I'm a Master in India

The travel agency matter is still in the planning stages for now. Hardhkan needs to take action regarding many procedures and qualifications for handling visas and passports.

Although the Indian government lifted investment restrictions in most areas last year, the licensing system still exists in some sensitive industries.

Hardhkan, as a gangster, cannot obtain a license, but Ron can.

This is an opportunity for him to use Hardhkan's connections and build relationships with officials in public institutions.

He is gradually enriching his network, from the police, customs, airlines, and banks to public institutions responsible for people's livelihoods.

When your business grows large enough, you must deal with them and inevitably come into contact with them. There are no shortcuts.

This is India, a country where both the people and the government are keenly aware of corruption.

While waiting for Hardhkan and Mrs. Elizabeth to reach an agreement, Ron decided to visit Anand first.

He rested for two days and was generally fine. Coincidentally, today is Thursday, and Ron was already planning to go to the slum, so he went along the way.

"Good morning, Ron Baba," Anand greeted him happily, squinting his one large and one small eye, still swollen.

"You should apply hot water to your eyes. It will make your already ugly face look a little more pleasing," Ron joked with him.

"Yaar, that's right," Anand's wife, Freda, shrieked with laughter. "His nostrils are also different sizes, and the snoring at night is terrifying, just like a bull sleeping next to me!"

"Old Sarabi has a superior treatment for snoring," Vinod commented with his arms crossed. "She will take a very sharp bamboo stick, about as long as my finger, and insert it into your nose. Then you won't snore anymore, fixed once and for all!"

"That method doesn't sound very friendly," Ron shrugged with a strange expression. Without guessing, he knew this was a local Indian method.

He didn't know if it worked, but it sounded scary enough. Unbelievable things always happen in this magical land.

The group chatted and laughed, and soon arrived at a small house prepared for him in advance. Then Ron was shocked by the scene there.

At the entrance of the small house, there was a long line of people squatting on the ground, at least thirty people in a long queue, stretching along the entire alley until the first turn.

"What happened?" It wasn't Ron's first time here for treatment, but usually there were only twenty or so people at most, far from seeing the end of the line like today.

"Fire," Anand's expression was a little sad.

"Yesterday's incident," Vinod added, "Fortunately, the fire was extinguished in time."

"But a baby still died. There was too much smoke. When they found him, his mouth and nostrils were blocked, and he couldn't be saved," Freda's eyes were red.

The most feared thing in the slums is fire. There is no water supply system here, and the rainy season has passed. Reed mats, coconut ropes, plastic sheets, wooden boards, and bamboo poles, once these things are ignited, they will get out of control.

Anand said that the fire yesterday was downwind, near the edge of the slum, which was fortunate. But the fire still destroyed dozens of huts. They tore down all the huts near the fire before controlling the fire.

"So many people are injured, why didn't you call the police or send them to the hospital? If there was no other way, you should have notified me earlier!" Ron couldn't understand at all. With so many injured people, they were still able to chat and laugh.

"It's useless, Ron, this is the slum," Anand smiled sadly. "The government has always wanted to tear this place down. The police won't care, and there are no available slots in the hospital."

"We've always been like this, yaar. The loss this time is small. Look, everyone isn't that sad," Vinod nudged his shoulder.

The patients waiting here showed smiles when they saw Ron coming. They greeted him with smiles, just like before.

"Doctor... Doctor..." The crowd whispered, with joy of being saved on their faces.

Ron felt complicated. He squeezed out a smile and greeted them.

Just yesterday, he was sitting in a high-end private club with Hardhkan, discussing big business, with Bollywood stars, political figures, and Mumbai's most famous blind singer.

"Let's go!" Anand grabbed Ron's shoulder and moved forward. "By the way, do you want to 'pie tiao' first? It's morning now, and you just woke up."

"What?" Ron was a little confused.

"'Pie tiao' means going to the toilet. Let me teach you how we 'pie tiao' on that long concrete breakwater, 'pie' into the sea. Every morning, young men and boys 'pie tiao' there, 'pie tiao', understand?

