I am a master in India

Chapter 209 Red Wedding

Muna was overjoyed, feeling like he could fly. His master had given him a task!
Muna was not afraid of hard work or suffering, but he was afraid that his master would not assign him any tasks.

If a servant has no work to do, is he still a servant?

There is no such logic in the world.

Muna once longed for freedom, but now he finds that being a servant isn't so bad.

The prerequisite is having a master like Mr. Sue, who is the best master in the world.

If you don't believe me, look at the five hundred rupees in his pocket. He had never heard of a master giving his servant so much money.

Good heavens, the master actually asked me to pass on his blessings, wishing his brother a happy marriage!

Muna desperately wanted to kneel down and kiss his toes, but unfortunately, her owner didn't like that.

Look, he is the best master in the world, and this is yet another piece of evidence.

Muna also did not forget his mission: to find out about the King of Mirzabul.

Well, this just happened incidentally.

What he really needed to do was keep an eye on everything happening in the nearby villages, especially outside of Kana village.

Any rumors or gossip must be reported to the master immediately.

Muna was full of confidence; he knew everything around him.

But the most important thing now is my brother's wedding; this time it's finally their turn to benefit.

His grandmother Rutu was incredibly shrewd; she wouldn't budge when it came to discussing the dowry, which made Yadav both angry and anxious.

In the end, their family won big, and the dowry was so generous that Muna was drooling.

Five thousand rupees in cash, the bills were brand new, all just withdrawn from the bank.

A "Hero" brand bicycle, and a thick gold necklace for his brother Raja.

Make a lot of money!
Not only could he easily repay the tea shop owner's usurious loan, but he also had a considerable surplus.

Yadav truly lives up to his reputation as the largest caste in Uttar Pradesh; it's unbelievable that he could produce such a large dowry.

Muna entered the house, stepped over a horrifying pile of cow dung, and could hear her aunts chattering from afar.

Some of them were feeding cattle, some were winnowing grain, and others were sitting on the ground, staring at another woman's scalp, carefully searching for lice, and then pinching them to death one by one with their fingernails.

They suddenly stopped what they were doing while they were talking, and Muna knew it was time for an argument.

Sure enough, the women exchanged a few swear words and then started throwing metal bottles and cans at each other.

Then they tore at each other's hair, but after a while they kissed the backs of their own hands and then touched each other's cheeks to show that they had made up.

This is the daily life of rural women in North India; arguing is their only source of amusement.

The men were busy with their own affairs in the distance, paying no attention to any of this.

The women usually argue like this when they're away working in the city. They argue like this even when they're home; it makes no difference.

"Muna, come help," his brother Raja called to him as he carried the wine.

A few days ago, my sister Lina got married, and there was still some wine left over from the wedding.

Grandma Lutu was adamant about not buying new wine, so the leftover wine from the table came in handy again.

"Did you see that girl?" Muna asked her brother secretly.

"I peeked into the room, and it wasn't ugly."

"Are they prettier than the actresses in that movie I watched last time?"

"of course not."

"So do you like it?"

Raja paused for a moment, then smiled and patted Muna on the shoulder, "Grandma said you're next."

Muna blushed, a rare occurrence for him. It wasn't that he really wanted to do that; he was simply longing for the generous dowry.

“Tomorrow night, our whole family will have a good drink,” Raja said with a smile.

"Drinking is so good," Muna said, licking her lips.

He got drunk for the first time at his cousin Lina's wedding. Only a few days later, he already vaguely misses the smell of alcohol.

The next day afternoon arrived quickly, and almost the entire village of Kana turned out.

The young men in the village somehow found a donkey, and they put Raja on its back. Then they led the donkey in a grand procession toward the neighboring village.

The wedding organized by Yadav's family was even more extravagant than that of his cousin Lina. A black tape recorder played movie theme songs, and people drank and danced all night long!

Raja was staggering from drinking, Muna was also unsteady on his feet, and his uncles were equally drunk and unable to open their eyes.

But they can still walk; they're going to take the bride back to the village where there will be a celebration.

Traditional Indian weddings also feature something similar to a palanquin, on which the bride sits and is carried by young men from the village of Karna.

Raja sat on a donkey, Muna followed beside him, and a large group of people banged drums, sang, and danced.

There were beeping car horns in the distance, but they were drowned out by the music.

"Rambay, there's a wedding procession ahead, the road is blocked," the young man driving said, turning his head.

"Marriage? People get married in this godforsaken place?"

"Look at those sluts, all of them swaying their hips and wiggling their pelvis," the henchman chuckled lewdly.

“Rambai, teach them a lesson,” another henchman urged.

Ram licked his lips, then shook his head. "Let's go, guys."

He approached the celebrating crowd with a somber expression, unnoticed by the men, women, and children.

Ram listened to the noisy drumming around him, put his hands on his hips and lowered his head.

Suddenly, he waved his hand and joined the group swaying their hips.

The scene changed so quickly that the two henchmen were stunned for a moment before shouting and cheering.

They treated it like a dance hall, indulging in wild revelry, and Ram was a master at it.

