I'm a Master in India

Chapter 237: Sounding the Alarm

It's not just India that lacks US dollars; East University does too.

Although this year's exchange rate reform and consolidation have eased the situation,

According to regulations, companies and individuals must sell their foreign exchange income to designated banks, which then manage it centrally.

To put it bluntly, foreign exchange quotas still cannot be freely used, and they are far from abundant.

Upon hearing that Ashish was paying for the black-and-white TV production lines in US dollars, and buying two at once, the manufacturers who were worried about where to get rid of their old junk were overjoyed.

They actively sought him out, treating Ashish and the others to good food and wine, just to get rid of their factory's burdens as quickly as possible.

The initial quote of 300,000 US dollars, due to the entry of too many competitors, actually dropped straight to 200,000 US dollars.

In the end, relevant departments couldn't stand by and mediated the transaction.

A certain TV factory in Magic City, having the advantage of proximity, sold two production lines that were 80% new and in good condition for a discounted price of 450,000 US dollars.

Following the principle of a first transaction and looking towards future cooperation, they also gave Ashish two sets of spare parts for repairs.

Of course, with Ron's approval, Ashish, representing Sur Electrical Appliances, also reciprocated.

They signed a contract with several TV component factories here at East University, mainly for the procurement of certain core components.

According to the agreement, over the next two years, Sur Electrical Appliances will import 200,000 picture tubes and circuit boards from component factories like Hongguang and Shangdian.

There's no other way; core components like picture tubes cannot be produced in India and must be imported.

However, East University's quote was very cheap: 20 US dollars per 14-inch picture tube, equivalent to 172 RMB, or about 620 rupees.

When he received the call from Ashish, Ron thought he had misheard.

It wasn't that he hadn't inquired about picture tubes on the international market.

The same 14-inch picture tube was quoted at 100 US dollars each in Europe and America, and a bit cheaper in Japan and Korea, at 80 US dollars.

East University's quote was only a quarter or a fifth of theirs, a definite rock-bottom price.

What else is there to say? Buy!

Actually, they didn't know that the manufacturers in East University were also uneasy after giving the quote.

Because there was excess domestic capacity for this stuff, and it was also on the verge of being phased out. Black-and-white TVs still sold in rural areas, but urban residents had long since stopped paying attention.

Their cost of producing a 14-inch picture tube was only around 100 RMB, selling it to the Indian guy for 172 RMB was indeed making a killing.

Then a strange scene appeared; Ashish wanted to bargain but didn't dare, while the manufacturers in East University wanted to concede but were afraid of showing weakness.

Like a mantis fighting a wolf, both sides were scared.

Finally, Ashish tentatively asked them to cover the shipping costs and later training expenses, and the East University manufacturers immediately agreed.

Alright, one bought goods that were good and cheap, and the other unexpectedly opened up a channel for earning foreign exchange; everyone was happy.

The atmosphere during the signing was extremely enthusiastic, just like when NEC signed in Mumbai.

Ron was extremely satisfied with this transaction; he had found the code to wealth.

The main cost of a TV is the picture tube, accounting for about 30%-50% of the total, while other parts can be sourced in India.

Including tariffs, other components, labor, electricity, and various other costs, the total cost for Sur Electrical Appliances to produce a 14-inch black-and-white TV was about 1700 rupees.

Damn, now it's really better to buy than to make.

No black-and-white TV in India sells for less than 8000 rupees; how can they compete?

For a moment, Ron even considered just becoming a compradore from now on.

East University's products arriving in India would be complete dumping; there would be no competitors.

Unfortunately, the path of a compradore doesn't last long; after two years, when India fully opens its doors, more and more people will target this market.

Without a technological advantage and unable to keep up with the pace of iteration, being eliminated is inevitable.

Fortunately, he doesn't need to consider this problem for now; Ron can completely start as a compradore first.

A total cost of 1700 rupees would be a dimension-reducing strike against the other two domestic competitors in India.

However, this matter must be kept low-key, not widely publicized like the cooperation with NEC.

Everyone who understands knows the relationship between India and East University.

Ron can only quietly enter the village, without firing a shot.

It just so happens that NEC is providing cover ahead, so the problem isn't big.

According to Ashish's news, the production lines from East University are expected to arrive at the port in about a month, which is incredibly fast.

Ron is looking forward to it; he wants to see the TVs with the Sur logo rolling off the line with his own eyes.

However, a call from his hometown in Uttar Pradesh forced him to temporarily put aside matters in Mumbai; there was trouble at the mine.

Muna now feels even more like he is living in paradise; not only can he eat curry grilled chicken every few days, but he also has time to read!

What a luxurious thing, that was a privilege only for the rich and the Lords.

Now Muna also has this privilege; it was a gift from his Master.

The few books on his bedside table are proof, covering everything from Indian encyclopedias to introductions to social customs.

Muna cherishes these books, just like he treats rupees.

However, he usually doesn't read in the room, because Doji always makes sarcastic remarks.

