I am a master in India

Chapter 167 The Illusory City
Early August in Mumbai is the height of the rainy season, but here we are, under the cover of dark gray clouds, lightning flashes, but no rain.

The clouds grew thicker and thicker, sweeping across the sky until they filled the entire heavens.

There were few pedestrians on the street, and most shops had their doors and windows tightly shut, waiting for the heavy rain to arrive.

Suddenly, the sound of gongs and drums came from the end of the street, and the shop owners and employees all craned their necks to look.

A large, complex procession was slowly moving in this direction.

Leading the way was a truck, with three burly men standing at the front, waving flags and exuding an imposing aura.

They were surrounded by people of all ages, numbering in the hundreds. Some wore headscarves of the same color, while others waved flags emblazoned with sun symbols.

The crowd thronged, chanting various slogans. The procession crossed the center of the street, heading straight for the Kimball district to the east.

There's going to be a spectacle! Pedestrians on the street, as well as shop owners and employees, all flocked to the street to watch the procession in the distance.

In Mumbai, trouble is called "raphda," which also means extramarital affair or romantic entanglement.

Wherever there is La Fuda, there are curious onlookers. A large crowd gathers together, eager to get close and watch the spectacle without blinking, afraid of missing a single second.

Among the onlookers were Hindus who, summoned by the chants of "Sun God Surya," even joined the procession.

In a place like Mumbai, there are at least a dozen raphda attacks every day, and the main force behind raphda attacks is street thugs.

For example, the leader of the group, the one standing at the front of the car waving the flag, Lamoir, was also a hoodlum from some slum.

Under his leadership, the group soon stopped in front of a small factory in the Kimball district.

Lamoir waved his hand, the drummer beat the drums wildly, and the crowd danced wildly in response.

Even worse, some people took advantage of the chaos to throw out firecrackers.

Boom! Crack! Fireworks ignited, like lightning in the dark clouds, illuminating the entire factory in a fiery red glow.

The air was thick with the smell of sulfur, the stench of open sewage pipes, and the smell of sweat from the crowds.

The only security guard at the factory gate watched the ever-growing queue with trepidation, completely unaware of what was going on.

But Lamoor didn't give him a chance to ask a question; he raised his arms and shouted, "Long live the great sun god Surya!"

The crowd joined in loudly.

"Long live the great Dr. Sur!"

The drummer beat the drums like a madman, and the flags danced wildly like mad snakes, drawing arcs in the dark, cloud-covered sky.

Amor jumped out of the car and pointed to the lonely factory.

"For the Sun God!"

He took the lead, kicking aside the stunned security guard and rushing towards the factory.

Behind him was a surging crowd, men, women, and children, their faces flushed with fervor as they rushed into the factory area.

Soon, the sounds of shattering glass, creaking wooden doors, and shouts from the crowd erupted all at once.

They stormed into the office, overturned desks and chairs, beat up anyone who blocked their way, and smashed everything in sight.

Some people even rushed into the workshop and vandalized it, scaring the workers into running away with their heads in their hands.

The warehouse area was the liveliest, with rows of brand-new electric fans being brought out, attracting a huge crowd.

Some dragged, some pulled, and everyone excitedly grabbed their electric fans and ran outside.

Those who were originally just watching from the sidelines were now getting restless, and spurred on by the smiling faces, one after another, people joined in.

This stuff is free! With such a great opportunity, why be polite?
If one of the three brothers takes the lead, the whole street will go crazy.

The situation became increasingly out of control, with people buying things for free everywhere.

The entire factory was destroyed, and the employees, terrified by the riots, all fled and disappeared.

Boom! A bright light burst forth from the clouds.

Splash! The rain started pouring down almost instantly.

The crowd scattered and the factory, which had just resembled a battlefield, instantly became completely quiet.

The clearance operation was as effective as that of the police.

In the swaying, distorted rain, the newly established Sunil Electric Factory looked like a ruin.

In the back seat of an imported car parked by the roadside, Ron stared in disbelief at everything.

He couldn't understand it, nor could he comprehend it.

"What on earth happened?" Ron asked, his face filled with disbelief.

"Boss, as you can see, Sunil Electric is finished," Ashish said gleefully from the side.

"Are you sure those aren't our people? Why are they targeting Sunil Appliances like that, like they've gone mad?"

"Boss, that's just how Indians are. We value relationships and loyalty. But if something bad happens, everyone gets very angry."

“But… I don’t even know them.” Ron frowned as he looked out at the rain, still unable to understand.

“You are their god,” Ashish said succinctly.

“This is insane,” Ron muttered to himself.

He realized for the first time how terrifying sectarian groups were; they were easily incited, prone to protests and demonstrations, and in their fanaticism, even fearless of death.

It is a sharp weapon that can hurt others, or it can hurt oneself.

Ron silently warned himself that he should be careful when using this method.

"Keep our people in check. Don't come here recently, and don't say anything carelessly, or you'll get into trouble."

