I am a master in India

Chapter 175 The Poor and the Rich

The branch factory in Uttar Pradesh has stopped operating; only half of the foundation has been laid.

There were so many reasons for the work stoppage that Ron couldn't keep up with them all on the phone.

It was obvious that he needed to go back again.

Uttar Pradesh is nothing like Mumbai. It is backward, poor, illiterates, and has virtually no infrastructure. You never know what unexpected situations you might encounter.

As the factory's investor, he had to go back and see for himself before making a decision.

However, before leaving, Ron had one more thing to do: attend Shavan's party.

He is the mayor of Mumbai and a member of the Congress Party. In terms of political affiliation, Ron should be aligned with the BJP.

But politics is not so simple. He is a businessman and doesn't care about party affiliation.

He can fund one side or the other, just like most businessmen in India do.

A businessman is a businessman. You can have political leanings, but you can't completely shut out the other side.

Sawan is the best example; he was a member of the Congress Party, yet he was very close to the leaders of the Shiva Army.

This is not contradictory; it all depends on whose support you need most at the moment.

The racecourse has always been a popular venue for Mumbai's wealthy to hold parties, as it is located next to the racecourse.

During the day, the poor and the rich flocked to the event, waving their betting tickets and cheering for their chosen riders. No distinction was made between them; they were all united in their hatred of the enemy.

At night, the poor leave, and the rich stay. One group returns to the stinking slums, while the other dances and sings in the glittering racetrack.

"Is that Amit Bachchan?" Ron asked, holding his wine glass and looking at the stage ahead.

“Yes, he’s very charming, isn’t he? Women all over India are crazy about him.” Shawan’s eyes showed excitement, as well as pride and self-satisfaction.

"His singing was surprisingly good; I thought he was only good at making movies."

"He can be an actor or a singer, it all depends on the occasion." Chavan flicked his wine glass, his smugness evident.

Today's party was a private event he organized. How many people could have a Bollywood superstar, a household name throughout India, perform for the guests here?

He was the mayor of Mumbai. Bollywood, though popular, was ultimately a second-rate industry. Inviting a Bollywood star wouldn't have been difficult for Shawan.

After Amit Bachchan finished singing, everyone in the banquet hall applauded and cheered.

“Worth a drink, a fine whisky.” Chavannes raised his glass.

“I can already smell the intoxicating fragrance.” Ron touched him.

The rich don't drink Indian whiskey; they drink imported spirits.

For tonight's party, the Sawanto people were flown directly from abroad to Mumbai airport.

Fine wine, celebrities, beautiful women, and wealthy men; one Indian pop song after another plays non-stop on stage.

The lobby was decorated with the most modern home appliances, and people were speaking American English.

The scene was reminiscent of 20s Chicago, with the entire party being a poor imitation of the West by India.

However, the traditional tote bags and Guldar costumes made the party seem somewhat out of place.

"I heard there's been a problem with the power supply to Suer Electric?" After a few rounds of drinks, Shavan finally shifted the topic from the party to business.

“A little,” Ron shrugged, “because of that we have a lot of backlogged orders.”

"That's how it is during the rainy season; circuits that were working perfectly before can easily stop working because of the rain."

“We have to tip those electricians every time, but things don’t get much better,” Ron complained.

“Mumbai has the electricity needs of tens of millions of people. During the rainy season, we can only provide power to different areas at different times. But,” Shavan paused, glanced at him, and continued, “in certain special circumstances, we can move the power supply from one area to another to ensure that those critical places never lose power.”

"Oh! I guess this might require some cost to implement?"

“That’s it!” Shavan looked at Ron with satisfaction; they were all smart men.

"So how much is this budget? I'm not sure if my factory can afford it, because there are nearly a thousand workers who are starving due to power outages."

“Not much, just five lag,” Shavan assured him. “You know, the next municipal council elections are coming up, and they’ll decide where the key areas for power supply are and where the negligible areas are.”

"So this money was used to help someone get elected as a municipal councilor, and he particularly values ​​Suer Electric's contributions to Mumbai?"

"Mr. Suer, you are a born politician!"

"That's because of your guidance."

The two smiled at each other and then clinked glasses.

Bah, what a load of rubbish, a politician. It was Ruby who brought the two of them to an agreement.

"If Mr. Sur has the time, he might as well go to the election site and see that the Congress Party still dominates India's future."

“I will, but I might have to go back to Uttar Pradesh soon, so I might not be able to make it.”

"That's a shame."

The two then tacitly steered the conversation toward Bollywood scandals, had a couple more drinks, and then went their separate ways.

The deal is done, but there are still many more relationships to maintain in the world of fame and fortune.

Ron finally understood why the mayor had dragged him to the party.

Election fundraising is a perennial topic in Indian politics.

The highest decision-making body governing Mumbai is the City Hall, which consists of three main entities.

Mayor, municipal councilor, municipal commissioner.

Municipal commissioners are civil servants who are appointed by the state government after passing an assessment.

Municipal councilors are directly elected by the citizens, while the mayor is elected by the municipal councilors.

The reason why Chavan was so keen to campaign for the municipal councilors was because it was also related to his position as mayor.

