I'm a Master in India

Victoria Station was as busy as ever. Leon had never been to a train station in India; his previous travels had mainly been by plane.

The metal sky formed by the arched, wavy ceiling stretched dramatically into the distance, and the pigeons were the little angels of that metal sky.

They flew from one roost to another, flying very high, their shapes barely visible.

Below was a crowded, noisy throng of people, packed tightly within this magnificent train station, known for its detailed facade, towers, exterior decorations, and grand splendor.

Leon felt incredulous and extremely awkward. He couldn't believe that dirty, chaotic India had such an artistic building, but it was also awkward because it was predictably dirty and chaotic.

He had been at the Ron Company's reception desk inside the train station for almost an hour. Outside on the platform were people, luggage, bundles of goods, and all sorts of living and recently deceased livestock.

Yes, some people were leading sheep, some were holding dogs, all waiting for the train. Several chickens, probably suffocated, had been abandoned by their owners on the platform.

Between the two stationary trains, large groups of people milled about. The guy named Anand ran into the crowd. This was the fifth time Leon had seen him leave, and a few minutes later, he saw him return for the fifth time.

"Please, friend, can't you sit down?" Leon couldn't help but advise.

"Can't sit, sir," Anand shook his head.

"Then shall we get on the train?"

"Can't get on the train either, it's not time yet."

Leon helplessly looked at Ron, who was leisurely relaxing beside him. "What time is the ticket you got anyway?"

"That's not important. The timetable at an Indian train station is useless. You'll be at a great disadvantage if you look at that."

"But we've already waited for an hour. Can the train be delayed for so long?"

"It's almost here, it won't be long. Listen, listen carefully!" Ron cocked his ear.

There was a broadcast, probably in English. It sounded like the voice of an angry drunk, coming through many old cone-shaped loudspeakers, with a unique distortion effect.

Anand listened to the broadcast, his expression changing from worry to extreme pain.

"Now! Now! Sir! Quick! We have to be quick!"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. You just had me sitting here like a copper Buddha for almost an hour, and now suddenly it's so urgent?"

"Stop talking nonsense, buddy! This is an ordinary Indian train ticket. Come on, let me give you a taste of the real India!" Ron pulled him towards the platform.

"Yes, no time to build a Buddha, ask this saint for forgiveness!" Anand shouted, "You have to be prepared!"

"What?" Leon stumbled as he ran after them.

"He's here!" Ron suddenly laughed.

"Who's here?" Leon was now completely at a loss.

Whatever the broadcast said, it had stirred the crowd into action. They rushed towards the two parked trains, stuffing their luggage and themselves into the doorways and windows.

A man emerged from the noisy crowd and walked towards Ron and them. He was tall and burly, one of the tallest men Leon had ever seen in his life.

He was two meters tall, muscular, with a long, thick beard that hung down over his robust chest. He wore the uniform of a porter from Mumbai train station: a hat, shirt, and shorts made of yellow linen.

"Him!" Ron pointed to Leon beside him and said to the man, "Take him up."

The porter was experienced in dealing with foreigners, and he first extended his hands. Leon thought he wanted to shake hands, so he extended his hands as well.

As a result, he pushed Leon's hands away, his expression clearly conveying how much he disliked that gesture. Then he reached his hands under Leon's armpits, lifted him up, and placed him next to the luggage, so as not to block his way.

Leon weighed more than eighty kilograms, and the feeling of being lifted up so easily made him embarrassed and excited. He decided then and there that as long as it wasn't too embarrassing, he would cooperate obediently with this porter.

"Buddy, just watch," Ron laughed behind him.

"Damn it, you didn't tell me there would be such an arrangement," Leon blurted out in German in anger.

As he spoke, the big man took his backpack and placed it on top of his head, then waved his other thick arm.

Ron immediately pushed Leon behind him and grabbed the big man's yellow linen shirt.

"Here, grab this shirt."

"What?"

"Hold on tight, don't let go! Promise me solemnly that you will never let go of this shirt."

Seeing his unusually serious expression, Leon couldn't help but nod in agreement, and tightly grabbed the porter's shirt.

"Good, never let go!"

"Ron, make him say it word for word: I will never let go of this shirt," Anand urged from the side.

"Please, I said, I will never let go of this shirt, are you satisfied?" Leon did as he was told, speechless.

"Goodbye! Leon!" Ron stood on the spot, waving vigorously.

"We'll see you later too, sir!" Anand scurried into the crowd.

"What! Where are you going? Ron! Ron!"

"Okay! Let's go!" the porter roared in a low voice.

He turned and walked into the crowd, dragging Leon along. With each step he took, he raised his thick knees and kicked his feet outwards. The people in front automatically scattered, and those who didn't scatter were bumped to the side.

