I'm a Master in India

"brother, your only hope now is Arthur Road Jail, you'll have a chance once you get there."

"I don't want to go to jail."

"What's the difference between now and being in jail?"

Anand was silent, he wanted to be a good person, and good people shouldn't go to jail.

"When you get to Arthur Road Jail, you can spread the word. That prison is big, with twelve thousand people locked up, you'll always find a chance."

"How do you know?" Anand asked.

"I'm what they call a repeat offender," the prisoner next to him, Anil, shrugged, "I committed theft, stealing things from construction sites, copper wire, plastic pipes. I've been to jail three times, this is the fourth."

"Do you like it here?"

"What?" Anil looked at him as if he were an idiot.

"Then why do you keep finding excuses to come in? You clearly don't have to do that."

"Good heavens," Anil covered his forehead with his hand, "You're an idiot!"

"Ron Baba said so too." Anand sighed.

"Who?"

"Ron Baba, Ron. Sur."

"That's not funny at all." Anil looked at him with contempt.

"Really, he's my brother, he's a good person too."

"yaar, Dr. Sur is indeed a good person, but he can't control the life and death of prisoners."

"If he knew I was here, he would definitely come to save me, I have to find a way to send a message out."

"Then follow me when you get to Arthur Road Jail. If you're lucky, you'll be locked up for three years, if you're unlucky, five years. When I get out, I'll help you send the message."

"Three years!" Anand shrieked.

"Provided you're lucky enough."

"No, it's too late!" Anand held his head, on the verge of collapse.

"Alright, brother, it's mealtime." Anil pushed him and got up to queue.

Every prisoner who comes in here receives an aluminum plate as a mess tin, which is the only metal utensil they can carry.

There are no knives, forks, or spoons, they eat everything with their hands.

There are no cups either, when drinking tea, they ladle the tea into the plate and sip it lightly with their mouths.

Anand's plate was lost, it was stolen one night on his third day here.

He knew where the plate ended up, it was in the fourth room.

Besides eating, the plates here have other uses, such as making temporary heating pots.

By folding two aluminum plates into a V-shape to serve as a stand, a third aluminum plate can be placed on top.

A simple heating pot is formed, just place some combustible material underneath, and it can be used to heat tea and food.

The reason the first room can eat hot food at night is entirely thanks to it.

However, the heating is done in the fourth room, because the sandals and shirts used as fuel produce pungent smoke when burned.

The rich people in the five-star hotel can't stand this smell, so others do it for them.

The fourth room specializes in looting, there are always broken clothes and worn-out shoes left over, which are perfect fuel.

The boss in the room helps the first room heat food for a fee, which is one of his main sources of income.

It's just that the other people in the room don't have it so good.

The oily soot from burning floats everywhere, and the dirty floors, walls, and even people's faces in the fourth room are blackened by smoke.

Aluminum plates have a limited lifespan, after being folded multiple times, they become brittle and dented, making them unusable.

Therefore, new aluminum plates are needed, and Anand's plate was stolen and traded for something.

But he couldn't go look for it, because he didn't know who the thief was, and the people in the fourth room wouldn't give him a good look.

The boss there was as strong as a gorilla, and Anand was very sensible not to add to his troubles.

Anil sympathized with Anand, so he would secretly lend him his plate.

Scooping the hot lentil paste from the iron bars, Anil cupped his fingers and slurped it clean in a few gulps.

Then he handed the plate to Anand, time was tight, about six or seven minutes in total.

If he couldn't get food during this time, Anand would go hungry for a day.

They had seen the eyes of people who were dizzy with hunger, they were green like wild dogs.

Anand hurriedly shoveled the food into his mouth, and before he could even scoop some tea, a policeman appeared at the door.

Clang, the key was inserted into the lock. The iron door opened, and the policeman stood at the door, looking around.

"You, come here!" He looked in Anand's direction.

Anil calmly took the plate and gave him a 'good luck' expression.

Anand was taken back to the interrogation room where he had been brought in that day, but this time a more imposing policeman sat behind the desk.

The other party didn't speak, just gave a look to the person beside him.

The fat policeman immediately grabbed Anand by the collar, "Now you have a chance to confess, kid, make the most of it."

"Wh-what?" Anand swallowed nervously.

"Are you doing illegal business for someone?"

Anand trembled, "Officer, I'm just a Mumbai street guide."

Slap, a loud slap landed almost immediately.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Speak! Are you doing smuggling business? Kid, you'd better be honest, we already have enough evidence."

The fat policeman said half-truths, this was a common method for interrogating criminals.

He was hinting to Anand that the police already knew everything, and now was the time to confess for leniency, otherwise, resistance would be met with severity.

Yes, this was the psychological warfare Ajay talked about.

The people sitting here were old policemen, they were familiar with these routines.

"Officer, I really didn't! I've been a guide in Mumbai for almost ten years, people on the street can testify for me."

