I am a master in India

Chapter 286 Judge
In Mumbai, sometimes you have to break the law to survive, and many people have become accustomed to breaking laws and regulations at all times.

You don't like bribing officials, nor do you want to buy movie tickets on the black market, but obtaining a driver's license or movie tickets through legal means is so difficult that it forces you to choose the relatively easy but illegal route.

If the whole country accepts this approach, and we already have a parallel economic system and a tax system, then why not build a parallel judicial system as well?
Mumbai is an ideal place for gang warfare. Wherever the government turns a blind eye, such as the judicial system, the personal safety of citizens, and the flow of industry funds, once the supervision fails, gangs take advantage of the situation.

When the courts can't resolve a problem, people have no choice but to turn to gangs known for their efficiency.

At a party on Kraft Avenue, Ron met a well-educated woman who often traveled far and wide.

She had a dispute with her landlord over rent and consulted an advisor on how to get most of the money back.

“Just kidnap the landlord’s daughter,” the consultant told her.

The woman was very surprised, but then said, "If I'm really forced into this situation, I have no other choice but to resort to this."

Look, even the elites of society are so indifferent to the law.

This demonstrates just how incompetent India's judicial system is; the entire society has reached a consensus on this.

Later, Ron made a phone call for the lady and easily resolved her money problem.

This story circulated quietly at the party, and somehow Ron earned the reputation of being a "judge."

In fact, many people had heard about another case he had adjudicated before this.

That happened in Bollywood, yes, it was the copyright dispute between director Chopra and Daoud about music cassette tapes.

The leader, who was far away in Dubai, still bowed down to Mr. Soor and even called Chopra afterwards to apologize.

There are no secrets in the entertainment industry; many details have already been uncovered.

After all, there were many people present when Ron made that call.

People didn't care what methods Mr. Sue used; all they knew was that the judges of the parallel justice system—the gangsters—had been put on trial.

This speaks volumes, especially to well-informed upper-ups.

When they encounter difficulties and cannot resolve their problems through normal legal channels, do you think they would prefer to turn to gangsters or have Mr. Sue intervene?
Those in the Lawful Order of Light are natural allies.

When Mr. Chargé d'Affaires of the Supreme Court of Mumbai encountered difficulties, his first thought was of Mr. Sur.

There are rumors that Mr. Su will adopt the court's mediation model and will verify every case, without blindly listening to one party's demands for compensation or debt collection.

This makes sense: if the defendant owes money, they will inevitably try every means to deny it. But if they are falsely accused, they will cry out for justice even more vehemently.

Chargi has truly been cheated out of his money this time, and he hopes Mr. Sur can help him get justice.

The person who acted as a go-between was Chopra; they were already old friends.

“Ron, the Supreme Court’s Chargé is right next to me. He’s an honest man.”

“Okay, give him the phone.” Ron was enjoying Nia’s services at home.

May you be safe and peaceful.

"Are you a herdsman?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

That phrase is usually a greeting among herders, while Hindus often include deities in it, such as "Glory to Shiva, Mara."

This is because the Muslims prohibit the worship of deities; even Allah, whom they frequently mention, has no image. The Qingzheng Mosque also lacks sculptures, instead using intricate geometric patterns as decorations.

Hinduism, on the other hand, goes against the grain, going for the most mystical and esoteric methods.

As a qualified Indian, Ron immediately recognized the other party's identity.

“Mr. Suer, you are a good man, and we are all grateful for the righteous hand you extended back then,” Chargi explained cautiously.

"Don't worry, no matter what your beliefs are, I will handle this matter fairly."

"Yes Yes."

"Now tell me about your situation."

"You know that."

"Hold on."

The clicking and clattering were too loud for Ron to hear. He patted Nia's head, gesturing for her to sit down.

"Alright, you can speak now." He had already gotten into position, and Ge You lay down.

“I want to get back some money. The person who owes me money is named Shaykh.”

"Nia, bring me my notebook and pen. How much does he owe you?"

Nia, who had already switched to fully automatic mode, had to stop and then retrieve paper and pen from the bedside table.

"A total of forty raq, which is the savings of me, my son and son-in-law."

"Why did you give him so much money?" Ron asked, puzzled.

“Well, this is an investment in an informal savings plan. Shahih said he has some great investments in his shop with profits as high as 25%.”

So-called informal savings plans refer to financial investments made through informal channels, including informal banks, insurance, stocks, bonds, funds, and gambling products.

These private financing projects are very active in India, especially in Mumbai, where they can be found on every street, with investments starting from just a few hundred rupees.

The Sahara Group's Ponzi scheme in Uttar Pradesh is an example of this, and it has attracted a large number of participants.

