I am a master in India

Chapter 3 Fat Sheep
"Wait a minute, Ron, did you guys reach some kind of agreement behind my back?" Anand's shrewd eyes flickered on his round face.

"This gentleman hired me as his guide during his time in Bombay."

“What?!” Anand screamed. “You can’t do this. I was the one who touched his luggage first! He’s my guest!”

"Don't get excited," Ron patted his shoulder calmly. "This was Mr. Smith's initiative. If you don't believe me, ask him."

Smith, who was standing next to him, saw Anand's face turn red and subconsciously took a step behind Ron, while making up his mind to stay away from this manic patient.

Poor Anand was so broken that he had to put on his brightest smile to win over customers, but Smith ignored him completely.

"Ron," Anand said with a sad face, "I won't cheat you again. I'll give you half of the 20 rupees I owed you last time. Can you give me this fat sheep?"

"It's not a question of whether to let him go or not. Mr. Smith needs a guide who is fluent in English and familiar with the local conditions in Mumbai."

"I know Mumbai best. I know every nook and cranny here like the back of my hand! I know what to see and what not to see. I can even show you some extra exciting stuff."

"Tell me more about the exciting stuff." Ron's curiosity was aroused.

"For example, the Whore Street and Leopold's Bar. Those who frequent them are all very successful people. Selling silver, flying leaf, lending money at high interest rates, black market transactions, smuggling, forging passports, and -"

"Stop!" Ron had to reach out and interrupt him. "Mr. Smith is already retired. He probably can't do anything about women."

"That's it."

"Okay, I see."

Ron waved, then turned back to Smith.

"This guy's name is Anand, he's my friend. He didn't mean any harm, it was just a misunderstanding due to language barrier.

But this guy has a rickshaw, and he can take us to see the most charming sights of Mumbai without reservation, such as the India Gate, the Gandhi Museum, the Mahalakshmi Temple, and the Elephanta Caves.

"Oh, that sounds good." Smith nodded frequently. This was exactly why he came to Mumbai.

He had seen many big cities in Europe, and the unique cultural style of India fascinated him. As an art practitioner, he needed to visit these places.

“So I thought it would be more interesting to take a rickshaw and savor Mumbai at a leisurely pace?”

"Good idea." Smith agreed with his suggestion.

Ron nodded gentlemanly, then turned around with a smile, "Do I need you, Anand?"

"Absolutely!" Anand exclaimed. "You need me so much, I almost cry for your situation! Without the wonderful me by your side, who knows what terrible things would happen to you!"

“And where’s your rickshaw?”

"Coming right up!" Anand shouted, and immediately rushed out of the platform and rushed outside the train station.

When Ron helped Smith carry the luggage out, Anand's rickshaw was already parked at the door, and it was very clean.

Without Ron's invitation, he busied himself with arranging the luggage and setting up the awning, doing it very efficiently.

"Mr. Smith, shall we go back to the hotel first?" As the guide, Ron also got on the back seat without hesitation.

"Is there any place worth visiting along the way? I prefer to visit the handicraft market." Smith was in high spirits and a little impatient.

"Then go to Colaba Market. You'll find everything from clothing and accessories to souvenirs and handicrafts. Most importantly, there's a Mondja Café there, which serves authentic Indian cuisine."

"Haha, I can't wait."

After coaxing Smith into submission with a few words, Ron switched from English to Malayalam.

“Anand, go to Colaba market.”

"Wait, what were you talking about just now?" Anand, who didn't understand, scratched his head and ears while pedaling his bike.

His English vocabulary only consists of "Yes, No, OK, No Problem".

"That's not important. Answer me a question first."

"what?"

“Do you know anyone in the Colaba market?”

"Of course, I know every store and every owner there!"

"Very good!" Ron nodded with satisfaction. "When you get there, find someone you trust and tell them that I'll get a 20% commission on every purchase made by the customers I bring today!"

"This is impossible! Ron, it's crazy!" Anand was so shocked by his big appetite that he even forgot to keep pedaling with his short legs.

"Nothing is impossible. Or I can take Mr. Smith to visit other people's stores. The choice is ours. You can tell them what I said."

"But this commission is really too high." Anand looked troubled.

"Don't think I don't know the huge profits from those handicrafts. They are all made by hand, with almost no cost. And don't mention labor to me. The least valuable thing in India is people."