Only if enough people on the municipal council stand on his side can he guarantee that he will still get a majority of votes in the next election.

It's a very simple matter of self-interest; Shawan is doing all this for his own benefit. Unfortunately, even regional elections cannot function without financial support.

Mumbai has a population of over ten million, but not everyone is willing to vote.

To get enough votes, you need to mobilize enough people, which undoubtedly requires money.

Just like how scanning a QR code to get free eggs in later generations, people might vote for you because of the eggs.

Of course, eggs cost money. A single egg may not be worth much, but thousands or thousands of eggs can become an astonishing expense.

A businessman like Ron is a hot commodity in the eyes of politicians.

He doesn't mind spending some money, nor does he care whether he supports the Congress Party or the BJP.

Because this is a regional election, not a general election concerning the masters of New Delhi.

He didn't have time to watch the election, but that didn't stop him from sending his men to investigate.

Anil and Amor accepted the job, carrying a plastic bag containing 500,000 rupees in cash.

The plastic bag was something I found somewhere on the spot, and it had the slogan "Haldiram condiments - the choice of every household" printed on it.

The two arrived at the meeting place, where Congress MP Udit, an ordinary middle-aged man, greeted them.

After receiving the money, the other party invited them to campaign for the election.

The two were already on a mission, so there was nothing wrong with it.

Udit campaigned in the urban villages surrounding the Malabar Mountains in southern Mumbai. They walked on the rocks by the sea, where large shantytowns have been built.

Most residents were unmoved by Udit's arrival. One man quipped, "You get water more often than we do here. We only get water once every five years."

But one family worshipped Udit, bringing out an iron plate containing coconuts, oil lamps, and incense sticks, performing a Puja before him, and then kneeling to touch his feet in a gesture of respect.

Udit blessed them, and the chants of his followers changed from Marathi to Hindi and then to English, depending on the residents.

When visiting a family, Udit would bring a small bag of grain or a small bucket of olive oil.

Then he repeatedly assured people that there would be more benefits to be distributed when they went to the polling station on election day.

Unfortunately, the residents didn't seem to appreciate Udit, because there were even bigger bags of grain and bigger barrels of oil piled up in front of their doors.

In this election season, campaigning is extremely competitive.

People were not intimidated by Udit. A woman came out of her shack and pointed to a water pipe in front of her, saying, "The reservoir is over there."

She was referring to the Malabar Reservoir, which supplies water to the entire southern Mumbai. “But I had no water. I had to quit my job of 22 years, otherwise I would have left at 6 o’clock and luckily arrived at my unit in northern Mumbai at 7:30.”

She has to stay at home and fill buckets with water when the water truck comes by, otherwise there will be no water available.

Can Udit solve this kind of problem? Solve no problem at all, even though his responsibilities at the city hall include the water supply company.

In Mumbai, water resources are a business, a business that only the powerful and influential can participate in.

If slums don't lack water, then where do their huge profits come from?

Udit promised to solve the problem, but that was just a formality, all for the sake of the election.

People's questions are all kinds of strange and wonderful, and Udit can only do his best to deal with them.

"This area just had power, why is it out again in less than a week?"

"The power lines are having problems because of the rainy season, but they will be fixed soon."

"The wealthy neighborhood next door hasn't lost power; only the poor people's areas are without electricity. Where did the electricity go? Did you steal and sell it?"

Amor touched his nose; he knew the answer to the question, but he couldn't say.

If Suer Electric Appliances shuts down, his salary as the security captain might also be affected.

"Can you help my daughter with her school enrollment?" someone else asked.

"Does she want to attend a church school, a public school, or a private school?"

"Wolsingham. Can you get my daughter in? Give me a straight answer."

Walsingham is one of the best girls' schools in Mumbai; it is private.

That meant a lot of money, but Udit still lied through his teeth, promising that if he were elected, he would persuade the city government to establish a special education subsidy.

So-called campaign rallies are nothing but a complete game of lies.

The person who says it knows they can't do it, but they still enjoy it.

Those listening knew the speaker was full of lies, but this was one of the few times they could see an important person being kind and approachable, so they were happy to listen a few more words.

Anil and Amor listened without saying a word, both inwardly scoffing at these politicians.

However, the two also noticed a strange phenomenon: Udit never stepped into the upscale residential area just across the street from the slums.

"Why not?" Amor couldn't help but ask.

“Rich people don’t come down to vote,” he replied.

In the affluent area of ​​the Malabar Mountains, only 12 percent of the “legal” residents vote.

In the adjacent shantytowns, the voter turnout was 88 percent. For the people there, the fact that someone wasn't elected meant the possibility of them becoming homeless.

In India, it's the poor who vote.

Look, even though they are both democratic countries, the voting groups in the United States and India are completely different.

After listening to Anil and Amor's reports, Ron finally gained some understanding of the democratic rules in India.

He will inevitably have to deal with this industry in the future, and this is just a way for him to familiarize himself with the process in advance.

There's nothing urgent in Mumbai for the time being, so he should head back to Uttar Pradesh.

This time, he wasn't considering splitting up factories, but rather another business.

(End of this chapter)