Just squat down with your butt facing the sea. Then take a shower, clean up, and have a happy breakfast. Then you can easily treat your patients, everything is done."

"No, I've already 'pie'd'. Let's see the patients first, the patients are important," Ron stopped him. The idea of piling up things against the sea was a little too much to handle.

They walked along the line towards the other end. The crowd was old and young, male and female. Their faces had cuts, bruises, and swelling. Their hands were charred, blistered, and bleeding. Some people's arms were in slings, and some people's legs were in splints.

It was obvious that some emergency treatment had been done. Ron guessed it was Rahad and Sayem who did it. These two young men had been following him and learning for some time.

Every Thursday when he came here, they helped him with odd jobs. Ron would also teach them the names of various medicines, the main symptoms they address, and the dosage, these basic knowledge.

It couldn't be called proficiency, but it was enough for the slums. Rahad and Sayem would replace him in the future and practice medicine in the slums.

Entering the consultation hut, Ron glanced into the distance. The line was even longer than he imagined. Extending to the next alley, extending further and further.

"We're going to be busy. They're all waiting," he sighed.

"It doesn't matter, let them wait, Ron," Anand waved his head, not feeling anything urgent. "They've been waiting for more than an hour. If you weren't here, they would still be waiting, but it would be an empty wait. An empty wait is even more heartbreaking, isn't it? Now these people are not waiting in vain, they are waiting for you. You are something real, Ron. Sur!"

"Okay, but we have to get busy," Ron put down the first aid kit and began preparing things non-stop.

The two boys, Rahad and Sayem, had already organized the bandages, sutures, tweezers, and syringes for him. They looked at Ron quietly and admiringly.

Not just them, but also the children outside, with the kind of eyes as if they were seeing a Bollywood movie hero.

Indeed, Ron had received formal first aid training in his previous life, covering cuts, burns, sprains, fractures, and various diagnostic methods and emergency treatment measures.

Later, he also learned CPR, pulling several drug addicts out of the clutches of death in Mumbai. But he was not a doctor after all, at best he was a barefoot doctor in the slums.

However, the people here trusted him, completely and unconditionally. To repay this trust, Ron devoted himself wholeheartedly to saving people.

The patients reported their names one by one, smiling. Ron and the two assistants did their best to treat their wounds one by one. They were busy with this all morning.

Someone sent a tin box during this period, which contained various foods, covered with a lid to prevent rats from stealing food. Someone sent fruit, fresh and without any blemishes.

When the line gradually dispersed, Taj Ali came over with people.

Seeing him, Ron thought of the things he had discussed with Hardhkan yesterday. Perhaps his future travel agency would need to rely on Taj Ali's power.

This slum has more than 20,000 people. Taj Ali also knows the bosses of several surrounding slums, which is tens of thousands more people.

So much labor, a large part of whom want to work in the Persian Gulf region, just like his eldest son Farooq.

The wages there are very high, several times higher than in India, and most of the men in the slums are envious.

Now he has this way to send people abroad, and coincidentally, the people in the slums trust him very much. Look, what a good source of customers, he has no reason not to do this business.

"Ron, this might be useful to you," Taj Ali had someone hand over a cloth bag.

Opening the cloth bag, Ron saw a pile of injections and plastic bottles, filled with morphine hydrochloride injection, penicillin, and antibiotics for treating staphylococcus and streptococcus infections. They were all new and had labels on them.

Ron was a little surprised. Many of the medicines inside were very difficult to get, and they couldn't be bought in outside pharmacies.

"Where did these things come from?" He put away the things, this stuff was very valuable.

"The black market for medicines. If you're interested, I'll have someone take you there later," Taj Ali was very satisfied with Ron's performance.

The black market for medicines? This didn't seem to be the same place as the medicine street he went to last time.

Ron suddenly thought of Luca, who had been missing for nearly two months. He must be very interested in the black market for medicines.

Speaking of which, the slum is really a treasure. Providing labor, smuggling, running a black market, everything is possible.