I'm a Master in India

With a deafening roar, Mumbai seemed to split in two, and people erupted into all-out brawls.

The procession, which had only recently dispersed, reassembled under the waving banners of the Shiv Sena.

Rafiq shouted loudly, a torrent of inflammatory curses pouring from his mouth. Someone handed him a microphone, and his angry voice echoed through the Colaba district.

Under his direction, the crowd gradually became agitated. Stones and pork flew first, followed by fists and feet, and conflict inevitably erupted.

Amol's police whistle was useless, and his subordinates didn't dare to directly intervene in the irrational crowd.

The unrest slowly spread outwards like ripples, drawing more and more people into its vortex.

Ron had never seen such a scene. Men and women in the streets grabbed anything they could use as a weapon and charged towards the temple and the Muslim crowds.

Sticks, coconuts, tea cups, roti... ordinary objects from the stalls were now all weapons.

That Rafiq had somehow obtained a gas cylinder. He pushed through the crowd, unscrewed the valve, lit a match, and then shoved the gas cylinder into the temple entrance.

"Boom!" An even louder explosion erupted beside their ears, and Ron and the others instinctively ducked, covering their heads. Crash! The glass of Leopold Cafe shattered.

When they looked up again, the temple gate had vanished, and one of the four minarets was gone.

The crowd outside erupted in cheers, Rafiq raising his fist like a triumphant general. The Muslims who had been hiding had looks of hatred in their eyes, as if they wanted to devour people.

"God, is Mumbai having a civil war?" Diran's voice trembled slightly.

Viraj remained silent, while Haila and Kavya were pale, their carefully styled hair disheveled by the shockwave of the explosion.

"We should go. If we don't leave, we might be in trouble too." Ron looked at the street with a hint of compassion in his eyes.

There, Muslim women were being dragged into the crowd, their clothes torn open, and men were swarming around them.

"Ron..." Kavya grabbed his arm tightly, her grip trembling.

"I'll take you back," Ron said, putting his arm around her shoulder and patting her gently.

"Take my motorcycle," Viraj said, tossing him a key.

"What about you?" Ron asked.

"I'll take Haila," Viraj said, winking at him.

Okay, even at a time like this, this guy is still thinking about picking up girls.

"Look!" Diran's frightened cry attracted the others' attention.

At the collapsed temple gate, a person completely engulfed in flames first got up, then fell down. He wanted to escape, but fell again, then got up and continued to flee.

Oil dripped from his body, and only two holes remained where his eyes had been, and the holes grew larger and larger. When he touched the stone wall, the white bones were immediately exposed.

More and more oil dripped from his body, dripping down like water, revealing the bones. After a few wobbly steps, the figure fell.

This time he couldn't get up, his arm stretched out into the air in a strange posture. The sizzling sound of oil was no different from the bubbling sound in the oil pot of a street vendor.

Ron felt a chill down his spine, Haila vomited directly, and Kavya's face was covered in tears.

"Let's go!" He grabbed Kavya's hand and rushed towards Viraj's motorcycle without looking back.

The people in this city had gone mad. The usually honest porters and coolies were now transformed into demons.

Mumbai, a city of madness.

Starting the motorcycle, Ron took Kavya south along Marine Drive, preparing to detour to the Fort area.

It was best not to go to crowded places at this time, and small streets and alleys were not the first choice. The wide Marine Drive was more reassuring.

The sky was ablaze with sea glow, burning like fire on the surface of the sea. Ron faced the sea breeze and rushed into the tunnel of light, the robe of sunset slipping from the city's shoulders.

Kavya held Ron's strong back tightly with both hands, her fingers unconsciously fidgeting up and down, like the constant surge of the sea, with its turbulent waves.

Under normal circumstances, this might have created a romantic atmosphere, but now the two had no time to think about anything else.

The scene at Leopold Cafe replayed in their minds over and over again. Kavya kept her eyes tightly closed and pressed her cheek against Ron's back, motionless.

Gradually, the sea breeze brushing her cheeks became gentle. Kavya opened her eyes, and the motorcycle was slowing down.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Can you drive a motorcycle?"

"What?"

"I have to stop. If things go wrong later, you can just drive the motorcycle away and leave me alone."

"Wait, what's going on?"

Ron didn't answer. He stopped the motorcycle, but the engine was still running. After handing the handlebars to Kavya, Ron walked to the side of the road not far away.

There, a group of people were surrounding another person, pouring gasoline on the person in the middle, a lot of gasoline. A bicycle lay crooked on the side of the road, and the freshly made bread in the basket was scattered all over the ground.

"Please, let me go! I have children, I have children!"

"When you set fire to the Raada tenement building, did you ever think about your children?" A roar came from the crowd.

"Dharmendra!" Ron shouted loudly, "What are you doing?"

