I'm a Master in India

Chapter 279: Not So Expensive Democracy

Advani’s office was originally crowded, but after hearing Modi’s report, he immediately dismissed everyone.

“Mr. Sur, you’ve come at just the right time.” He looked very happy.

“I said I would help you at a critical moment.” Ron Sur waved his hand, and several large travel bags were placed at his feet.

“You are an eternal friend of the Indian People's Party!” Advani opened his arms.

“I am honored.” Ron Sur walked over and hugged him.

The most common Indian etiquette is the Anjali Mudra or forehead salute, which can handle most occasions.

Hugging, a slightly intimate gesture, is usually rarely seen.

In India, this represents the bond of allies, brothers, and friends, meaning their relationship has taken a step closer.

Now the Indian People's Party has opened its arms to Ron Sur, and those few bags of money have contributed greatly.

“Come quickly, our situation is excellent!” Advani beckoned.

Ron Sur walked over and found a large sand table in the middle of the office. According to the constituencies, the Gujarat map was divided into 182 patches.

Each constituency had small flags inserted: the lotus representing the Indian People's Party, the palm representing the Indian National Congress, and the bicycle representing the Socialist Party.

“According to preliminary public opinion polls, the Indian People's Party’s support rate is close to one-third.” Advani proudly pointed to the lotuses blooming everywhere on the map.

“An absolute leading advantage.” Ron Sur nodded.

“That’s right, as long as we win half of the constituencies, Gujarat will belong to the great Indian People's Party.”

“This will be a historic victory.”

“Yes, a historic, unprecedented, first for the Indian People's Party. However, the Indian National Congress is biting hard, and we cannot relax yet.” Advani pointed to several areas in the north of the map, “These swing districts are the key battlegrounds for both sides.”

Ron Sur leaned in for a look; those places were just north of Mundra, near Baba Sheep.

Without guessing, it was clear that these constituencies were economically backward, and people were more cautious about whom to vote for.

They hoped their votes could make some difference, such as solving local employment problems, or simply getting some freebies would also be good.

To put it bluntly, the villagers there were waiting to be bought. Whichever party gave more, they would choose, and ideology was not important at all.

“There will be an important speech there in a few days; you should come along then.”

“No problem.” Ron Sur, of course, would not miss such an opportunity to do a favor.

Adding icing to the cake is meaningless; only helping in times of need can show his value.

The ten million rupee he brought was the key for the Indian People's Party to win the swing constituencies.

So-called vote-buying, that also requires money, doesn't it?

Modi, as the party’s general secretary, personally decided the use of this money.

After about two or three days of preparation, Ron Sur followed them to several impoverished areas in northern Gujarat.

The roads there were very bad, bumpy and muddy. Sometimes the car would get stuck in the mud, and they would have to get out and push it together.

The roar of motorcycles occasionally came from the road, and behind them was a simple small shop selling snacks and cigarettes, with a sunshade supported by two wooden poles.

Not far away was a mosque, and through the trees, four green and white minarets could still be seen.

This place is called Bhuj, and you can feel its desolation at a glance, with mustard greens and wheat planted by farmers on both sides of the road.

There were almost no factories; the only industry that could be called such was brick kilns, whose conical chimneys could often be seen dotting the farmlands.

Larger towns did show signs of development, with new utility poles having black wires wrapped around them, not yet electrified.

Many walls in the town were also brick, but as soon as you turned into nearby villages, the road quickly became dirt, and the houses turned into shaky, dilapidated shacks made of mud and straw.

In such a place, buying democracy would not be cheap.

In rural India, the poorer people are, the stronger their greed, because they often face enticement from three or four different parties.

There are few opposition parties in Gujarat, but their swarm into the swing districts makes elections fierce and more expensive.

No wonder Advani was so enthusiastic to see Ron Sur; only a big businessman like him could afford this amount of money.

The large-scale political rally convened by the Indian People's Party this time was in Bhuj town, about 60 kilometers from the southern coastline.

When Ron Sur arrived at the rally site, it was morning, and the place was packed with people, roughly numbering over ten thousand, mostly men.

Fanatical supporters of the Indian People's Party wore orange clothes, waved flags, and shouted campaign slogans.

Local villagers stood in groups of three or five on the rooftops near the venue; the upcoming grand event was no less than an entertainment feast for them.

When Indian politicians go to the countryside for rallies, they inevitably make a big splash to make it known to everyone, the more luxurious the lineup, the better.

Advani did not enter discreetly in one car like Ron Sur; he had an entire motorcade.

The first six cars were police vehicles maintaining order, followed by imported luxury cars like Audi and BMW, and in the very middle was a large Mercedes truck.

This truck was decorated to resemble a traditional Hindu chariot, with garlands, flags, and sculptures representing deities.

Advani stood on the high platform of the truck, constantly waving to the surroundings, and every time he turned in a direction, a cheer erupted.

