I am a master in India

Chapter 205 Joke
“I’ve visited Mr. Thackeray’s house a few times,” Ron replied vaguely.

“I’ve heard all about it. He helped you with the factory dispute, and you even asked him to intercede for Sanji Dut. In Mumbai, that’s no ordinary relationship.” Pavar looked at him with a half-smile.

“Minister, I’m a businessman.” Ron shrugged helplessly. “Whoever manages Mumbai, we will give them our full respect.”

He put it very tactfully, saying that a businessman wouldn't offend either the Shiva Army or the Congress Party.

“Merchants are all cunning, and Brahmin merchants are even more cunning,” Pavar remarked sarcastically.

“Mayor Sawan highly appreciates Suer Electric’s contributions to Mumbai. We also helped a Congress member obtain a seat on the Mumbai Municipal Council.”

“I’ve heard,” Pavard glanced at him, “otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting in my study today.”

Pavard is a Congress Party member, an ally of the Shiva Army and the BJP, and his relationship with Thackeray is delicate.

Both are in Mumbai, and it's hard not to speculate about their feelings towards each other, given that two tigers cannot share the same mountain.

However, it's not necessarily true that they are completely hostile. Ultimately, Shiva's army is fighting for the interests of the Marathi people and Hindus.

The Congress Party members in Mumbai are mostly Marathi and Hindu, who are natural allies.

Political parties, the caste system, religion, and geopolitics are intertwined between the Congress Party and the Shiv Sena, sometimes blending together and sometimes opposing each other.

Complex, extremely complex.

"Tell Thackeray that Shiva's army has taken control of the municipal company, and they should not overstep their bounds in other places."

Ron's eyes flickered, and he immediately understood what he meant. "I will call Mr. Thackeray. We're all in this for Mumbai, so we can sit down and talk."

“A phone call will do,” Naval replied.

Ron understood; this meant he was being asked to act as a mediator between the two parties.

He was a businessman who was on good terms with both the Shiva Army and the Indian National Congress, making him a natural fit to be a middleman.

Navarre will not call Thackeray directly, which avoids an unpleasant argument between the two party leaders on the phone.

After the middleman facilitates the deal, there is room for maneuver.

Politics is also the art of communication.

“Alright, now let’s talk about your Sur Park. Rahul and I have already discussed it.” With the important matter settled, Navarre felt relieved.

"This plan owes a lot to him." Ron quietly pulled out the blueprint.

The initial draft of Rahul depicted a park with lawns, ponds, a well-equipped employee community, beautifully planned factory buildings, and towering office buildings that were eye-catching.

"Are these factories all used to produce water-cooled air conditioners?" Naval asked, pointing to a specially marked area on the blueprints.

"No, that's a television production line."

"A television?" Naval raised his voice slightly.

"Yes, Indians' own television sets."

It was almost 94, but India still did not have a single domestic television brand with its own technology.

If you ask where the TVs on the market come from, 90% are imported from Japan and South Korea, and the remaining small portion comes from other assembly manufacturers in India.

So-called domestically produced televisions are all assembled using foreign parts, or simply imported as complete sets, then labeled with their own brand, and that's how they're considered domestically produced televisions.

There are two television factories in Mabang, both of which produce OEM products.

These rebranded goods are of questionable quality and ridiculously expensive, making them unaffordable for the middle class.

Ultimately, India doesn't have its own television technology at all; even assembly is a technical skill.

When Ron said that Suer Electric was going to produce televisions, Naval was completely shocked.

"How did you manage that? I mean, can Suer Electric really manufacture televisions? Or did you just buy them and put our Hindi signs on them?"

"We are in talks with several foreign television manufacturers about technology transfer, and the supporting production lines will be located at Suer Electric."

The production line—that's the key!
Regardless of whether it uses foreign technology, if it's manufactured in India, it's considered an Indian product.

Navarre could easily claim to the outside world that this is a genuine Indian brand.

If you take a few more photos of the factory, or take the media on a tour of the workshop, they'll be eager to drape the halo of "national pride" over you.

Navarre immediately came up with several ways to gain fame, provided that the plan was reliable.

"Are you sure Suer Electric's TV production line will actually be established?"

"Of course, our negotiations with foreign countries went very smoothly, otherwise why would I have spent so much money to build the Suer Industrial Park?"

Well, Ron only sent a brief inquiry fax; the so-called negotiations were all fake.

But this doesn't stop him from boasting about Suer Electric's grand plans; acquiring land is no small matter.

"When is production expected to begin?"

"Two years."

"One year, license and other approvals, I'll help you with the calls."

“Okay,” Ron readily agreed.

During his time in New Delhi, he had figured out the style of Indian officials: they were ambitious and eager for quick success.

If you dare to say a year, he dares to ask you to shorten it to half a year, completely disregarding whether this conforms to objective laws.

Indian businessmen would always agree, just as readily as they could, without considering whether they could actually deliver.

For them, getting the license is the key; when that will happen, who knows, that's not important.