He shouted threats, insults, and curses all the way, clearing a path in the suffocating crowd. Each time his thick, powerful legs lifted and kicked forward, someone fell down, pushed aside.

The crowd was extremely noisy, the clamor like drumbeats on Leon's skin. People shouted, screamed, as if fleeing for their lives.

The loudspeakers overhead roared out incoherent, incomprehensible announcements. The sounds of horns, bells, and whistles wailed continuously.

Leon felt like he was being dragged by a bulldozer towards the train car. The car, like the others, was already saturated, the doorway blocked by a thick wall of people, a wall of legs, backs, and heads.

It looked impossible to get through, and Leon began to back down. But the porter roared, and he subconsciously tightened his grip on the shirt in his hand.

Relying on the porter's invincible, immensely powerful knees, Leon squeezed into the car. He continued to push forward, following the shirt in his hand, until he stopped in the middle of the car.

Leon guessed that the car was so packed that even the giant porter had to stop. He tightened his grip on the shirt in his hand, determined never to let go.

The noisy car was packed like a sardine can, and gradually Leon heard a voice.

"Sir! Sir! Sir!"

After distinguishing it for a while, Leon determined that it was the porter's call.

He let go of the shirt in his hand and looked around, only to find that the previously missing Anand was stretching out his body to occupy the entire bench.

It was a window seat, and Anand was now guarding the seat with his body. He wrapped his feet around the handrail on one side of the aisle, and his hands grabbed the handrail on the window side.

Six men had squeezed into this car, and they were each exerting all their strength and using crude methods to drive him away.

They pulled his hair, hit his body, kicked him, and slapped him. Surrounded, Anand had no power to fight back, but after his eyes met Leon's, he suddenly flashed a victorious smile.

"Quick! Come over!" he shouted.

Seeing this scene, Leon didn't know where the surge of blood came from, and he pushed the crowd away in uncontrollable anger.

He couldn't care less about gentlemanly manners, he couldn't stand by and watch this person get beaten. He had suffered for him to grab the seat.

Taking advantage of the crowd swaying, Anand immediately put his legs on the ground, and Leon tacitly sat down immediately.

The remaining space on the bench immediately triggered a new round of competition.

The porter threw the luggage at Leon's feet, his face, hair, and shirt soaked with sweat.

He glanced at Anand, then nodded towards the window, showing respect. Then, without looking back, he left.

Only then did Leon notice that Ron was standing outside the window of this car.

"How much did you pay to hire that guy?" he shouted to Ron.

"Seventy rupees!"

Seventy rupees, Leon couldn't believe it. That guy had charged into the car with him and his luggage, earning only about two dollars.

"That guy is not easy to hire," Anand beside him tidied his clothes and stood up, "His knees are very famous, many people are scrambling for him. I told him that you were a bit mentally abnormal, and he only then took the business."

"Mentally retarded! You told him I was mentally retarded?" Leon's entire expression collapsed.

No wonder that guy kept telling him to hold on tight to the porter's shirt, and the way the porter looked at him...

"No, not really," Anand frowned, thinking about what words to use, "I think 'silly' is more appropriate."

"Let's get this straight, you told him I was silly, and he therefore agreed to help us."

"That's right," Anand grinned, "But not just a little silly, you're also very, very, slow-witted..."

"Okay, I get it," Leon had already given up that stubbornness.

"I should go, sir," Anand said goodbye to him, then suddenly sucked in his round belly and slipped out of the window.

"Hey, buddy, are you okay?" Leon still remembered how he had just been beaten.

"It's okay, not even a scratch."

"Buddy, have a good trip to Delhi!" Ron laughed.

"Damn it, you surprised me too much!" Leon also laughed, he had a sense of escaping death.

"That's how ordinary carriages in India are, you need a very good guide to get on the train, like our Anand, isn't it?"

"I agree, well, thank you very much for your generosity!" Leon waved to the window, he still had the extra hundred rupees that Ron had given him for taxi fare in his pocket.

"Remember not to give up your seat to anyone!" Anand also waved goodbye to him.

After the train disappeared from sight, Anand's face fell, "Ron, we could have used our connections to get him into first class."

"You don't understand, only by letting him have a deeply memorable experience will he remember that we helped him. If it were first class, he would probably sleep all the way to Delhi and forget about it."

"So, I didn't get beaten for nothing?" Anand touched his face.

"Of course!" Ron laughed again, "Come with me to discuss a big deal in a couple of days."

"Where to?"

"To buy land! I want to be a landlord in Mumbai!" Ron waved his hand heroically, turned, and left.