I am a master in India

Chapter 274 Thighs
"It's been a long time since I've been home to visit my family," Kavia said, expressing her excitement for this trip to the south.

"Actually, I'm more curious about why you traveled all the way to Mumbai?"

“I went to university abroad, and only Mumbai in all of India made me feel that sense of freedom.”

"Are your family really so comfortable letting you run away alone?"

“Didn’t you also come to Mumbai alone?” Kavia retorted.

“That’s different, I’m a man.” Ron waved his hand.

“Hey, that’s discrimination.” Kavia laughed and patted his arm.

The two chatted and laughed as they left the airport in Madras. This time, Ron didn't bring many people with him, and Kavia confidently assured him that everything was in her hands.

Tamil is the southernmost state of India, characterized by its hot climate and proximity to the sea.

The rainy season is from June to September each year, while the rest of the year is accompanied by dry monsoons.

It's January now, and while New Delhi to the north is already bitterly cold, Madeira is so hot that people are drenched in sweat.

As soon as Ron and Kavia left the hall, they squinted at the blazing sun.

“This is a great place for a winter vacation,” Ron said with a smile and a shrug.

“You can come every year.” Kavia glanced at him with a flirtatious look.

“If this goes well, maybe we’ll really come every year from now on.” Ron pretended not to understand.

"It will definitely go smoothly," Kavia said confidently.

"So confident?"

She smiled without saying a word, and simply led Ron to the roadside outside the airport.

There was a BMW parked there, with a driver in uniform standing discreetly beside it.

“Miss.” As soon as Kavia approached, he immediately came over and touched her feet in a gesture of respect.

“Let’s go to Auntie’s.” Kavia waved her hand, then pulled Ron into the car.

The driver respectfully clasped his hands together, then started the car without a word and drove towards downtown Madras.

This is a new BMW sedan, quite valuable, almost equivalent to Ron's Mercedes-Benz.

He was somewhat surprised. He knew that Kavia came from a well-off family, but it seemed that his previous assumptions were still too conservative.

Kavia didn't take it to heart; she pointed out the window and introduced Ron to the local customs and culture.

Madras is the economic center of the south, but its character is very different from Mumbai or Delhi.

This is also a large metropolis with a population of over seven million. The climate is humid and hot, and the air is filled with unpleasant odors.

Well, the Indian subcontinent will never get rid of this flavor, as if it were born that way.

However, Madras has a much slower pace of life than Mumbai. The streets in the city center are not noisy at all, and the buildings on both sides are low-rise buildings rather than the towering glass skyscrapers of New Delhi.

The locals live a different lifestyle than those in other cities. Even the social elites dress simply, live frugally, and prefer to pursue spiritual things.

Here you'll rarely see outlandish costumes or flashy sports cars speeding by; people prefer to enjoy classical music in concert halls.

Incidentally, the literacy rate in Tamil is higher than in Gujarat, exceeding 70%.

Illiteracy is only a small percentage here; most people have received a complete primary or even secondary education.

Because of its high level of education, Tamil Nadu is also the state with the lowest perceived presence of the caste system in India.

People will still live in groups according to their ethnicity, and Brahmins will not intermarry with lower castes, but the kind of casual killing that occurs in Uttar Pradesh will never happen again.

You can see women on the street chattering away, talking to men they meet on the street, not their husbands.

This is unimaginable in North India, where women wear veils when they go out and keep their eyes on the road when they speak.

Ron thought that perhaps only with such an open atmosphere could a female student like Kavia dare to venture into Mumbai alone.

This place is truly different from other parts of India; Ron sensed a vibrant energy here.

They got off at a quiet avenue near the city center, where the trees were shady and the leaves rustled in the wind.

The scorching sunlight fell to the ground, leaving only dappled light and shadow, posing no threat and instead adding a touch of comfort.

“It’s just ahead.” Kavia pointed to a three-story building not far away.

"What is that place?"

"A place that can guarantee your trip to Tamil will go smoothly."

As Ron got closer, he realized that the building was exquisite, with many flags he didn't recognize hanging at the entrance.

The Greek-style columns and second-floor balcony reflect colonial-era characteristics, with gracefully curved lettering hanging at the very top.

Headquarters of the All India Anadahravid Progressive Alliance (AIADMK).

“Oh!” Ron exclaimed, his mouth agape. “If I remember correctly, this is one of the two major political parties in Tamil Nadu.”

"It seems you've done some research," Kavia smiled with satisfaction.

For the past few decades, the political situation in the Tamil community of southern India has been mainly controlled by two political parties, one of which is AIADMK.

Another one is called the Dravidian Progressive Alliance (DMK), and their names are very similar.

The fact is that AIADMK broke away from DMK. Its founder, Ramachandran, was originally a loyal member of DMK. However, due to disagreements over governance, he left DMK and became AIADMK, a group specifically opposed to it.