Slap, slap, slap, this time the fat policeman switched to a metal-tipped bamboo stick, and Anand's face immediately swelled up.

"I'll remind you again, don't think we don't know what you've been doing lately, is it organs?" The fat policeman's eyes turned dangerous.

"Officer, you're really mistaken. I just run errands for people, I don't know anything."

He continued to be beaten, from slaps, bamboo sticks, to belts, there was not a single intact spot on his face.

Bruises, bloodstains, wounds, and swelling distorted his entire face.

"Didn't you say you knew someone last time, was it him?"

Anand shook his head, his intuition told him not to admit anything.

"Speak!" The whip fell again and again.

Anand lowered his head and remained silent.

"Are you going to speak? Are you going to speak?" The rain of sticks pounded.

Finally, the fat policeman got tired of hitting him, Anand was already unrecognizable, he couldn't even open his mouth.

"Boss, this guy is tough."

The imposing policeman was indifferent.

The fat man gritted his teeth, "Give him the 'earth airplane'."

This time the ropes were tied too tightly, and when Anand was let down, his limbs were completely numb.

"Send this Dalit to Arthur Road Jail!" The fat man ordered his subordinates to carry Anand away.

"Boss, why are we wasting effort on this Dalit?" He was puzzled.

"We are only responsible for arresting people, but not killing them, that's the business of the big shots."

In fact, the police had initially received orders to directly get rid of Anand.

But that big shot was not from the police system, not even an official, so the police naturally wouldn't follow the order.

They knew that this Dalit was related to the famous Dr. Sur, who was also a big shot.

Leaving a way out, the Mumbai police were very shrewd.

However, having taken money to do the job, they had to make Anand suffer enough, which was also an explanation to the employer.

"Boss, that's Ron. Sur, won't there be a problem if we interrogate him like this?" To be honest, the fat man was a little nervous.

"Afraid of what!" The imposing policeman cursed, "Blame this whole thing on that person."

The fat man's eyes lit up, that's right!

Ron. Sur was a big shot, and the person who wanted to deal with him was also a big shot.

When big shots fight, the safest approach for them was to watch from the sidelines.

Of course, it wasn't impossible to make some small moves.

For example, torturing this Dalit and digging out some useful leverage from his mouth.

Regardless of the outcome of the fight later, they might be able to make a fortune from it in the future.

These big shots would spare no expense to seal mouths to cover their tracks.

They weren't afraid of Ron's blame either, this could be completely pushed onto his opponent.

You're fighting to the death, it's normal to dig up each other's dirt, right?

Now that no valuable information could be dug out, they should quickly throw this hot potato to the prison.

The person shouldn't die at the police station, just torture him for a while, and they can account for it to both sides later.

They would never completely offend the other party to death, but releasing the person was also impossible.

They had taken money from others and promised not to leak information, these things could always be done.

When Anand was thrown back into the detention room, his limbs were so numb he couldn't stand up at all.

The people in the corridor all stayed far away, they knew this person must be a thorn in the police's side, otherwise he wouldn't receive such frequent "special attention".

Anil was also scared, but he still used the aluminum plate to get water and gently wiped the dried bloodstains from Anand's face.

"brother, you're really miserable."

Anand moved his mouth which was swollen like a sausage, but no sound came out.

"You must hold on until Arthur Road Jail."

Anil's worry was unnecessary, the very next day, they were crammed into a blue prisoner transport vehicle.

A full eighty people, crowding the compartment with a capacity of only thirty people so tightly that water couldn't seep through.

The prisoner transport vehicle crashed and dashed through the Mumbai streets that Anand once loved to death.

Entering the prison gate, the guards pulled them out from the back of the vehicle and told them to squat on the ground.

Anand's body hadn't recovered yet, he could barely drag his legs to walk.

The guards inspected them one by one, then directed them to enter the prison one by one.

They squatted on the ground and dragged their legs to walk, Arthur Road Jail was very big, they walked for half an hour before reaching the place.

There were still guards waiting for them inside, the prisoners were divided into different prisons, Anand was specifically left for last.

Someone told the guard that this Dalit could speak english.

So the guard ordered Anand to stand up in english, to test if he really understood.

Anand propped himself up with his stiff and painful legs, and the guard ordered him to squat down again.

He squatted down, only to hear the order to stand up again.

From the roar of laughter from the surrounding guards, Anand knew they were making fun of him.

He was silent, but could only follow suit.

Just half a month of prison life had already told him that the consequences of disobeying orders would be severe.

After more than a dozen times without end, the only sensation Anand's legs had was also about to disappear.

Finally, that guard seemed to be tired of this game, he stared coldly at Anand, and slowly revealed a sinister smile.

"Someone told me to take good care of you, now go down that road!"

He pointed to a passage leading into the interior of the prison, it was pitch black, like a gaping maw ready to devour people.