I'm a Master in India

Chapter 277: North Robber, South Thief

Jayalalitha has always been very careful to protect her privacy, and few outside media outlets report on this aspect.

Thus, a slightly strange scene appeared: Amma's image was ubiquitous, yet few people knew about her life beyond politics.

Unmarried and childless, she had lived alone with her female assistant in a downtown apartment for many years.

Aside from family members like Kavya, who had the opportunity to visit, all others were refused.

This time, Ron was fortunate enough to get a glimpse of the mysterious female Chief Minister's residence.

The house was decorated quite luxuriously; upon opening the door, a dazzling golden light immediately greeted them.

The chandelier was golden, the sofa was golden, and the corners of the glass table were inlaid with real gold.

At both ends of the living room curtains, there were clusters of golden tassels.

The ceiling lights were also shaped like long golden branches, with leaves extending out, each holding a hundred-watt light bulb.

Everything was gleaming, with golden light.

During the first two minutes of entering the apartment, Ron was so dazed by the golden light coming from everywhere that he felt dizzy.

Soon, his attention was drawn to a huge shoe cabinet by the door, more than a person's height, occupying the entire entryway along the wall.

Ron didn't understand luxury goods, but he recognized brand logos like Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Prada, and Hermes.

A rough count revealed at least hundreds of pairs of shoes in the cabinet—sandals, leather shoes, slippers, everything—all luxury items.

Oh, right, there were also bags; they had a dedicated collection area too.

Ron felt nothing seeing them, but Kavya could barely tear her eyes away.

“Pick out whatever you like and take a few with you later,” Jayalalitha said as she emerged from the room.

She had shed her simple image seen on camera, not only changing into an expensive sari but also adorned with various gold jewelry on her wrists, neck, and ears, leaving no part unadorned.

The most exaggerated item was her belt, made of gold, weighing one kilogram. It was embedded with over a thousand diamonds, emeralds, and rubies, with a dancing peacock carved in the center.

Ron felt as if it wasn't a person walking towards him, but a mobile luxury display rack.

“These are your things, Auntie,” Kavya said, giggling as she leaned in and whispered a few words to her, and Jayalalitha nodded in satisfaction.

“Amma,” Ron also went over to perform the foot-touching ritual.

It was so damn luxurious that he was too stunned to open his eyes.

“We are all family,” she said, reaching out to support Ron's shoulder, signaling him not to be so formal.

“Thank you for everything you've done here in Tamil Nadu.”

“It's nothing,” she waved her hand, “Take good care of Kavya.”

“Of course.”

Just as they were speaking, someone knocked on the door outside. A servant went to answer it, and soon a young man and woman in their twenties were brought in.

“Amma!” The young man rushed over, as if he wanted to kneel at Jayalalitha's feet.

“Get up quickly, how many times have I told you? You're about to start your own family; you need to act like an adult.”

“Amma, I will always be your son.”

Ron was stunned and looked at Kavya. Didn't you say your aunt was unmarried and childless?

Kavya also looked bewildered; clearly, she didn't know who this young man in front of her was either.

Jayalalitha was currently holding another girl's hand and saying something, a wide smile on her face, and she casually gave the girl a few pieces of her gold jewelry.

“Oh, by the way, this is Sudhakaram, my adopted son,” Jayalalitha introduced them to each other.

Kavya was puzzled, so she subtly probed for more information.

This Sudhakaram was the son of one of Jayalalitha's friends. That friend passed away this year, so he was adopted.

No matter how Ron looked at him, he felt that this so-called adopted son was a cunning person; he had been staring at the luxury goods ever since he entered the door.

Yet, Jayalalitha doted on him immensely, not only giving his girlfriend several pieces of gold jewelry but also telling them to take whatever they liked.

“Ram will be holding his wedding in Madras in September this year; you all must come then.”

“Okay,” Kavya and Ron nodded.

They had to give this much face, even if neither of them liked the adopted son.

He had even copied the politicians, getting a tattoo of Amma's head on his arm.

Jayalalitha was very pleased, and within a few sentences, she allocated three million rupees from the Tamil Nadu Cultural Department's budget to him.

Sudhakaram and his girlfriend were both in the entertainment industry; they had established a media company specifically to receive subsidies from the government.

Well, this was a parasite.

After a hasty lunch, Ron and Kavya didn't stay long. The other two seemed afraid that they would compete for favor, talking incessantly throughout and leaving no room for conversation.

Ron was too lazy to bother with any of this; he didn't have the time.

“Are you going back to Mumbai?” Kavya asked after they left the apartment.

“To be precise, I'm going to Gujarat.”

“Hmm?”

“I promised the local Indian People's Party that I would support them during the election.”

The Gujarat general election had already begun, with results expected in March.

This time, their campaign theme was “Economy. Gujarat,” clearly indicating that economic development was the top priority.

An industrialist like Ron would inevitably become the focus of local media attention.

The Indian People's Party was skilled at building momentum, having already spread rumors that Sule Electric would be settling in Gujarat.

For his own money-making plans, Ron also needed to make an appearance at a crucial moment.

“I'm sorry, I didn't get a chance to visit your parents this time.”

“Your business is more important,” Kavya shrugged, “They live in the suburbs, far from here.”

Her family also had an estate, but it wasn't in the city, dozens of kilometers away from here.

“By the way, about your aunt's adopted son, I feel she spoils him too much. If word gets out, the media will make a big deal out of it,” Ron reminded her.

