I am a master in India

Chapter 1 Magical Country

Puff! Hiss!
The sharp voice gradually lengthened, and Ron's distorted face slowly relaxed.

Damn, this feeling of relaxation is really a love-hate thing.

Squatting is a happy thing, but if it happens too frequently it becomes painful.

It had been three days, and Ron had no idea how many times he had been in and out of the bathroom.

This is all because of the cup of holy water that the old servant Abhi asked for, which was sent all the way from Varanasi to Mumbai.

Yes, holy water, pure holy water from the Ganges.

God, Ron would never gamble his life on the sanctity of the Ganges water.

That was all done by my unlucky predecessor!
Thanks to him, after drinking a cup of Ganges water, a young soul from China descended to India in 1992.

As for the original Ron, he had followed the Ganges to meet Lord Shiva.

He left peacefully, but it was Ron who suffered now.

For three whole days, the frustration of his sphincter losing control made it impossible for him to even muster the strength to raise Hong Wen.

He wanted to curse the insane Abby countless times, but considering that the other party's ashes were placed in the corner of the room, Ron sighed again.

The old servant Abhi also went to see Lord Shiva, and he and Ron shared the pot of holy water.

As a devout Hindu, old Abhi even rinsed the kettle containing holy water with clean water and drank it without leaving a drop.

The result was that Ron jumped for three days and Abby jumped to heaven.

After confirming that there was really no food in his stomach, Ron subconsciously stretched out his left hand and scooped water from the bucket beside him.

But just as he was halfway in the air, he shook his hands away angrily. What a damn muscle memory.

He had already suffered a loss once, the day he just woke up.

There is no need to go into details. Ron only remembered that the water flowed down his buttocks and finally made both legs wet.

The first thing he did after that was to go to the market outside and buy some toilet paper.

Thanks to the papermaking technology of his ancestors, he benefited from it even though he was in India.

After cleaning himself up, Ron rubbed his numb legs and moved to the sink.

Fortunately, the handsome young face in the mirror brought some comfort to his lonely soul.

With white skin and gray eyes, he is obviously a high caste, and a high caste inherited from the descendants of Aryans.

This is indeed the case. Ron Sur is originally from Uttar Pradesh, but only came to Mumbai, Maharashtra with his parents last year.

Sur, in Hindi, means servant of the sun.

In ancient India, only Brahmins were qualified to claim to serve God.

If he was a short, dark-skinned Dravidian, then even if he was a high caste, Ron would still think it would be better for him to follow Abhi to heaven.

Not all high castes have white skin, they are divided into north and south.

After washing his face, Ron packed up and prepared to go out.

He was going to the train station to pick someone up today, old Abby's youngest daughter, Nia.

After learning that her father had passed away and Ron had no one else around him, the sixteen-year-old Nia bravely boarded a train heading south.

Her family has been servants for generations, and their duty is to take care of Ron's family.

Now that Ron's parents have died in a religious conflict and old Abby is gone, it is Nia's responsibility to take care of Ron.

Even though the surname Sur has long since declined into obscurity, a Brahmin is still a Brahmin.

The caste system, which has existed for more than 1992 years, remained deeply rooted in the Indian subcontinent as of .

Ron hadn't seen Nia for more than a year, and now he could hardly remember what she looked like.

After counting his meager savings, Ron took a few tickets and prepared to go out.

But just as he took a step, he touched his stomach worriedly.

He had no confidence in his sphincter, so he went back to the bathroom.

He pulled out a piece of toilet paper, crumpled it, and measured the size.

Well, that's about it, Ron stuffed it behind his butt.

That's all right now. As long as I don't transform into a jet warrior, there won't be any problem.

Ron lives in the Grant community in southwest Mumbai, not far from the coastline.

Although it is only March, the weather is already as hot as summer in China.

In addition to the fishy and salty smell of the sea breeze, there are also various mixed smells in the rolling heat wave.

The first time he exposed himself to the Bombay air, Ron retched for a full five minutes.

As expected of Ah San, this taste is very authentic~
Ron walked along the alley, carefully avoiding the black puddles and stepping over a pile of unknown filth, and then turned to the market outside.

It is more lively here, with bustling crowds and various vendors stretching for a long way along a dirt road.

Most people wore brown or white robes, some wore turbans, and some wore white hats. The only bright color was the women's saris.

Also, almost everyone is barefoot and likes to put things on their heads.

Ron was first attracted by the densely packed stalls on both sides of the market, which were almost the source of all the noise.