So you can't get your principal back now?

"Yes, it's been overdue for three months. He's rich; he recently bought a new sports car."

What's the name of his shop?

"Ganesha's financial management".

"The one east of Dharavi?"

"Yes Yes."

Ron took out his notebook and wrote it down, placing it on Nia's snowflakes. Oops, it kept wobbling, making his handwriting look like a dog's scribbles.

“I know that man. He’s heavily in debt, with two hundred million rupees on record. I’ll make him pay back your money first.”

However, that's assuming everything you say is true. I'll have someone investigate; you know the extent of my capabilities.

"Of course, you can make your own judgment."

“Indeed.” Ron sighed contentedly.

Nia is in the prime of her youth, full of energy, and hasn't stopped since.

"Since you're the judge, let's talk about the recent antitrust case. Have you seen the news in the newspapers?"

"Yes."

“All of Suer Electric’s parts are produced locally. We sell at low prices, but without hurting our costs. People still benefit. Is this considered dumping?”

"of course not."

"Are the accusations made by the home appliance industry association against Suer Electric valid?"

"That's nonsense; they're not patriotic."

"So what does the Mumbai Supreme Court plan to do?"

“I will dismiss their lawsuit.”

What if they appeal again?

"Legal resources are scarce in Mumbai, and we can't waste them on such trivial matters."

“Not bad.” Ron smiled with satisfaction.

See, it's all resolved. Chandani's talk that day was all nonsense; Ron is an outlaw, and he hasn't realized that yet.

That phone call just now felt like a conversation between two judges. One was a real judge, and the other was a judge within a parallel judicial system.

More precisely, it is a dialogue between the judge and the person seeking help.

“Two hundred million rupees are on record,” the more powerful judge said after instructing the clerk to hand over the case file.

The person seeking help spoke respectfully to the judge, saying, "You have your own judgment."

The Supreme Court judge reprimanded him for tolerating the misconduct of the civil society association, but also comforted him: "I will make him return your money first."

In this particular case, two judgments have taken effect and will be enforced immediately.

Debtors who refuse to pay their debts will repay the funds, and baseless lawsuits will be dismissed.

Is this processing efficiency not faster than that of the Supreme Court in Mumbai?
Ron was in high spirits. He picked up Nia and carried her to the window on the balcony to enjoy the view.

Outside lies the vast Arabian Sea, while below lies a narrow, rippling inland sea, each with its own unique charm.

Johnny shaved, took a shower, changed into new clothes, and had a hearty meal in a secluded apartment in Mumbai.

This was a house he had asked his girlfriend, Parvati, to rent. Nobody knew, and nobody knew he had returned to Mumbai.

While Parvati was frying omelets outside, Johnny took the opportunity to empty the money out of his travel bag.

He had already spent some of the one million rupees; he bought a used taxi and several fake passports.

The biggest expense was contacting a friend from his old days in the slums. He gave each of them 60,000 rupees to work for him for the next week, available whenever he needed them.

These friends weren't from the Had Khan gang; they were Johnny's personal acquaintances.

"What important thing do you have to do next?" Parvati asked after Johnny put the last bit of food into his mouth.

"There's a score to settle. If I don't come back, you can take the money from the bed."

"What?" She was stunned.

“You don’t need to persuade me. I know exactly what I’m doing, and I have to do it,” Johnny said firmly.

“If my future husband is destined to go down this path, then let him go for it,” Parvati suddenly stopped trying to persuade him.

From the very first day they started dating, Parvati knew what Johnny did.

In Mumbai, whether you like it or not, gangs will always have some connection to your life, especially for the poor.

People have long been aware of this, both regarding life and death.

Johnny left, met up with his friends on a street corner, and then waited for Nagil and Gani at a bar.

They whispered among themselves, then distributed several bundles of parcels before getting into a taxi and heading towards a mansion in central Mumbai.

The heads of several of Hadhan's major gangs all own mansions in Mumbai, but they do not live together.

Some are in southern Mumbai, some in Bandra in the west, and some in Antares in the central region.

Johnny and his companions didn't want to attract attention, so they took a taxi to avoid being noticed.

They got out of the car smoothly in front of the house next to the mansion, where two burly men were patrolling the steps.

The other person recognized Johnny and even reached out to greet them.

"How is Hadbay?" the two inquired.

“Very good.” Johnny shook their hands.

Several trusted henchmen circled behind the two men and, before they could react, slit their throats.

The body was dragged inside the door, and everything happened silently.

Beneath this house lies a long underground factory that connects to the mansion next door.

This is where Pant usually manufactures his illicit drugs to make huge profits.

(End of this chapter)