I'm a Master in India

October in Mumbai is already quite cool for those accustomed to the city's life, at least no longer as unbearably hot as it was two months ago.

The number of foreigners visibly coming here is increasing. Since mid-September, Ron's company has been in a state of frenzy.

He spends most of his time inspecting the Fort area office, train station, and airport, and visits Leopold Cafe less and less.

Dhiraj and Viraj tease him for being so obsessed with the almighty rupee that he ignores the beautiful girls in the bar.

Ron is indeed very busy, especially today, with almost all of the company's core members mobilized.

"Anand, is the vehicle arrangement ready? We should depart."

"No problem, ready to go anytime. If you ask me, a twenty-person bus would be enough; this one is too big."

"Hey, these British students are pampered. You can't expect them to be like Indians, squeezing thirty people into a van."

"OK, let's hope the old man Smith's wealth has been passed on to them." Anand licked his lips.

"Sanjay, put two bundles of purified water on the bus. It's bottled purified water bought from the mall, don't bring a water bucket up there!"

Ron was busy early in the morning. His subordinates are good at their jobs, but their horizons are too narrow.

Many things require Ron to supervise personally, otherwise, they are guaranteed to come up with all sorts of bizarre operations with Indian characteristics.

Around nine o'clock, the bus, fully loaded with 40 people, departed from the Fort area and headed towards the suburban airport.

"Have you ever thought about renting an apartment nearby, or buying one directly? I think with your income, it's not a problem."

After sitting down on the bus, Ron asked Anand. The slum trip from the previous two days lingered in his mind.

"It's very good there, everyone helps each other. We are like family, very safe."

"But you don't live there, you built your own house on the outskirts. I mean—"

"I understand," Anand replied with a smile, "I moved out because I needed to make room for others. There are many people waiting in line to enter the slum.

Ron, slum housing is very tight. You have to queue to move in, and it costs money. There are still millions of people in Mumbai living on the sidewalks."

"Like Raja Kannu?" Ron thought of the thin man who didn't hesitate to switch jobs to this side so that his wife could move into the slum before giving birth.

"Yes, the dream of sidewalk residents is to move into the slum." Anand still had a smile on his face when he said this.

It was dirty, messy, and smelly, but many of his relatives and friends were there. The slum was like his home.

Well, Ron could understand. Family affection is also a very important bond in India.

When they arrived at the airport, the sun overhead had already begun to show its power.

Because they had already made arrangements, Ron's bus drove directly to the roadside at the exit.

Their timing was perfect; the flight from London was landing under the command of the tower.

Ron entered the airport first. The reception area, which had been renovated for more than a month, was basically completed. Consistent with the style of the train station, it was also an eye-catching presence at the airport.

He was instructing the receptionist here on some precautions when the airport broadcast already reminded passengers of a certain flight to disembark.

Ron waved his hand, and Anand cleverly had two people unfurl a huge banner. Their pick-up sign was more impressive than everyone else's, visible from a mile away.

Soon, a group of youthful foreign students, dragging their luggage, headed straight this way under the leadership of a middle-aged man.

"Are you Mr. Wilson?" Ron took the initiative to greet them.

"Ron . Sur?" The middle-aged man at the head shook his hand.

"That's me." Ron handed over a business card.

"Oh, you're younger than I imagined."

"Mr. Smith also said that."

"He spoke highly of you. I look forward to the next few days in Mumbai."

"Please rest assured, you will have an unparalleled experience."

"Thank you." Wilson turned his head and greeted, "Okay, students, next we will go to the hotel arranged by this gentleman. Take a shower, and then have a good taste of Indian cuisine."

The students were chattering, curiously looking around since they got off the plane.

Many girls had been covering their mouths and noses since they got off the plane.

Mumbai was too smelly, which was their first impression of the place.

This was not surprising. Ron had also gagged for a long time when he first lived here.

There was the fishy and salty smell of the sea in the air, and the cold metallic smell of machines. Mixed in with it was the odor emitted by the activities, sleeping, and excrement of sixty million animals, mostly people and rats.

It's normal for such a place to be a bit smelly, but after a few days, everyone will get used to it.

"God, isn't Mumbai the capital of India? Why does it smell so bad?" one student complained.

"Uh, classmate, Mumbai is not the capital of India, Delhi is. But this smell can't be said to be smelly, because this city has ten thousand restaurants, five thousand temples, shrines, churches, mosques, and a hundred markets selling perfumes, spices, incense, and fresh flowers. Their smells are mixed together, which will produce a wonderful chemical reaction."

Ron began to use flowery language, because first impressions were very important. If they lost interest in Mumbai early on, how would they spend money later?

"There are five thousand temples here?" Sure enough, these art students were attracted.

"Of course, India is a religiously diverse country. If you are interested, I will take you on a tour later. But now, let's get on the bus first. It's very hot here, and I think you don't mind going to the hotel for a shower."

This group of energetic and youthful students followed Ron to the bus at the door.

Anand followed behind with a smile that almost split his face. He had just counted, there were thirty fat sheep carrying pounds.

Even walking on the road, these students were restless, "Isn't it also a religious custom for Indians not to eat beef? What about pork?"

"Well, since you are interested, I will briefly introduce it." Ron said as he walked, "India now has a population of over 900 million, which is the official statistic, but in reality, it may exceed 1 billion.

Among these people, 83% believe in Hinduism, 11% believe in Islam, 2.6% are Catholic, and 1.9% are Sikh. The rest include Buddhism, Jainism, and Zoroastrianism, whose followers are less than 1%.

As you know, Hinduism regards cows as sacred and absolutely prohibits eating them. Because there are so many Hindus, many foreigners think that Indians don't eat beef, but that's not the case."

"What about pork?" one student asked.

"Basically, all Indians don't eat it."

"Why?" Everyone asked curiously.

"Both Hinduism and Islam believe that pigs come from unclean places and are impure animals. And these two religions account for more than 94% of the Indian population, so the Indians you see basically don't eat pork."

"Yo ~" The students suddenly understood and exclaimed in unison.

The scenes seen on the bus next made them exclaim even more. The endless slums like brown sand dunes made Mumbai look even more chaotic than Gotham.

Everywhere there was a contrast between familiar things and bizarre oddities. A bullock cart stopped in front of a traffic light, next to a stylish sports car.

A man squatted behind an inconspicuous satellite dish urinating, while someone was unloading goods from an old wooden ox cart with a crane.

Too contradictory. This group of foreign students from the civilized world was speechless at the scenes before them.

"That's so fucking cool! There are such places in the world." A male student couldn't help but sigh, expressing the true feelings in everyone's heart.