Mo Da Xian followed closely beside him, serving as a political consultant while also enjoying the applause of the people.

Ron Sur stared at that figure without blinking, a smile appearing on his lips.

Mo Da Xian was in exceptionally good spirits today, his face glowing and full of vigor; perhaps only politics could move him so much.

The motorcade slowly approached the stage, and the crowd surged towards it like a tide.

Advani, supported by Mo Da Xian, stepped onto the podium. He wore a bright yellow short jacket and a green scarf draped over his shoulders.

With his Hindi and highly inflammatory speech, he firmly captivated the audience for an hour.

He also severely criticized the Indian National Congress’s inaction in his speech, saying they were corrupt, condoned nepotism, used black money, and sold off state-owned resources at low prices.

Listening to it, Ron Sur felt something was wrong; was this not about himself?

“I was born to serve the poor. I did not, like the highly educated people of the Indian National Congress, turn a blind eye to the plight of Jhap. I brought what the people of Jhap wanted most: jobs!”

“Jobs! Jobs!” the supporters below shouted.

“I am delighted to announce to everyone that, through the efforts of our party, the famous patriotic enterprise Sur Electric will build a super-large industrial park in Gujarat!”

“Long live the great Indian People's Party!” The phalanx in front of the stage, holding yellow flags, wearing orange hats, and with lotus badges on their chests, vigorously waved their arms.

“This super-large industrial park can provide at least forty thousand jobs, which means forty thousand families will have their incomes guaranteed. This is a great victory!”

Another burst of cheers followed, and among the crowd, hundreds of Indian People's Party members, under Modi’s direction, freely distributed small yellow flags, hats, and badges to the surrounding public.

This is how the cheering phalanx came about; many people were brought by buses from nearby villages by the organizers, and some might even have received dozens of rupee as appearance fees.

“Today, it is my great honor to introduce to everyone, the founder and leader of Sur Electric, Mr. Ron Sur, who is also present and will explain to everyone.”

Amidst a roaring applause, Ron Sur, who had long been prepared, ascended the stage from the side.

The audience was very excited; they didn’t expect it to really be Sur Electric!

Everyone understood the principle that politicians’ words should be taken with a grain of salt.

Who knew the Indian People's Party was serious!

What do people in poor constituencies lack most? Is it those two kilograms of rice? Or those dozens of rupee?

Neither. They lack a secure job.

If everyone had an income—no! As long as most people have an income, it can revitalize the economy of this region.

Then there will no longer be poor constituencies; this is a good fundamental solution.

“Gujarat is a very vibrant place, and I feel your enthusiasm.” Ron Sur, holding the microphone, had barely spoken two sentences when flags began to wave below.

Indeed, Mo Da Xian was moving through the crowd, inciting people to cheer.

His orange shirt was already soaked with sweat, and his big beard trembled slightly with his shouts.

To think that Mo Da Xian once had to scream for me, Ron Sur felt delighted.

This ten million rupee was well worth it; it is estimated that few people will enjoy such treatment in the future.

Ron Sur decided that after he went down, he would find the reporter who took this scene.

He would buy the film, develop a few prints, and then frame them in the exhibition room.

“As Mr. Advani said, Sur Electric has a grand plan in Gujarat.”

Ron Sur’s speech was not long; he briefly introduced Sur Electric’s future plans and the mining company to be opened near Mundra.

They would both provide a large number of jobs, especially the mining company, which was very close to Jhap, an hour’s motorcycle ride away.

Such a company opening on their doorstep had great appeal to the people below the stage; they wouldn't have to hitchhike thousands of miles to developed Ahmedabad.

This was good; who would want to leave their hometown?

Ron Sur's time on stage was short, but he received prolonged applause and cheers.

Advani took the opportunity to once again promote the various governing principles of the Indian People's Party.

“Economy. Gujarat,” how fitting to the theme.

Just by looking at the scene, it was clear that this speech would be effective.

Ron Sur stood backstage, looking around, silently estimating the expenses of such a large rally.

The motorcade, stage, imaging equipment, sunshades set up for local dignitaries, security personnel scattered throughout the venue holding bamboo sticks to maintain order.

And those who received appearance fees, the freely distributed various campaign materials—expenses were at least a million rupee.

This was just the overt spending; other costs like public opinion surveys, political consultants, street billboards, and TV advertisements all required money.

Indian elections are so unpretentious, relying entirely on parties throwing money. Whoever has more funds has a greater advantage.

Today's speech was very successful, as could be seen from the smile on Mo Da Xian's face.

“Mr. Sur, the Jhap constituency has embraced our party.”

“Congratulations.” Ron Sur said with a smile.

“This is a victory for all of us.”

“Indeed, a victory for all of us.”

See, Indian democracy is actually not expensive, and its technical content is low.