I'm a Master in India

“Ron Suhr! Ron Suhr, who doesn't despise the poor!”

As Anand solemnly announced, the people gathered here cheered, applauded, and shouted.

“Thank you... Hello.” Ron greeted the crowd with some embarrassment. Was this really a good way to introduce him?

Before he could recover from the cheers, the girl with the garland walked over, encouraged by the crowd, both nervous and excited.

Ron smiled and lowered his head as the garland, carrying the scent of grass and wood, was placed around his neck.

Louder screams and laughter erupted as people were genuinely happy. This high-caste man hadn't rejected their kindness; he allowed them to touch him.

This was unimaginable for people who lived in the slums year-round; no one knew the shock of it.

“Everyone here thanks you, Ron.” Anand stood beside him, both proud and happy.

Ron saw many familiar faces: Vinod, Sanjay, Rajakannu... and their families and children.

The guides working under his company were mostly from here, close to a hundred people.

Besides them, the rickshaw pullers, taxi drivers, and vendors also gathered around Ron's company, hoping to attract foreign tourists.

Unknowingly, the slum residents who depended on Ron for a living already exceeded several hundred. Counting their families behind them, that number would be multiplied several times.

“You gave us commissions, Ron. Do you know what that means?” Anand said gratefully, “It means that many of us are earning much more than construction workers here.

Maybe ten thousand rupees. Ten thousand rupees in the slums is unimaginable. A lot of the funding for this temporary school came from this money.

So the head of the construction site allowed us to hold a celebratory lunch here because their children will also be attending the school.”

“It’s what you deserve.” Besides this, Ron didn’t know what else to say.

“Listen to this,” Anand said to the crowd. “We’ve worked in Mumbai for so many years, and no employer has ever said anything like this to us.”

The crowd shouted again, each person with a genuine smile on their face. They were happy, feeling respected and recognized, which was unparalleled.

“Alright, I think it’s time to start lunch. My stomach has been rumbling.” Ron slightly changed the subject.

The meager wages he gave them, not to mention a formal contract, didn't even qualify as outsourcing; they were just temporary workers who could be discarded at any time.

Their sincere, grateful, and ingratiating smiles repeatedly tormented Ron's heart.

“That’s right, let the lunch begin!” Anand waved his hands, and the crowd began to bustle about.

Ron and Mary were invited to the center, where a group of women divided the food onto plates, which were actually banana leaves.

There was saffron rice, potato stir-fried with pineapple, minced lamb curry with peas, vegetable-filled fried cakes, and many other strange and exotic foods.

A row of kerosene stoves was placed nearby, with other dishes still being cooked in the stoves. Everyone washed their hands in buckets and began to feast.

“How does it taste?” Ron asked Mary.

“It’s great! The curry and chili seasoning are even more delicious than the restaurants in the city!”

She was the only woman in Ron's group; the other Indian women, according to custom, had their own table five meters away.

During the meal, several young women came over to clear away the used banana leaves and then placed small plates of panna cotta dessert.

They kept staring at Mary, staring intently and fascinated.

“Her legs are too thin,” one said in Hindi, “You can see it through her pants.”

“And her feet are too big,” said another.

“But her hair is very soft, a beautiful red,” a third commented.

“Ladies, be careful,” Ron laughed. “Although my friend is a foreigner, she understands Hindi and can even speak a few sentences.”

The women were shocked and skeptical, chatting with each other incessantly. One of them bent down, stared at Mary, and asked loudly if she could speak Hindi.

“My legs may be too thin, and my feet may be too big,” Mary replied in fluent Hindi, “But my hearing is fine.”

The women screamed with joy, surrounding her and laughing happily. A foreigner who could speak Hindi would make her very popular with the locals.

They pleaded with her to join the women's table, and then they all crowded around her, asking questions. Everyone, women and young girls alike, liked her very much.

On this side, Ron and Anand began to discuss the reception of the upcoming British student tour group.

“We need a bus,” Anand suggested.

“I know a car dealer who has one, and I can rent it at the cheapest price.” Adi, who drives a taxi, immediately raised his hand.

“Very good, and the attractions. They are art school students; you know, those temples and cave statues will interest them,” Ron reminded them.

“No problem,” Anand said confidently, “I’m familiar with all the attractions around Mumbai, but maybe we can make some extra money on the tickets.”

“I’ll think of a way. I know a few officials from the tourism bureau.” Ron would take care of this matter.

India's scenic spot tickets implement a dual-track system. Taking the Elephanta Caves as an example, it only costs locals 20 rupees to visit, but foreigners have to pay 750 rupees for a ticket.

The difference is dozens of times, and the Indian government is short of money, so it is blatantly plundering foreigners' wallets.

However, Ron could use some connections to get these tickets at local prices. With this one move, he could earn nearly 20,000 rupees more per attraction.

With so many people sitting together, they quickly finalized all the arrangements for the tour group's food, clothing, housing, and transportation.

After lunch, Ron and Mary didn't go down immediately. It was rare to observe Mumbai from this angle, and they both leaned against the window sill, quietly staring into the distance in a daze.

Below, the vast slums stretched from the construction site to the sea. The narrow alleys were obscured by the uneven eaves of the huts, with only partial views, looking like tunnels.

Wisps of smoke rose, drifting intermittently in the slow sea breeze, and finally dissipated over the sparsely scattered fishing boats on the muddy beach.

On the other side, the high-rise buildings were bright and beautiful, and Ron could even see sky gardens. Some buildings had palm trees and climbing plants planted on the top floor, and wealthy people's servants were tending to the flowers and plants.

“The scenery here is great.” Mary murmured, looking into the distance.

“Does it remind you of anything? Home or hometown?” Ron also looked into the distance.

“Home?” Mary's eyes were a little dim. “I don’t know, I can’t remember.”

“I didn’t mean to pry, but can we talk about it?”

Her chest heaved a few times, wanting to speak, but Anand's shout interrupted them.

“Ron, Miss Mary! The first-class cabin is here, we should go down.”

Few outsiders came to Sky Village, and Ron and the others couldn't stay for long.

After the group came down, Ron originally planned to say goodbye and leave with Mary, but Anand gave him a package.

“This is from Taiji Bai to you. He is very grateful for your care for the people in the slums.”

Ron opened the package, which contained a lot of medicine, the kind that was not cheap on the market, as well as bandages and a set of surgical tools.

“Taiji heard that you are a doctor and specially prepared this for you. Don’t worry, these things don’t cost money.” Anand winked at him.

“Doesn’t cost money?”

“Yes, you’ll know later.”

“Okay, remember to recruit some people in the next two days; the tour group is coming soon.”

“No problem, Ron, we have plenty of manpower!” Anand had an entire slum of manpower behind him.

PS: Brothers, four updates tomorrow! Charge!