I'm a Master in India

Ron was preparing to meet Had Khan. His company had been open for a month, but the amount of Rupees in the account was pitifully small. He did, however, have a large bag of loose US dollars.

He needed to exchange these dollars for Rupees in order to pay his employees' salaries and continue to expand the company's scale.

Of course, another important factor was that the Rupee to US dollar exchange rate had stabilized, now roughly maintaining around 31:1.

In just two months, the Rupee had devalued by seventy percent. In March, 1 US dollar could be exchanged for 18 Rupees, but by May it had become 31 Rupees.

The changes in currency exchange rates had a far-reaching impact. The most direct feeling for the people of Mumbai was the rising prices.

The milk tea at roadside stalls, which used to be 20 paise a cup, had now directly increased to 50 paise, a more outrageous increase than the Rupee devaluation.

This sense of urgency regarding the shrinking of wealth, in turn, drove the prosperity of the foreign exchange black market.

The poor craved more Rupees, the rich were selling off the Rupees in their hands, and the whole of Mumbai was bizarre and chaotic.

"Ron, do you need me to call two more people?"

"No, it's too crowded."

Carrying a suitcase, Ron squeezed into Anand's taxi with difficulty.

Today, Anand was accompanying him to meet Had Khan, and the taxi was borrowed.

"Saints above, if people knew there was a suitcase full of US dollars in this car, we probably wouldn't make it out of this street."

"Hey, relax. This isn't a Bollywood movie. No one's going to pay attention to such an ordinary taxi."

"But your face is covered in sweat, Ron. Are you also afraid? You're just as timid as I am, aren't you?"

"Afraid my ass! What kind of broken car did you borrow? It doesn't even have air conditioning."

Ron was puzzled. Did none of the taxis on the streets of Mumbai have air conditioning? It was the same last time.

In late May, with temperatures in the thirties, it wouldn't be normal not to sweat in this small taxi.

Anand's oily face was even more不堪 than Ron's, but he patted the steering wheel with extreme pride.

"This is the pride of India, the Ambassador car. Look, how melodious its horn is."

As he spoke, Anand kept honking the horn, shaking his head and swaying with joy as if he were dancing.

Ron was already used to this. The lives of the Indian brothers could be poor, they could not have enough to eat.

But they absolutely couldn't be without music and dance. They could start dancing and celebrating at any time because of something happy.

There was a reason why Bollywood movies liked to dance at the drop of a hat. It really had a mass base.

"I'm very curious, the streets of Mumbai are full of Fiat taxis, where did you find this antique?"

"You don't understand, Ron. This thing is a real luxury item. In India, it's exclusive to officials and the rich."

The rounded Ambassador car was modeled after the British classic car, the Morris Oxford. After forty or fifty years, even the appearance hadn't changed.

The car was old, but the two of them recklessly weaved through the streets of Mumbai.

They laughed loudly and honked their horns wildly, just like the other taxis on the street.

Wild, chaotic, and dirty Mumbai, at this moment, had a unique charm.

They didn't stop smiling until they stopped at the familiar small building.

"I'll go up, you wait for me here."

Ron was about to get out of the car with the bag, but Anand grabbed his arm.

"Ron, remember what I said before, we only do legitimate business. Although the Rupee has become worthless, there are more tourists. I have a feeling that this year Mumbai won't have a tourist off-season."

Ron smiled, "Okay, I'll remember."

Although Anand respected Had Khan very much, he didn't want Ron to get too involved.

It was good as it was now, fleecing the foreign sheep, clean and safe.

Ron had been to this foreign currency exchange shop in South Mumbai several times, but he never knew that there was a private reception room right above it.

From the outside, this small building only had three floors, but the inside was quite different.

"Hey, Ron, Had Bhai is waiting for you." Johnny, guarding the door, gave him a warm hug.

"You look a little stronger again, very good."

"Fitness is my Zen practice, never interrupted."

Johnny opened the door and silently gestured inside. After Ron went in, he quietly closed the door again.

The room was large, not the dark room as imagined. Three exquisite chandeliers hung from the high ceiling.

At one end of the room near the main door, there was a long conference table and twelve high-backed teak chairs. Opposite it was a bookcase, and there were four high windows on the wall.

Prakash Had Khan stood in front of the high window, looking at the open scenery outside: roof gardens, balconies with green and yellow saris drying, and rust-red herringbone roofs.

Expensive speakers embedded in the wall were playing music. Ron listened carefully, it was a kind of love song with religious overtones.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Had Khan stood by the window, still with his back to him.

"If it's convenient."

Ron didn't decline. He had lost a lot of water on the way here because of sweating. In Mumbai, people always had to drink water constantly.

Had Khan turned around, turned off the music, and pressed a round button on the desk. Soon a servant came in to wait, and he ordered two cups of Persian tea.

It wasn't until they sat down on the sofa that Ron, facing the light, could see his face clearly.

His beard and hair were shaved very short, and he looked more energetic than the last time.

"Ron, it's nice to see you again. I've heard about your affairs."

"What are you referring to? Had Bhai?"

When he heard the title "Had Bhai", the man opposite him pursed his lips slightly, and a hint of a smile appeared in his cold eyes.

"Your company, I heard them discussing you. There are hundreds of thousands of guides in Mumbai, they do the same business as you, but they never thought of opening a company specifically."

"I wasn't sure if I could make it, but I thought that even if I failed, I wouldn't lose anything, so I did it."

"I'm starting to like you, Ron." He said it so bluntly that Ron was a little stunned.

The servant knocked on the door, and the two stopped talking. The servant who brought the tea held the thin-necked pot one meter above the glass, pouring the hot tea in mid-air without spilling a drop.

Two cups of hot tea were pushed in front of each of them, along with a sugar cube. Ron was a little thirsty and picked up the cup directly.

But Had Khan gestured for him to wait a moment, "We are drinking Persian tea, we must use the authentic Persian way."

He picked up a sugar cube and bit it tightly with his upper and lower incisors, then picked up the cup and sipped it in small sips through the sugar cube.

Ron followed suit, the sugar cube slowly broke and melted in his mouth, the taste was sweeter than he liked.

"How is it?"

"It's novel and interesting."

Had Khan's movements seemed to have a unique nobility and solemnity, but his expression was ordinary, this was a kind of aura that Ron had never seen before.

It wasn't until the red tea in the glass was less than half that the two of them sighed in unison.

"How many Rupees are you planning to exchange this time?"

"More than twenty thousand US dollars." Ron patted the suitcase at his feet.

A look of surprise appeared in Had Khan's eyes. This young man was even more unexpected than he had imagined.