Doji desperately wanted to leave the mine and return to Varanasi or stay with his Master Ratan, but he never got his wish.

He took out all his resentment on Muna; they shared a room, only a meter apart, but they never exchanged friendly words.

Not even a simple "hello" or "how is your mother?" - no similar greetings at all.

The first thing Doji did every morning after getting up was bow and pray to the no less than twenty images of gods he had pasted on the wall, muttering "Om, Om, Om" under his breath.

At this time, he would glance at Muna out of the corner of his eye, as if to say, "Don't you pray? What are you doing? Are you a traitor disguised as a herdsman?"

Muna couldn't stand it. One evening, he went to the market and bought all the images of Lord Rama and Monkey God he could find, about twenty-four or twenty-five of them.

He pasted all the images inside the house, so that in terms of the number of god images, he was on equal footing with Doji.

Every morning, after bowing to these great gods, they both loudly prayed without showing weakness, each wanting to overpower the other's voice.

After persisting for a few days, Muna realized in time that he didn't need to waste time with that guy at all.

With this time, wouldn't it be better to read more?

So, under Doji's triumphant gaze, Muna no longer competed with him over who was more loyal to the gods.

Muna got up very early, before the sun was out, the roosters crowed like mad throughout the village.

He carefully left the house, took his books, and climbed towards the small hill near the mine.

The sun was about to rise, and the pond at the foot of the hill shimmered. Occasionally, stones would roll down from the hilltop, tumbling and roaring all the way into the pond.

Half of the stones that fell into the water were submerged, their surfaces smooth and wet, like large pebbles.

The surface of the pond was covered with lotus flowers and water lilies, and the ripples among the flowers reflected points of silver light.

The village water buffaloes waded through the pond as usual, chewing on water lily leaves, their noses creating a large V-shaped wave wherever they went.

The sun slowly rose, casting its light on the water buffaloes, on Muna, and on this land.

Muna looked up, where there was a stone wall, and the rows of lookout holes in the wall looked like bright red lines at sunrise.

That's right, there was an ancient fort on the hilltop, which the villagers preferred to call the Black Fort.

It is said that the Black Fort is at least several hundred years old, but no one knows who built it.

Perhaps the Ottomans, perhaps the Persians, perhaps the British, or other foreigners who had ruled India.

Muna curled his lip in disdain; he had read history and understood that India had never been truly free.

First, the herdsmen had absolute power, then it was the turn of the British to order them around.

The British left in the 1940s, but only idiots believed India was truly free.

Now the Black Fort has long been abandoned, and a group of monkeys rule as kings. Apart from shepherds who sometimes graze their sheep nearby, no one else goes up there.

The closer he got, the clearer the chattering of the monkey troop became. Their agile figures leaped and jumped along the city walls, climbing high and descending low, sometimes fighting each other, as if possessed by the spirits of the dead Black Fort warriors, wanting to resume their decisive battle.

Muna climbed to the summit, passed through the gate, and entered the Black Fort.

He looked around; there were only a few dilapidated walls and a group of frightened monkeys watching him from afar.

The stones in the pond at the foot of the hill likely fell from the stone walls of the Black Fort.

Muna ignored the chattering threats of the monkeys. He climbed to a bare platform on top of the Black Fort.

The light here was just right, with no obstruction, and an ancient stone table was still left.

It was Muna's desk, sturdy, durable, and preserved for hundreds of years.

Muna liked to read here; no one disturbed him, and it was also an excellent lookout post.

As long as he stood up and walked to the stone wall, he could overlook the mine, the cement factory construction site at the foot of the hill, and the small village not far away.

Muna saw the temple tower near the village, the small market, the sparkling sewage ditch, the big houses of the beasts, and his home.

There was also a small black dot at his doorstep, which Muna knew was a water buffalo; this was simply the most beautiful scenery in the world.

He leaned out of the fort, wanting to let out a couple of loud shouts.

Well, he didn't do that, for fear that people from the mine would come up to check.

Huh, Muna, who was just about to turn back to read, suddenly froze. A line of small black dots was approaching in the distance.

They were coming from the south, with cars and pedestrians, a mighty procession.

Muna was surprised; Karna Village rarely had outsiders, especially outsiders coming from the south.

Villagers were already used to workers coming from Varanasi in the north, but why from the south?

Muna squinted for a while, then his face suddenly changed.

This isn't good; it must be people from Mirzapur.

That King of Mirzapur, Karim Bai! Only he could mobilize so many people.

Muna turned and ran down the hill, not even bothering about the books on the stone table.

Muna always remembered what his Master had told him: keep a close eye on any disturbance near Karna Village.

He ran too fast, like a warrior charging down from the Black Fort, almost failing to stop and falling into the pond as he passed by.

"Doji! Doji! Quick! Karim Bai's people are here!" Muna shouted.

The workers who had just started work at the mine looked confused, completely unaware of what he was shouting.

It wasn't until Doji, who came out upon hearing the commotion, vigorously rang the bronze bell under the eaves.

Dong! Dong! Dong! The mine was awakened and became restless.