The law doesn't punish everyone, especially in an abstract country like India. This matter will most likely be dropped, but Ron doesn't want to give anyone cause for gossip.

His invulnerability to be broken for the time being is very useful, especially at crucial moments.

“Yes, boss,” Ashish replied cautiously. Those people from earlier indeed had nothing to do with Suer Electric Appliances; they had become Ron's followers because of various reports.

The title of the sole incarnation of the sun god was very useful, especially since Ron had indeed done many good deeds.

However, it's not necessarily true that there's absolutely no connection.

For example, the big man who led the group, Amor, lived in the slums of Sur, in that illegal area.

Ron waved to signal the driver to start the car.

The black Taurus sedan slowly disappeared into the rain, with only its red taillights faintly visible through the mist.

The rain poured down, and the wind howled.

Under the low-hanging sky, the shadow of the factory's outline almost blended into the distant dark clouds.

Vroom! The roar of the engine pierced through the rain and mist.

A yellow and black taxi came to a difficult stop with a sharp screech of brakes.

Bania hurriedly opened the car door, without an umbrella, and rushed towards the factory in the pouring rain.

However, as soon as he entered the gate, he was stunned by the sight before him.

Abandoned fan boxes were scattered all over the ground, torn and crumpled, and then turned into a paste by the rain.

The warehouse door was wide open, and the inside was empty. The office doors and windows were broken, and the desks and chairs were overturned.

He trudged to the workshop, trembling, and was struck dumb at the door.

It's all over, it's all over!

Bania burst into tears in the rain, then collapsed to the ground, unable to get up.

Mumbai is a city of illusion.

The skyscrapers and prosperity you see are built on lies, theft, and exploitation.

...

Amor lives in the Sur slum; he has only recently moved in, yet he has secured the best spot.

His house had sturdy mud walls, even coated with cement on the outside, and was right next to the barbed wire fence of the legal district.

He lived with his family; both his brothers were married. Fortunately, the house was spacious enough that, after being divided into individual rooms, it could barely accommodate eight people.

Having just been caught in a downpour, Amor took a shower as soon as he got back. He was only wrapped in a towel, revealing his muscular chest and thick arms.

Amor was not a worker at Suer Electric Appliances; he worked at a large dairy factory located on the east side of the highway.

Because of their proximity to the source, they have collected quite a few trophies from the factory.

He had just sat down when his wife brought him a cup of hot milk with sugar.

It was thick buffalo milk, the semi-solid milk curdled into lumps, with black spots on top.

Amor didn't care. He tilted his head back and gulped it down in a few gulps, finishing it all.

"Did you go mess with Laforda again today?" His wife asked with a worried tone.

"You don't know anything! If I didn't cause trouble, would you be living in a house like this? Would you even have any appliances?"

Although Amor lived in a slum, his home had all the necessary appliances: a refrigerator, an electric fan, and a light.

The electricity comes from the legal slum next door, where there are readily available water pipes and electrical circuits.

Residents or businesses like his living near the barbed wire could easily reconnect their electricity by offering a bribe.

Their lines have separate meters, and each month they pay their neighbors a higher-than-market electricity rate.

The people in the legal slums got some extra money for free, and Amor and his friends also got access to electricity. Everyone was happy.

As for the household appliances, they were all secondhand items. They all had some problems to begin with, but Amor took them from the junkyard and had someone fix them up before they were ready to use.

There is no doubt that his salary of 800 rupees is not enough to support such a family expense.

Amor also took on side jobs, such as La Fuda.

This is a business designed specifically for street thugs.

Underworld bosses or politicians need them to maintain their status, and they reward them handsomely afterwards.

Most of them earn their income through violence; they cannot imagine a peaceful and tranquil world.

Their current status, the respect they deserve, and the decent life they lead are all thanks to the trouble they've caused over the years.

Since they want to cause trouble and can continue to do so, the distinction between friend and foe is not static. Therefore, for them, friends, enemies, and even human lives are relative concepts.

They climb up by stepping on others, trying to make sure they don't choose the wrong side.

Who allyes with whom, who is most likely to be elected, and who gets a cut.

Is it a labor union, the police, government officials, or the enemy? Even just to ensure the other party doesn't seek revenge for the time being, there are many considerations.

To prepare for this event, he's been working day and night. A friend is taking a job at a dairy factory for him, and Amor is paying him so he can free up his time to cause trouble.

His wife felt deeply uneasy about this kind of life, and every time Amor came back, she would nag him for a long time.

But Amor paid no heed, sitting in his chair drinking, then tilting his head and snoring.

Their seven-month-old daughter was lying on the floor, reaching for the tilted whiskey bottle. Her hands were too small to hold the bottle, so she burst into tears, which was both pitiful and adorable.

Amor's wife immediately picked up her daughter, afraid of disturbing her husband's rest.

But Amor slept soundly, able to fall asleep peacefully amidst the baby's crying and the noise outside.

Until there was a knock on the outside door.

(End of this chapter)