Ron adapted to local customs; he was willing to agree to work at mines and cement plants, so what was a television factory compared to that?

He'd get the land first, then he'd have countless excuses to deal with official inquiries later.

“I approve this land,” Navarre said immediately.

If he gets the money, and the project is not only reliable but also has a buzz, then he, as the chief minister, will not hesitate.

"That's wonderful!" Ron clapped his hands exaggeratedly. "Oh, Minister, the people of Mumbai will soon have their own televisions."

“You’d better do this well,” Naval instructed with an air of authority.

“Of course, of course, it’s just because we owe the bank too much money for the TV production line. And this land in the Suer Industrial Park…” At this moment, the fat assistant stepped forward and whispered a number in Naval’s ear: three million.

That was the money Ron had just put in his travel bag; the fat man had already counted it.

"The planning of the Sur Industrial Park is about the industrial development of Mumbai, no, it's about the entire Maharashtra region. You only need to pay one-third of the stipulated amount for the 200 acres of land, and that money will be paid off in five years."

“Minister, you are truly visionary!” Ron grasped Naval’s hand, his words tumbling out in excitement.

Land worth 70 to 80 million rupees is now worth less than 30 million, and it will be paid in installments over five years.

Ah, the Minister's kindness is never enough!

As Ron left Navarre’s residence, he felt refreshed; the air in New Delhi wasn’t so bad after all.

“Ron, we’ve given away several million again this time,” Ratan said sullenly.

"You feel you've been cheated?"

“It’s only 200 acres, and he dares to charge us three million rupees. In Uttar Pradesh, one million rupees is enough, and the land itself is free.”

"Mumbai, it's the golden-winged bird in so many people's hearts, so it's normal for it to be a bit expensive."

Ron gave away three million, but saved even more. That was forty or fifty million rupees, more than ten times the amount.

In India, don't hesitate to bribe officials. They will use state resources to compensate you for your efforts.

For Navarre, how much the government sells the land for is none of his business; he can't pocket it anyway.

Three million rupees is the real deal. Whether land in Mumbai sells for one hundred million rupees or ten million rupees is entirely up to him.

This is a way to monetize, a win-win situation for both businessmen and politicians.

Who lost out? My great India says, basic procedure, don't be silly.

Back in the car, Ratan still seemed to regret the bribe he had just received.

“Brother, you even gave away your own gold watch.”

"It's easier to see the King of Hell than to deal with his underlings."

"We can't let them develop this habit."

"That's right, so we need to befriend higher-ranking figures."

“Then only the chief carp is left.” Ratan looked at the dome of the chief’s mansion with a mocking expression.

“Look over there,” Ron said, pointing out the window.

"what?"

"That statue."

To be precise, it's a group of statues, with Mahatma Gandhi at the very front, holding a walking stick. Behind him are his people, following him out of darkness and into the light.

Ratan squinted at the statue.

"What's wrong? I've watched it so many times."

“We just gave a gift to a minister, and now we’re driving past a statue of Gandhi. It’s so ironic, it’s like a joke.”

"He must see these kinds of jokes countless times every day, so he probably doesn't find them funny anymore."

"That's true, that's just how our system is."

"Never mind that, things in India are just that complicated. What I'm more concerned about now is when we can get back to Uttar Pradesh."

"It's possible anytime, but it would be best if someone from the family could be stationed permanently in New Delhi."

"I don't want to come to this awful place again. Let other people come."

Ron has three uncles, each with several children, making a large family of more than ten people.

There are plenty of people willing to come to New Delhi, but young people like Ratan who don't like the glitz and glamour of the world are the exceptions.

"By the way, are you familiar with that Chada?" Ron asked.

“He is from Moradabad. His ancestors came from the north and only moved to Uttar Pradesh in the 60s.”

"North?"

"Yes, Baba sheep."

There is basically only one religion there. Sikhism, like Chadda, or other Hinduisms cannot survive there at all.

“He seems to have some gang connections.” Ron had seen his men; they didn’t look like easy targets.

“Brother, we’re from Uttar Pradesh. You can’t do business in Uttar Pradesh without a gun.”

“Okay, I should have known. Liquor licenses are extremely difficult to obtain, even more difficult than mining licenses.”

"Don't let his disability fool you, he's tough and decisive, and his two younger brothers are no match for him."

“He is indeed very capable.” Ron nodded, judging from the demeanor the other party displayed when they first met.

“Don’t gossip about what happened last night. We don’t need to offend the Chada family over a beggar,” Ratan reminded him.

"Of course, I'm just inquiring about which figures in the North we need to pay special attention to in the future."

“We’ll discuss this further when we get back.” Ratan patted Ishan in front of him, signaling him to speed up.

"By the way, his car is nice." Ron remembered the extended Cadillac.

"Are you excited?"

"You know, Indians are very particular about appearances."

"Wow, that must cost a lot of money."

"Forget it, our focus now is the cement plant. Let's make money first, then buy the car."

All the formalities have been completed, and the Uttar Pradesh Bank has given a reply.

Now, Ron is going to start his own mining business.

(End of this chapter)