I am a master in India

Chapter 288 Johnny
Judge Chargé's initial investment, which was supposed to be lost, was quickly returned intact.

This efficiency is faster than the Supreme Court's judgment taking effect, and the four million rupees were not reduced by a single cent.

Of course, don't even think about interest; Chargi wasn't that greedy.

Being able to get your money back is already a stroke of luck.

The criminal gangs in Mumbai are deeply entrenched, and judges are just ordinary people who are slightly troublesome to them.

With the judicial system in disarray, the authority of judges has vanished.

Instead, those who wield violence become the judges; they are the judges of Mumbai, such as the gangsters and Ron.

In gratitude for his generous assistance, the antitrust case against Suer Electric was rejected outright, failing even at the local court level.

A proud example of domestically produced goods has been falsely accused of dumping at low prices.

Bullshit!

Suer appliances are clearly a blessing, creating hundreds of thousands, even millions, of middle-class families.

As for the procedural justice that some media outlets keep talking about, ha, I'll laugh at your law!

In India, when your power expands to a certain extent, you can really do whatever you want.

Well, Ron is still a bit short, but ordinary lawsuits won't affect him anymore.

The anti-monopoly lawsuit initiated by the home appliance industry association was dropped in less than two months after it caused a great stir.

The only impact was that Sull televisions became scarce again.

A monthly production capacity of 20 units was simply not enough, so all the workshop workers worked in two shifts, burying themselves in their work for two months.

The Mumbai factory alone shipped 50 units, which slightly quelled consumer dissatisfaction.

In fact, Suer Electric has never stopped expanding its production capacity, and it is running at a frantic pace, adding two production lines almost every month.

By the end of May, the Mumbai factory had more than 20 final assembly lines, with a monthly production capacity of 300,000 units operating on two shifts.

The 14-inch black and white TVs have the most lines, with twelve. The 18-inch black and white and color TVs each have four lines.

This frenzied pace of expansion wouldn't be considered bad even by the standards of Tokyo University.

Ron has spent over 30 million US dollars, totaling 1 billion rupees, on this project.

However, he earned even more, with a net profit of 2 million rupees per month in January, which climbed to 5 million rupees in March.

In April and May, taking advantage of the anti-monopoly case, he made a one-time profit of 10 billion rupees.

After deducting investments in equipment and the construction of various factories, Ron still has 12 billion rupees in his pocket.

Before the market becomes saturated, the Mumbai factory will generate approximately 6 million rupees in profit each month.

When rice cookers and juicers hit the market next month, there might be another surge in demand.

With money in hand, Ron started thinking about his port business again.

That was a truly massive investment; the initial engineering costs alone amounted to 30 billion rupees.

Ron's money is still not enough.

However, if we take into account the loan provided by his "mother," the first phase of the project shouldn't be a problem.

He plans to visit the Tamil community again in a while to check on the progress of the factory and port construction.

Rice cookers and juicers are about to be available in Mumbai, and he wants to stay a few more days.

These two small appliances have low profit margins, but they have a broad market and will become essential products in the future.

As long as you can make money, there's no business you can't do.

Just as Ron was studying Sull Electric's strategy for next year, Johnny came to see him.

They didn't go far, just strolling along the coastline south of the Malabar Mountains.

The large black rocks, like tree stumps, were submerged in the sea. The two of them simply chose the largest one to sit on, leaned back, supported themselves with their arms, and gazed at the sea.

"All done?" Ron squinted involuntarily as the sea breeze blew.

"Six are dead," Johnny said calmly.

He wore a striped shirt, and his physique had returned to its former robust state. He had become quieter and more aloof.

Is it Pant?

"You guessed it?" Johnny turned his head.

“Just a week before you came back, he suddenly called me and asked if I was interested in continuing the pharmaceutical business.”

"Perhaps he foresaw this day."

"Who knows? But I stopped doing that kind of business a long time ago."

“Ron, you’re the most shrewd businessman I’ve ever met. This isn’t sarcasm; you’re a true businessman.”

“Even if you call me a Vaishya, I won’t be angry,” Ron laughed.

Johnny smiled too; for the first time, his cold, cruel face softened.

"Of course, I prefer you to say I'm an entrepreneur."

“I’ve got it,” the burly man grinned.

The two sat on the rock, smiling, watching the waves crash against the dark rocky shore and then break apart.

Johnny licked his lips, took out a thread to tie a small hand-rolled cigarette, and handed it over.

Ron waved his hand, indicating that he didn't need to.

He put it in his mouth himself, then lit it. Wisps of smoke drifted away in the sea breeze, disappearing in an instant.

"Thank you, Ron."

“If you consider Hadhan as family, then seeking revenge is perfectly justifiable.”