His movements were exaggerated and lewd; he would circle around women, sticking out his tongue and bending over.

Finally, someone noticed him and gently stepped forward, saying, "Hey buddy, don't get so worked up."

"Get lost, you idiot!" Ram cursed irritably. "Wait, who are you?" The newcomer then realized that this young man was not from Kana Village.

"Who am I?" Distracted, Ram silently pulled a pistol from his waist. "Who do you think I am?"

"Oh my god, don't do this!" The villager in front of him was trembling with fear.

"Hurry up, you bastard, keep jumping!" Ram laughed, holding a pistol.

The drumming, trumpeting, and radio music continued, but the surrounding celebratory crowd paid no attention to the interruption.

With a gun pointed at him, under Ram's intense gaze, the man could only force himself to dance again with a pained expression.

"Haha!" Ram and his henchmen burst into laughter.

Holding bottles of liquor, they each took a big gulp, and then Ram fired a few shots into the air to add to the merriment.

The villager in front of him was Muna's uncle. After hearing the gunshot, he dared not stop and forced a smile as he continued to sway his hips.

Bang bang bang, Ram fired a few more shots; he loved the feeling of lording it over everyone.

Muna, standing in the crowd, suddenly shivered; he thought he had heard gunshots.

He knew that sound all too well; the crow had fired that shot right in front of him.

The drumbeats and trumpet sounds faded away, and the crowd gradually quieted down; they had all heard the gunshots.

Muna tried to squeeze through, but something dripped onto his arm, warm to the touch.

He turned his head, his eyes widening – it was blood.

It wasn't just on his arms, but also on the donkey he was leading. It was reddish-brown, covering the donkey's gray fur.

Muna looked up blankly. Raja's right eye was dark and swollen, and black blood was gushing out and covering half of his face.

Raja swayed and then collapsed onto the donkey.

"Ugh, ugh," the donkey brayed twice, then ran off carrying the corpse.

The crowd screamed in terror, and in the blink of an eye, they dispersed completely.

The henchmen exchanged glances, their eyes darting away.

Ram rubbed his forehead with his pistol in frustration. Just when his henchmen thought they were about to head home, he suddenly burst into laughter.

"See, no one is blocking the way now."

He was going to Changdawuli, where there was a girl waiting for him to force himself on her.

The car rumbled past the entrance to Wana village, and as it passed the mine, Ram fired two more shots at it.

He is the son of Mirzabur, and apart from his father, he is the king here.

Ron was awakened before dawn by news from the mine that someone had been injured.

He lived in Crow's former estate, not far from the mine.

After instructing Anil to drive there quickly, he saw a large crowd gathered there.

Ratan had arrived earlier; he happened to get up early to go hunting and then encountered the worker who had tipped him off on the way.

"How is it?" Ron hurried over.

“Gunshot wound.” Ratan gestured.

"A gunshot wound?" Ron was taken aback; he had thought it was an accident at the mine.

He was so drowsy that he didn't hear clearly, which made him extremely nervous.

If the mine collapses, that would be a real problem.

“How did you get a gunshot wound?” Ron crouched down to examine the worker’s condition.

He was shot in the calf, but luckily the bone wasn't broken.

"Sir, I was patrolling on the mine pile when I felt like I'd been stabbed in the leg, and then I rolled down from it."

The worker looked dejected and wailed; he had been completely innocent in this misfortune.

"Don't speak yet, let me treat your wound." Ron was already quite adept at this kind of work.

In India, you can always encounter all sorts of accidents. Especially for the poor, the reasons for their injuries are varied.

External injuries were the most common, and also Ron's area of ​​expertise.

He even felt that his surgical skills were comparable to those of true experts.

The workers watching stared wide-eyed; they had never known their boss had this trick up his sleeve.

He was a Brahmin, yet he was willing to treat the illnesses of lower castes.

Most of the workers here are Shudras, and Vaishyas are a minority; they rarely have access to doctors.

Ron's dazzling movements left them speechless, barely daring to breathe.

The injured worker was not given anesthesia and could only bite on a towel to endure the pain of stitches.

Everything was done in about half an hour.

“My master is the most famous doctor in Mumbai! Mumbai, you know, Golden-winged Bird!” Anil boasted proudly.

"He's a miracle doctor!" "A miracle doctor indeed!" the crowd whispered among themselves.

"Do you know what my master's surname, Sur, means? The Sun God!"

"Sulliya!" "Sulliya!"

"Everyone, disperse." Ron waved his hand; if he didn't stop them, these people would come over and touch his feet again.

After calming the workers down and having them carried him back to rest, Ron and Ratan walked to the side.

"what happened?"

"Someone saw a white SUV pass by here, and that's when the gunshots rang out."

"An off-road vehicle?" Ron frowned. Was someone seeking revenge, or deliberately causing trouble?

"Don't worry, I've already sent people to investigate. Anyone who dares to touch my men, I'll rip a few holes in their head." Ratan's face hardened.

"Don't act impulsively. We must find out about the other party's background first."

Ron had only spoken half a sentence when he saw Muna and several other people carrying a stretcher, rushing toward them.

(End of this chapter)