Ramachandran was the most famous Tamil actor of his time, and he had a strong appeal to the public, but he passed away in the 80s.

When Ron and his companions arrived at the entrance, they were quickly drawn to the small golden statue in the front yard, which was none other than the founder, Ramachandran.

He was wearing a hat and thick glasses, and one hand was raised high in a V-sign victory gesture.

However, he was completely overshadowed by the party's current leading figure, Jayalam Jayalita, who is now the Chief Minister of Tamil State.

In the front yard, there are four billboards with Jayalita's solemn face looking down at the giant billboards below, one of which is almost as tall as the building itself.

"Wait, could the aunt you're talking about be her?" Ron stared blankly at the poster.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Kavia blinked. “I come from the Iyengar family in Tamil Nadu.”

“Of course I know your last name, but…” Ron didn’t know what to say.

The Iyengar are a Brahmin caste, and a very ancient one in Tamil Nadu, said to have been passed down for over a dozen centuries.

He just didn't expect that the Kavia family had such a close relationship with the key figure in the local ruling party.

Ron was unfamiliar with the political landscape of Tamil Nadu, but just by looking at her aunt's imposing manner, he knew she wielded extraordinary influence in the region.

Why? You can find the answer simply by shifting your gaze from this building to the street.

At intersections, bus stops, and overpasses, there are thousands of her brightly colored promotional posters.

At the headquarters entrance, a stall displays a variety of souvenirs designed for AIADMK supporters, including gold-framed portraits and postcards of Jayalalita, as well as brightly colored rugs and chair covers printed with her image.

Kavia said his aunt was a Tamil movie star before she entered politics, and she was very charming in her youth; there are photos of her from that period on the souvenir shelf.

They might be gazing at the camera with captivating charm, or resting their chin on their hand while smiling and admiring the surrounding scenery.

However, in most souvenirs, she is depicted as an older woman. She has a serious expression, wears a traditional sari, has a double chin, a red dot on her forehead, and her long black hair is elegantly styled in a bun.

Without exception, these posters or souvenirs all bear the word "Amma," which is the Tamil term of respect for her.

Do you think that's all? No, take a look further ahead.

The streets are full of restaurants run by grandmothers, where workers can buy breakfasts at great discounts. For just one rupee, you can get a steamed rice cake or a bowl of porridge made with rice and lentils.

Besides restaurants, there are also stalls run by elderly women where you can buy vegetables at low prices. Bottled water and cement bags on the shelves are printed with the images of elderly women.

This frenzied political propaganda permeated every aspect of life, from discount stores to movie theaters, and even salt and tea shops.

At first, Ron was wondering who this "mother" was, until he arrived at AIADMK headquarters and the answer was revealed.

Such comprehensive and all-encompassing propaganda is something even Arab dictators would envy.

However, this is an old tradition of Indian politicians; they want to plaster their own images everywhere.

In a more veneer way, it's called political propaganda; to put it bluntly, it's personality cult.

This is the kind of thing that the lower classes in India believe in; it's basic stuff.

Even in Ron's own cement factory, there were posters with his image everywhere, emphasizing the idea of ​​adapting to local customs.

“My aunt takes this kind of image promotion very seriously, you know, she’s a movie star.” Kavia took his hand and led him inside.

“A very effective way to spread information,” Ron nodded.

"You think so too, right? She was bright and clever as a child and loved reading. After entering the entertainment industry, she met many people, including Ramachandra."

At this point, Kavia quietly stopped talking. Ahem, the rest of the content is not suitable for dissemination.

Her aunt later became Ramachandra's mistress, essentially a third party.

In those days, it was considered extremely shocking for a Brahmin to be someone's lover.

Ramachandra entered politics, and she followed in his footsteps into the political arena.

After his death, Jayalalita and his widow successfully inherited his political legacy after a fierce public contest.

Look, the headquarters right here is proof.

Everyone here seemed to know Kavia. The armed guards at the entrance and the staff coming and going ignored them and even bowed to them from a distance.

Although her aunt Jayalalita's portrait was plastered all over the city, she usually kept to herself and rarely appeared in public.

At the very top of her office was a very spacious and private office.

When Kavia knocked and entered, she was holding a newspaper and reading it with her head down.

Jayalalita is indeed not very tall, but his skin is very fair, making him stand out starkly against the dark-skinned natives of Tamil.

Ironically, the AIADMK party was originally founded to oppose the high caste's monopoly of power, but now its leader is a female Brahmin.

"Kavia?" Jayalalita looked at the doorway in surprise.

“Auntie.” The usually independent Kavia rushed into her arms like a little girl.

"What's so great about Mumbai? I've told you so, but you just won't listen. By the way, is this young man your boyfriend?"

"Oh, this," Ron said with an awkward yet polite smile.

(End of this chapter)