“You know what? I was brought into this world right there, in the Naval District of Naval Forces. I mean conceived, not born,” Johnny said, pointing to the Mumbai Naval District.

An arc-shaped coastline separates them from Nagal. But looking straight across the small bay, houses, huts, and barracks are clearly visible.

“My mother was from Delhi, and her family was all Christians. They worked for the British and made a lot of money. But after independence, they lost their status and privileges. When my mother was fifteen, her family moved to Mumbai. My grandfather found work in the Admiralty as a clerk.”

They lived in a slum nearby, and my mother fell in love with a sailor, a tall young man from Punjab.

He had the most beautiful beard in all of Nagal, and my mother was kicked out of her home after she became pregnant with me.

She wanted to seek help from the sailor, my father. But he had left Nagar, and my mother never saw or heard from him again.

Johnny stopped, breathing through his nose, his lips tightly closed, squinting at the sparkling sea and the fresh sea breeze.

Behind them came the cacophony of the slums: vendors' cries, laundresses pounding clothes on stones, children playing, and arguing.

"She had a tough time, Ron. She was heavily pregnant when she was kicked out of the house."

She moved to the sidewalk neighborhood, across from the Claudeford Market area, dressed in a white sari as a widow, and pretended that she had a husband who was dead.

She had no choice but to be a widow for life, without even getting married.

She had only a small space on the sidewalk, a makeshift hut made of plastic sheets and two poles.

One end of the plastic panel is fixed to the wall, below a sign.

Did you know? That signboard was completely dilapidated, and only two small pieces of posters remained on the wall.

On one side is a small piece of a movie poster with the name 'Johnny' written on it.

Next to it, there was another, more eye-catching cigar advertisement poster.

Yes, you guessed it, only the word 'cigar' is clearly visible on it.

"Is that where your name comes from? Johnny Cigar?" Ron smiled.

"Yes, how about it?"

"I like it, it's very unique."

Johnny laughed; the name was indeed strange.

"You know, she was kicked out of her home by her parents, and my father abandoned her, so she refused to use those two surnames to name me even if it meant death."

As she struggled to give birth to me on the sidewalk, she kept staring at the words 'Johnny' and 'cigar.' She took it as a sign; she was a very, very stubborn woman.

“Good name, it suits you well.” Ron patted his broad shoulder.

"Thank goodness it's not an ad for laxatives or anything like that!" Johnny exclaimed, his mouth agape and spittle flying.

"And then?" Ron laughed.

“She died later,” Johnny sighed.

"Feel sorry."

"No, there's no need for that. She's a great person; she insisted on educating me when I was a child."

When I was eight years old, I did clerical work for all the businesses in the slums and filed taxes for every taxpayer.

I could have lived a comfortable life in the slums, been respected, and gotten married at fifteen, sixteen, or twenty.

I could have given her a good life, but she died, at the hands of a drunken bastard.

One night, the man broke into our little house. He tore at her clothes, and she resisted. He strangled her to death and then fled.

I remember what that person looked like, but I was too young to do anything but cry.

I hated my own powerlessness, so I stopped studying and started picking fights.

At first I always lost, but slowly I was able to win once or twice, and later no one in the slums could beat me.

When I was fourteen, I killed that drunkard. He had a wife and children, and they looked at me covered in blood in horror.

I took a step toward them, but a large hand landed on my shoulder. It was Hadhan, and he told me to come with him.

I started reading and writing again, this time he taught me. Besides that, there were also fighting techniques and killing techniques.

You know, Khad Khan used to have a really nice beard, the most handsome beard in South Mumbai.

He turned to face Ron, his eyes brimming with tears he was holding back.

"They're all dead, and now I'm all alone."

"This is very sad, but people always have to look forward. I think your mother also hopes that you will be happy."

“That’s right, I also have Parvati.” Johnny nodded.

"You also have many friends."

He turned his head and smiled, and Ron nodded in return.

The wind stirred the sea surface, raising intermittent white back waves.

"So you plan to take over Hadhan's business in the future?"

"It's not up to me to decide."

"What do you mean?" Ron turned his head.

"It's still the same federation system: me, Nagil, Gani, and two young men."

A new gangster organization has been born; this is Mumbai. Gangs will never disappear.

"How's the business?" Ron asked.

"We plan to stop using the drug, you know, it's no longer available. It's no longer needed in the Persian Gulf, and there's no reliable source after Pant's death."

Most importantly, he's manufacturing contraband in a factory in the basement of his mansion. That's unacceptable; we all hate that stuff.

“This is safer,” Ron agreed.

"At the travel agency," Johnny looked at him.

"It's business as usual."

"it is good."

Ron no longer cares about those small profits; what he values ​​is the distribution channels.

(End of this chapter)