The coconut seller was chopping the shells with a rusty machete, while the hand-cranked juicer at the sugarcane stall was making a clanging sound.

A dark-skinned man carrying yogurt on a shoulder pole walked and shouted, while the smoke from the milk tea stall filled the entire street.

The sounds of quarrels, the sound of the snake charmer's flute, the play of naughty children, the shouting of the shop owner chasing the monkey, and the slow mooing of the old cow.

It's too noisy! It's too noisy!
But it was in the Ganges, after all, this was India. Ignoring the chaotic calls around him, Ron walked straight to a milk tea stall.

"Ganesh, old rules!"

A 20-paise coin was thrown steadily into the clay pot on the table.

"Nurse, tear it through!" The brown man behind the table greeted him with a smile on his face.

The next step was to scoop milk, boil black tea, and add sugar. The whole process took less than two minutes, and the warm milk tea in the ceramic cup was handed to Ron.

I took a sip and it was so sweet!

This taste is definitely a British legacy, and the three guys have learned it perfectly.

But just a cup of milk tea cannot be considered breakfast.

Ron followed the same procedure and bought a pancake from the pancake stand nearby.

This thing is thin and crispy. In Hindi, it is called "tandoori".

Ron declined the curry sauce offered by the stall owner and drank milk tea with scones, which was his breakfast for the day.

He refused all other fried foods and meat dishes.

The buff given to him by the cup of Ganges water will last for at least a week.

The milk tea and scones cost him 70 paise, less than 1 rupee.

100 paise equals 1 rupee, while 1 dollar equals approximately 18 rupees.

This is the price in India, incredibly cheap.

Of course, this does not mean that Ron is not short of money. On the contrary, he only has 60 rupees left, which is not even enough to pay the rent for next month.

Although the apartment he lived in was old and dilapidated, the landlord would not ask for a penny less in rent of 200 rupees per month.

This isn’t a good start, Ron thought nonsensically as he drank his milk tea.

"Ron, where are you going for a walk today? I'll give you a ride!"

A chubby Indian man came over on a tricycle with a smile on his face.

Ron ignored him and walked towards the bus stop not far away.

"Really? This time, I'll definitely give you the cheapest price. It's so cheap that no one in their right mind would dare to take it!"

"Anand, I will never trust you again! Last time, you charged me 2 rupees for a distance of less than 20 kilometers!"

"But I gave you a free tour guide that day. I'm the best and most advanced tour guide in Mumbai!"

Anand's round, chubby face almost reached Ron's nose, and his smile was so bright and simple that it even made people feel uncomfortable.

"First of all, I'm Indian and have lived in Mumbai for over a year. Can you tell me why I need a tour guide?"

Anand muttered to himself at Ron's outstretched hands.

"You acted like an idiot the other day, not even knowing the way home. There's no reason not to slaughter a fat sheep like you."

"What did you say?!"

"Ron, you are so kind and tolerant! You have great compassion for poor people like me!" Anand shouted.

"Besides, as a Brahmin sahib, how can I walk on the same road that Dalits have walked on?"

Ron paused, "How do you know I'm a Brahmin?"

Anand shook his neck without saying anything, his pride evident in his expression, as if he had discovered a huge secret.

"Okay, Anand, you don't have to bother me anymore. I'm taking the bus today."

Ron waved and walked to the crooked bus stop sign. He was determined not to be fooled by the other party today.

"Bus? Are you sure you want to take a bus like this?"

Anand pointed at a double-decker bus coming lopsidedly towards them.

Yes, it was crooked. Perhaps because too many people were crammed onto one side of the door, the entire bus was tilting to one side.

Not only that, there was a large dent in the roof.

How could a place as high as a double-decker bus be concave like this? This was Ron's first reaction.

However, the bus did not stop. It just slowed down and drove away with a door full of arms, heads and butts.

"Haha, Ron, you know that buses in India don't stop, right?" Anand on the side laughed with glee.

"Okay," Ron sighed, "Anand, how much is it to Victoria Station?"

“100 rupees!”

“10 rupees!”

"Deal!" Anand clapped his hands excitedly.

What the hell. Ron's face was full of question marks.

"Hurry up and get on. The road to the train station is not easy." Anand patted the back seat of the rickshaw.

"I have a question. You know that 100 rupees is impossible, so why do you still offer such a price?"

"Ron, you don't understand the joy of bargaining. Besides, this is India, and being shrewd is a noble quality that everyone should learn!"

Ha, Ron laughed and shook his head.

India is such an amazing country.

(End of this chapter)