I am a master in India

Chapter 201 New Delhi

Ron had never been to New Delhi, neither in his past life nor in this one.

Now, this city, the capital of India, home to Parliament, the Prime Minister's Office, the Prime Minister's Office, and the residences of ministers, the pride of Indian urban planning, and a showcase of the democratic system touted in the newspapers, lies at his feet.

“Anil, go see why the driver hasn’t arrived yet?” Ron raised his wrist again at the airport exit.

Although it was their first time visiting New Delhi, the Sur family had already made arrangements here.

To be precise, ever since Ron took over the limestone mine in Mirzapur, he had instructed his family to find a place to settle in New Delhi as soon as possible.

This kind of business, involving large-scale mining development, requires connections in New Delhi.

The chief ministers of various states often reside in New Delhi for extended periods, including Yadav in Uttar Pradesh.

Business and politics in India are naturally and deeply intertwined, so they have to keep a close eye on news from New Delhi.

Ratan, as the representative of the Sur family, has been staying in New Delhi during this period.

The city is located on the border of Uttar Pradesh, and he is familiar with the customs and culture of northern India.

Ron had called him in advance, and Ratan assured him he would be at the airport on time, but almost an hour after landing, he still hadn't seen him.

Anil is back, arriving in a Civic.

The driver, pale-faced and sweating profusely, opened the car door and jogged over.

“Young Master, I’m late. The roads in New Delhi are so congested.” He bent down and touched Ron’s toes.

“Where’s Ratan?” Ron found the car empty.

"The master was with a minister's assistant last night and got drunk. He hasn't gotten up yet."

"Never mind, let's go back first." Ron waved his hand.

He recognized the driver; his name was Ishan. He had ridden in Ishan's car before in Ron, Uttar Pradesh.

Yi Shang diligently stuffed the luggage into the trunk and then bent down to open the car door.

Ron had just stepped one foot in when he stopped.

"what is this?"

Under the luxurious leather seats in the back row, there is a large, gleaming steel helmet.

"It's a spittoon, young master."

"Why did you put it in the car?" Ron frowned.

"Some guests like to chew betel nuts, and if they spit the residue out of the car window, it might stick to the side of the car. So the host puts a spittoon in the car to prevent damage," Yi Shang explained with a smile.

He usually does the cleaning after each trip. The betel nut residue stuck to the car is a real nuisance, and Yi Shang is always very careful, afraid of damaging the beautiful paint.

Having a spittoon made things much easier; all he had to do was wash his shiny steel helmet.

"Put it at the back," Ron said, frowning in disapproval.

"Yes, young master." Yi Shang deftly stuffed the thing into the trunk.

“Where are we staying?” Ron asked.

"Defense zone, Buckingham Tower Apartments, young master." Ishan started the car.

New Delhi also has its own affluent areas, such as the Defence Quarter, Greater Kailash, and Vasankangji, which are close to India's power center.

Ron observes the city, which truly deserves to be called the pride of Indian urban planning.

All the roads looked pretty much the same, forming circles with large grassy areas in the middle.

Many people were sitting on the grass sleeping, playing cards, or eating, and then four roads stretched straight out from the middle of the grass.

If you drive onto any of these roads, you'll see a series of circles. In the middle are large patches of grass, where many people are sleeping, playing cards, or eating.

Driving on roads like this, it's easy to get lost. Yi Shang in the front seat kept looking around, seemingly trying to figure out which way to go.

The roads are very neat and orderly, more so than most streets in Mumbai.

However, New Delhi and Mumbai have one huge thing in common: they have undermined the city's dignity as a capital.

The poor, the poor are everywhere!

Thousands of people live along the roads of New Delhi, most of them from Uttar Pradesh or Bihar.

The poor people in these two places are easy to distinguish because they are thin, dirty-faced, and live like animals under bridges or overpasses.

Cars whizzed past them while they cooked, fetched water, and washed clothes, occasionally picking lice from their heads.

These homeless people are a big problem for Ishan; they never wait for red lights and always run across the road at will.

Whenever Ishan braked to avoid them, Anil in the passenger seat would curse loudly.

New Delhi is also a crazy city.

As the car entered the city, it slowed down more and more, and the traffic jam was severe.

Every five minutes, the long line of cars would jolt, and Ron and his Civic would move forward thirty centimeters.

A whole row of car taillights lit up ahead, and everyone impatiently honked their horns, including Yi Shang.

The sound of horns rose and fell along the entire road, each with its own tone, creating a symphony of traffic jams.

The air was filled with car exhaust fumes, and wisps of blue exhaust fumes swayed and flickered in front of the car headlights, growing thicker and thicker. They could neither rise into the air nor dissipate, but could only slowly and shimmer horizontally, spreading around the car like fog.

Ron looked out the car window and saw the road crowded with cars, bicycles, tuk-tuks, rickshaws, and taxis, all vying for space.

People riding bicycles and motorcyclists had their faces covered with towels, and when you looked back, there was a line of people wearing sunglasses and masks behind them.

The scene looked as if the entire street was filled with bank robbers.

The air pollution in New Delhi is so bad! Even the Indians, who are supposed to be immune to all poisons, can't stand it.

After more than half an hour, the Civic finally managed to squeeze out of the traffic jam, but then the Ishan encountered another problem.

The houses in the wealthy neighborhood all have house numbers, but the letters and numbers on the house numbers make no sense at all.