Anand opened his mouth, then nodded dejectedly. "Okay, I'll try."

Ron directly raised the commission to 20%. So how should he quote the price as a middleman?

23%, or 25%? It can't be 30%, those old guys will spit in his face.

Ignoring Anand's wandering eyes, Ron began to attentively introduce the scenery along the way to Smith.

Although he wasn't particularly familiar with Mumbai, he remembered a great deal. It was more than enough to fool a foreigner. Smith, moreover, recognized Ron's scholarly air. He considered it a noble quality, while Anand, a philistine and cunning man, was something he loathed.

When we arrived at the Colaba Market, Ron began to introduce the handicrafts here, including amulets, sculptures, masks, and temple models, and he explained each one in detail.

Anand, who had quietly disappeared during this period, had already planned the next move with his acquaintances.

They are well aware of these tricks. After all, as the largest fraud country in later generations, the third brother's talent in this area is top-notch.

Ron first got Smith to tell him what he might be interested in, and then chose a suitable store based on the list Anand handed him.

Precise delivery, every move is accurate.

Smith did not disappoint them. This wealthy London gentleman had great interest in a wide range of handicrafts.

In order to reassure him, Ron also helped to bargain, and always argued with the store owner until they were red in the face.

He could bargain down the price of something that others offered at 2000 rupees to 500 rupees.

It’s so worry-free, it’s worth hiring this guide!
Smith waved his hand and bought it!
One pound can be exchanged for 1 rupees, which is a drop in the bucket for him.

Even Smith felt that prices in India were too cheap and he wanted to buy everything he saw.

The result was that two hours later, Ron and Anand were holding a big bag full of things.

Smith, who is addicted to shopping, even collected an Indian lunch box.

Fortunately, the old man was tired after walking around for half a day and was ready to go back to the hotel to rest.

"Ron, all I want now is a shower and some sleep, so let's take a taxi to the hotel."

"No problem." Ron agreed and took Anandra aside while hailing a taxi.

"This is the bill I just wrote down. Go collect it now, and I'll pick it up from you this afternoon."

"Don't worry, I've made a note of it too." Anand cared more about this matter than Ron.

Saint, Anand was very excited at this moment. Today's order was enough to last for half a year!
"OK, I'll go see Mr. Smith off now."

The taxi made the rest of the journey faster, and when they arrived at the hotel, Smith even invited Ron to have lunch with him.

"I am very happy today, and I hope we can have an even more pleasant journey tomorrow."

As he said this, Smith handed him a £20 note as a tip.

"Of course, I'll pick you up at the hotel entrance at 8 o'clock tomorrow morning."

Damn, the British are so rich. They spend hundreds of rupees at a time, which is more than the money for hiring him as a guide.

After receiving the tip and saying goodbye to Smith in a hurry, Ron rushed to Victoria Station without stopping.

He calculated the time and it should not be four hours yet.

When I stood on the platform again, a whistle sounded from a distance.

It was very hot in Mumbai at around two o'clock in the afternoon. After rushing all the way, Ron bought two bottles of Indian ice cola as a luxury.

This time he learned his lesson and just held up a sign and waited in the shade.

He didn't want to experience the lingering smell of curry again.

But when the crowd dispersed, it seemed that the train still had no one waiting for him.

Is it too late again? Ron looked confused.

He couldn't be late twice in a row, so he decided to go and ask again.

The moment Ron turned around, a figure wrapped in a light blue sari was standing there.

She was wearing a veil, had a slender figure, shoulder-length black hair, and from her exposed wrists, her skin was fair.

"Who are you?" Ron seemed to realize something.

The girl took off her veil, revealing her delicate face that was both fragile and charming, her bright and captivating green eyes filled with smiles.

"Baba~"

"What?!" Ron, who was immersed in it, suddenly shuddered.

"What's wrong?" Nia looked at him in confusion.

"What did you just call me?"

"Baba is a special honorific in Hindi. It's a respectful title for teachers, saints, and very powerful people, and of course, it also includes the master."

Nia didn't know why Ron asked this, he should know this.

"If the master doesn't like it, I can change the name?"

"No! You should just call me dad~"

Ron refused righteously, but the smile on his face became more and more perverted.

(End of this chapter)