The young man holding the gasoline can paused, turned his head, and when he saw Ron, he averted his gaze unnaturally, and then felt a little ashamed and annoyed.

"He's a Muslim!" Dharmendra shouted loudly, pointing at the middle-aged man.

"So what? Haven't you eaten the bread he makes? You pass by his stall every day, have you forgotten?"

"But they killed Hindus, a whole family!"

"Then go find the murderer, what does this have to do with Uncle Muharra?"

The crowd was silent, and Dharmendra lowered his head even more. Ron took the opportunity to step forward and snatched the match from his hand.

"Go home now, Taiji is waiting for you. You must have sneaked out, right?" Ron slapped him on the neck.

"I..." Dharmendra's momentum weakened even more.

"And you!" Ron glared at the others, "My foreign guests are worried and afraid, but you are helping the evildoers. Do you think you have too many rupees?"

Dharmendra was a resident of the Taiji Ali slum. He usually helped Ron run errands, booking taxis or buying tickets or something.

In short, he lived off Ron. He used to be a laid-off worker, but after getting this job, he had money to support his family of eight.

The other young people were similar. Although they were not employees of Ron's company, they usually received his favor to varying degrees.

Ron was already well-known in this area. Everyone knew that he was capable, knew important people, and was very generous to the people below.

Now that he was beaten and scolded like this, everyone unconsciously became a little sober and no longer had violence on their minds.

"Go away! The patrol police are arresting people all over the street!" After Ron threatened them a few words, the young people ran away in despair.

Sectarianism is really a scourge. Those young men who were so law-abiding in the past have now easily lost their minds.

"Uncle Muharra..." Ron looked at the trembling and crying middle-aged man again.

He was also an acquaintance, usually selling bread around Victoria Train Station. Whether it was Ron or Dharmendra and the others just now, they often bought bread from him to eat.

Their relationship was friendly, beyond ordinary friends. But sectarian conflict shattered everything...

"I still have children, I still have children..." Muharra cried bitterly, the gasoline on his body flowing along the road into the grass.

"No one will hurt your children. Go home and hide now, and don't open the door to anyone."

Muharra looked up at him, and after a long while, he nodded silently.

"Go quickly, it's getting dark." Ron took out 200 rupees from his wallet and handed it to him, then helped him up the bicycle and packed the bread scattered on the ground.

"Ron, you are a good person..." Muharra started crying again, even more sadly than before.

"I bought the bread." Ron waved goodbye to him.

Muharra rode away on his bicycle. He didn't dare to take the main road and could only take a detour through the wilderness to get home.

Ron looked at his back with a complicated expression. He actually hated sectarianism very much.

In fact, he hated Muslims even more in his heart, because he had seen a lot of news in his previous life.

But most ordinary people are innocent. It would have been fine if he hadn't seen it. But seeing it in person, he really couldn't remain indifferent.

Just half an hour ago, he saw what happened to a person engulfed in flames. What's more, he knew both sides of the conflict.

Kavya hadn't left, she was waiting not far behind him.

"Ron..." Her eyes were full of admiration.

"Fortunately, my identity as the boss is still useful." Ron also breathed a sigh of relief.

God knows if people blinded by religious hatred still have any reason. His actions just now were not without risk.

If it had been an unrelated passerby, Ron would definitely not have stopped.

The motorcycle started again, and before it was completely dark, the two finally entered Kavya's apartment room.

The first thing Ron did was pick up the phone and call Nia, telling her not to open the door until he got back.

This city had lost its order, and the police were useless. No, to be precise, they were even condoning it.

As far as he knew, there were many Hindus in the Indian police. Every time there was a conflict between the two sides, they were biased.

Even so, Ron still called his familiar police officers and asked them to take care of his territory.

It was okay for the two sides to fight, but don't smash his stores.

There was a noise and fire coming from downstairs. The two went to the window, and a small shop opened by a Muslim had been looted. They didn't stop there, but set fire to the shop before leaving.

Then the crazy crowd continued to the next place they had marked. Before the action, they had investigated which shops were opened by Muslims and which buildings were inhabited by Muslims.

Obviously, this was a premeditated action, and the riots were far from over.

"It's too dangerous outside, you can't leave." Kavya looked serious.

Uh... Ron didn't actually plan to leave. He was also afraid, what if someone mistook him for a Muslim and set him on fire?

Although his residence was less than three kilometers away, Ron was not prepared to take the risk.

He turned his head and looked at Kavya's apartment. There was only one bed, and the desk that took up the remaining space in the room automatically ruled out the option of sleeping on the floor.

What to do? At this moment, Ron actually thought that the broken desk was so beautiful and placed just right!

PS: Let's stop here for today. Later, I will update 10,000 words every day until the end of the month!