According to the normal order, Building B should follow Building A. However, the house number in front is A211, so the house number behind it might be F332.

Which genius invented the idea of ​​building unit F after unit A and unit 82 after unit 13?
Ishan has been in New Delhi for almost a month, but he still gets lost quite often.

"Are you lost?" Ron noticed his predicament. "Young master, I don't know English," Ishan said with an awkward smile.

"The building in front is Windsor Manor, and the one on the right is Green Heights."

"Oh, I know how to get there, young master!" Yi Shang turned the steering wheel and veered onto another road.

These luxury apartments all look pretty much the same, with glittering glass everywhere, making it hard for Yishan to remember them.

He still prefers his old estate in Varanasi, where the kitchen is bigger than the entire apartment here.

Buckingham Tower is the most upscale apartment building in the area, with a luxurious lobby on the first floor and an elevator inside.

Ratan's apartment was on the twelfth floor. After parking the car, Ishan took Ron and the others directly up in the elevator.

The room was furnished in a modern style, with luxurious and soft sofas.

Ishan first knocked on Ratan's door, then went to the kitchen to clear the dishes.

He was not only a driver, but also acted as a servant.

After leaving the manor, the treatment of the country gentleman dropped by more than one level.

Ratan emerged from his room, still half asleep and reeking of alcohol.

"Hey bro, sorry, that jerk didn't let me go until midnight last night."

"You've already made connections with the people here so quickly?" Ron relaxed and sat down on the sofa.

“You have no idea how troublesome those thugs around Yadav are. They will always try to get something out of you.”

"How about Uttar Pradesh? I mean the mines in Mirzapur."

Ron's trip to New Delhi was not only to meet with Maharashtra Chief Minister Pawar, but also to handle matters related to the cement plant.

He has secured a loan of 30 million rupees in Mumbai, which has been used to order equipment and purchase basic building materials.

Now, Yadav of Uttar Pradesh needs to fulfill his promise and receive another 70 million rupees. As soon as the money arrives, construction will begin immediately.

"The experts you brought in are constantly wandering around the mine. They've drawn up a ton of blueprints, but nobody can understand them."

“We are building the largest and most advanced cement plant in Uttar Pradesh. We can’t be too patient.”

The preliminary exploration work has been completed, and building materials are being delivered to the mine in a steady stream.

"Anyway, you've come at the right time. Let's take care of that Yadav guy and then go back to Uttar Pradesh. I don't want to stay in this godforsaken place for even a day longer. No guns, no women to pick up, it's so boring." Ratan had a very bad impression of New Delhi.

I thought you would like big cities.

“I prefer the countryside, you know, that’s our territory.” Ratan gestured as if firing a gun.

“I’ll make an appointment with that minister tomorrow. I’ve already found a way in Mumbai before I came here.”

Ron got Minister Mabang's phone number from Shavan, and they chatted for a few minutes but didn't go into detail.

Business dealings involving collusion between officials and businessmen cannot be openly discussed over the phone. Third Brother also has a habit of eavesdropping on the phone calls of important figures.

He had to make a trip to New Delhi in person, both to be on the safe side and to show his sincerity.

“That’s perfect. Let’s meet Yadav today. His assistant is glib and unreliable.”

"Today?" Ron asked, somewhat surprised.

“Life in New Delhi begins in the evening,” Ratan winked.

This was exactly what Ron wanted; he was tired from his journey and needed to rest for a while.

While the two brothers were talking, Anil had already taken the elevator to the second basement level.

This is the servants' quarters. In India, every apartment, every house, and every hotel has servants' quarters.

Some are built at the back, while others, like the Buckingham Tower, are built underground.

The servants' quarters resembled a series of interconnected rabbit cages, housing drivers, cooks, cleaners, maids, and chefs.

They can rest, sleep, or wait inside. If the owner needs anything, they just need to press the doorbell.

Anil was simply following a habit to check every corner of the servants' quarters to make sure there was nothing that could endanger his master's safety.

He had attended this kind of training in Mumbai; Officer Ajay used his connections in the Special Forces to get him in for several months of classes.

Ishan led the way; he and Anil knew each other before and were acquaintances.

"There's nothing much to see here, just a bed and nothing else."

Ishan felt that Anil had changed; he used to be a country bumpkin like himself.

Now, he walks with his head held high and chest out, and his eyes look menacing.

He was a little jealous. We're both servants, how come you're doing better than me?

You dare to look your master in the eye and stand up straight; you are not a proper and loyal servant!

"Open the door," Anil said calmly.

"Here I am!" Ishan bowed and scraped.

Damn it, he can never shake off his servant habits.

The servants' quarters were indeed very simple; the floor hadn't been laid yet, and the walls were painted with cheap white plaster, still bearing the workers' handprints.

In the middle of the house was a tattered little bed, just big enough for one person to sleep on, with a mosquito net hanging overhead.

A sharp electronic bell rang in the corridor.

Ishan dashed out in one stride, leaving the still-stunned Anil far behind.

"Ha, I am the best servant," he thought smugly.

This is the bell that the master upstairs rings to call the servants. Ishan has long been trained like a dog, and has a natural conditioned reflex to it.

Sure enough, Ratan's instructions came through a loudspeaker-like mouthpiece.

He told Ishan to prepare the car immediately, as they were going to a minister's residence.

(End of this chapter)