“You know, her identity is very sensitive. She will never marry or have children in this life; her adopted son is her only solace.”

“It's best to remind her,” Ron sighed.

“I will.”

Jayalalitha was able to climb to the highest point in a state that resented high castes, as a Brahmin, and her independent female persona helped a lot.

When she first entered politics, she was roughly treated by political enemies, and people sympathized with her.

Her unmarried and childless status also dispelled many people's concerns; at least such a helpless person would not cultivate any hereditary politics.

In short, this identity made her, and also constrained her. Gaining power also came at a price.

Ron didn't want the big leg he had just hugged to collapse so soon.

His Sul Electrical Factory had just started construction, and the port had just been secured; his foundation was not yet stable and needed time.

Jayalalitha seemed to deliberately keep a low profile, but her occasional glimpse of greed and her extravagant habits would sooner or later lead to her downfall.

After all, it was her first time being elected Chief Minister, so it was inevitable that she would get a bit carried away.

She was a contradictory person; you could completely say she was corrupt, yet on the other hand, she firmly believed that leaders should govern effectively.

For example, when developing industry, she was willing to use free land policies to invite foreign car companies to build factories.

As for other industries, she would take a kickback at the beginning, such as agreeing on a commission percentage in the contract or demanding a sum of money from the company before factory construction.

Once the kickback was in hand, she would instruct her subordinates to proceed with the project normally and demand that they complete the tasks with quality and quantity.

Honestly, this approach was acceptable to politicians, businessmen, and the public, making everyone happy.

Even Ron felt that if officials could all reach this level, it would be quite good.

Don't forget, this is India.

Compared to the bandit-like practices in North India, officials in South India are more like thieves.

One wants to devour all the benefits, while the other secretly pockets money within the limits tolerated by voters.

Ron stayed in Tamil Nadu for over half a month, and by the time he returned to Mumbai, it was already February.

Days unfolded one by one, like lotus petals unfurling in the summer dawn, then passed in a flurry of overwhelming busyness.

Unconsciously, it was already 1995, and Ron seemed to have never been idle, completely unlike a lazy Indian.

He hadn't really enjoyed his big villa in Mumbai; most of his time was spent in Sur Industrial Park.

The picture tube production line, which had been in the works since November last year, finally began production.

From now on, over 90% of Suer TV parts could be self-produced, eliminating the risk of being choked by the supply chain.

Of course, the biggest benefit was saving $8 in cost per television, increasing the profit per unit for the 14-inch line to 2100 rupees.

However, two lines were too few; it needed to be doubled to barely meet the Mumbai factory's capacity.

The picture tubes for the 18-inch line were also being prepared, expected to start production in the first half of the year, at which point Sule Electric would have full control over the main models of black and white televisions.

Out of the monthly output of 110,000 units, 100,000 units were 14-inch products. The 18-inch televisions had just started production, with a temporary monthly output of only about 10,000 units.

However, there was no need to worry; two more 18-inch lines would be launched next month, easily doubling capacity.

In addition, the newly built 18-inch color TV production line was also undergoing intensive debugging, which was several months ahead of schedule.

There was no other way; the color TVs jointly produced by Sule Electric and NEC were selling out, even at the high price of 18,000 rupees.

Things were indeed as Maharashtra's Commerce Minister Bhujbal had said: although India announced its entry into the WTO, tariff barriers had not disappeared.

The government's statement was to gradually reduce tariffs over the next five years to give domestic enterprises time to adapt.

As soon as the news broke, people from all walks of life rejoiced.

The price of imported goods did not decrease, and the public ultimately had no choice but to opt for cheaper domestic products.

This was good news for joint ventures; the newly launched 18-inch color TVs sold out quickly.

Compared to the high price of 25,000 rupees for imported original goods, 18,000 rupees was much more appealing.

SUR-NEC also used Japanese technology, so quality was definitely guaranteed.

Thus, under this strange psychology, Ron's hybrid product, which he originally expected to have a mediocre response, surprisingly sold out quickly.

He had even hoped that NEC would abandon this production line, allowing Sule Electric to take it for free.

Now, however, Xiao Tian was jumping up and down excitedly, shouting “Banzai!” repeatedly!

What could Ron do? Since the market had been explored, of course, he had to pursue the victory.

The money earned from joint venture color TVs had to be shared with others, so it was better to earn it himself.

He directly placed a super order for twenty color TV production lines with Dongda, to be delivered in batches, including both 14-inch and 18-inch lines.

Mumbai would be the first to start production, with Gujarat, Uttar Pradesh, and Tamil Nadu expected to have them installed successively within a year.

He wasn't the only one preparing for a big push; Xiao Tian was too.

“Mr. Sur!”

“Congratulations, Mr. Xiao Tian,” Ron said with a smile.

“You're back! Quick! The workshop has stopped production; you need to make a decision immediately.”

“What's going on? Didn't I tell them to produce at full capacity?”

“No parts. All the picture tubes are used up,” Xiao Tian said anxiously.

“That's your problem. I remember you were responsible for communicating about imported parts.”

“You haven't paid for the last batch, and this time we need more, twenty thousand units!”

“Didn't I pay the previous deposit?” Ron asked in surprise.

“That was just a deposit! A deposit is not the full payment!” Xiao Tian stomped his foot in anger.

“Don't rush, let me slowly mislead you—no, let me slowly explain,” Ron signaled him to calm down.