of them eating with gusto, Ron hesitated for a long time before finally deciding to extend his right hand.

The sticky feeling was unpleasant, and he kneaded and kneaded for a long time but couldn't get it to clump together.

In contrast, Anand and Rajesh were very skilled, never getting anything above their second knuckles dirty.

Ron tried for less than two minutes, and not only were his third knuckles a mess, but there were grains of rice even on the back of his hand.

Finally, with no other choice, he asked the waiter for a spoon.

That was better. With a scoop, he also started chowing down.

Rajesh and Anand exchanged a glance, both seeing amusement in each other's eyes.

Look, this master is even more pampered than those feudal lords.

If you're full while eating here, you fold the banana leaf in half. Otherwise, the waiters weaving between the tables will notice if the rice or curry is running low and will keep coming over to add more.

After the three of them finished the rice and dealt with the toast and jelly desserts, they leaned leisurely against their chairs with milk tea in hand.

"Mr. Sur, you just said you have some things to do in Mumbai?"

"That's right, I'm planning to start a company."

"Start a company?" This answer greatly exceeded Rajesh's expectations.

Ron looked like a college student at most; it was hard to associate that with starting a company.

"I've been considering it for a long time; this isn't a whim."

"What are you planning to do with your company?"

"A travel information company."

"Travel information?"

"Simply put, it's about providing the services that tourists coming to Mumbai need, such as being a guide, calling a taxi, finding a hotel, and so on."

Rajesh wanted to laugh, but after seeing the red thread on Ron's wrist, he swallowed back the words of ridicule he was about to say.

"That's not a good idea."

"Why?"

"Because every airport and train station in Mumbai has hundreds, even thousands, of people doing the same business. They are all your competitors, including this fellow sitting next to you."

Anand, who was shot while lying down, blinked his eyes and continued to play dumb.

"It's not the same. They are all individuals, at most a few colluding together, but I want to start a company."

"If they steal your business, you won't be able to start a company." Rajesh didn't understand; this was a principle everyone knew.

"A company is an organization, while an individual is always an individual." Ron took a sip of milk tea, his eyes shining. "My goal is to make the best of those people my employees."

Rajesh shrugged; it was up to him.

"So..."

"They all say you have a lot of influence in this area, and I want to establish this company quickly."

"That will cost some money, you know. Indian officials only work after they get paid."

Rajesh's voice was loud, and Ron suspected that everyone in the restaurant could hear him.

Was it really okay to conspire so loudly?

"Ahem, I've prepared for that. I just don't know who to look for yet; there are too many public departments in Mumbai, and some have overlapping jurisdictions."

"Then you've come to the right person. No one knows Mumbai better than I do!"

When it came to business, Rajesh changed his attitude from just now, when he hadn't been optimistic. His smug expression made it seem as if this business couldn't be done without him.

"Okay, let's go somewhere else to talk."

Ron called the waiter to pay the bill. The three of them spent a total of 70 rupees.

That was less than $5, but in India, it was definitely high spending.

Just look at Rajesh's round belly, and you'd know that, as a patrol officer, he couldn't often come to places like this to show off his wealth.

The group came outside, and the so-called change of location was just finding an empty corner.

Giving benefits to the police is fine on the street anyway; no one cares.

Finally, after bargaining, Ron bought his first network connection for 500 rupees.

Rajesh promised him that he would introduce him to an official from the Mumbai Commerce Department in two days.

As for whether the next thing could be negotiated, that had nothing to do with him.

"Ron, no problem, you will definitely be able to start a company," Anand said, shaking his head at him, full of confidence.

"Why?"

"Because you are a Brahmin. Brahmins and officials wear the same pants."

Ron didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He didn't know if this was sarcasm or comfort.

Of course, he was more convinced that it was comfort, but Anand's thought process was a bit too peculiar.

"By the way, why are you so sure I'm a Brahmin, just judging from my last name? But do you remember the taxi that day? He didn't even ask my name."

"Ron, you are constantly telling others that you are a Brahmin."

"Hmm?"

"Look at your feet. Those are boots made of tanned camel leather, right? Most ordinary people are mostly barefoot or wear sandals. And the sacred thread on your wrist; it's red cotton."

Ron raised his hand and looked at it. He had this thing when he first woke up that day. Perhaps because he was used to it, he never paid attention to it.

"Only Brahmins can wear the red sacred thread. Wearing the wrong color, or wearing it recklessly, has serious consequences."

Anand's two thick, dark arms were bare. He had never even entered a temple because Dalits were not allowed.

Okay, being Indian is too troublesome.

Here, Ron took the first step in his career, while the French couple, Henry and his wife, were about to welcome their second act.