I am a master in India

Chapter 328 Innocence
With the general election about to enter the voting stage, all political parties are busy with their final push.

The Progressive Party was no exception; after Muna finished his speech in the South Pufan district, he began his offensive northward.

With the financial support provided by Ron, the Progressive Party quickly gained a foothold in the East.

The strategy of lower castes sticking together is successful, as people naturally tend to gravitate towards those of their own caste.

From its inception, the Progressive Party adopted a strategy of uniting the majority.

Anyone from a lower caste, whether Shudra or Dalit, is a target for the Progressive Party.

The Harvi caste is not numerically dominant and cannot form its own distinct lineage like the Yadav, so it has to take an open approach.

In an effort to win more votes, Muna even selected Dalit as her assistant.

Whenever he gave a speech in Dalit village, he would emphasize introducing his untouchable companions.

He knew how to assess situations and how to win people's hearts. The knowledge from books taught him a lot.

A few days before the election, Ron specifically summoned his second uncle, Adiyah, and Muna to analyze their support rates in the Pufancha district.

Needless to say, all twenty constituencies south of Varanasi are occupied by their own people.

The eastern Chanda-Uli district has four constituencies, two of which accepted the goodwill of the Surjah.

That godforsaken place was rife with narcotics and opium. Muna gave speeches there, and no matter how much he tried to rouse the people, they remained numb, like walking corpses.

The local tyrant, Shabnan, used these drugs to control almost half of Changda Uli.

Fortunately, the destruction of Tripati and Tiraka made him realize that things were going badly, and he fled to a foreign land early on.

Otherwise, it would have been really difficult for Ron to win over the local candidates in those four constituencies.

He was determined to conquer the four counties in the southern part of Pufancha District. As for the local gang leader of Changdawuli, he'd deal with him later.

With the general election approaching, it is not advisable to use firearms on a large scale, otherwise other parties will inevitably launch a coordinated attack.

Politics is such a complicated thing. There are some things that everyone understands, but we still have to put on a show.

This is the extent of the Sur family's control in the southeastern region, including 12 districts in the central and northern parts of Pufancha district, totaling 93 constituencies.

Only six constituencies have explicitly stated that they are joining their camp, so there is still a long way to go.

However, for the Surjah family, who were participating in politics on a large scale for the first time, this was already quite good; they were able to control 30 constituencies.

The Pufancha district has only 117 seats in total, and the Suer family directly occupies a quarter of them, so no one dares to underestimate them.

What will Pufancha District be like in a few more years? The thought is terrifying.

Of course, no one can say for sure what the outcome will be before the election is over.

Just to be on the safe side, Ron is also prepared to use his financial power to bribe voters!
“What do you think voters in the Pufancha district prefer?” he asked.

"Money!" Adiya insisted.

"Okay, everyone likes money, but you can't just throw money around, can you?"

"Why not? Those constituencies in the north are too far from us. Voters won't easily switch sides without sufficient incentives."

"So how many people do you think are appropriate to give money to? And how can you guarantee that they won't vote for other people after they take the money?"

“It’s simple,” Adiya said, knowing exactly what to do. “We send 30% of the promised amount the day before the election, and then pay the remaining 70% after the election.”

Mortgage payments? Futures bribery? Ron's expression was strange.

“Actually, there’s no need to worry about that at all. After Tripati and Tiraka’s forces were wiped out, no one will dare to take the money from the Suer family and not do their job,” Adiya added.

Those two mob bosses died a worthy death; they became the best stepping stones for the Sue family to climb the social ladder.

There are no secrets in the East; everyone knows why those two died.

It's true that they are staunch supporters of the current Chief Minister, but so what? Even the Chief Minister can't do anything about the Sur family.

If any of the voters are tired of living, they can simply take the money and do nothing.

Adiya believes that simply giving money is simple and efficient.

"Second Uncle, how much money do you think is appropriate?" To be honest, Ron was actually considering it.

“One hundred rupees per household, and we will send it to 100,000 households, which can basically cover those six constituencies.”

India has a large population, with each household consisting of seven or eight people. Of these 100,000 households, at least 500,000 to 600,000 are eligible adults.

The northern part of Pufancha district happens to be relatively underdeveloped, with each constituency having only about 100,000 people, so this money is just right.

“Ten million rupees, six seats, not bad.” Ron nodded.

The north is not their base of operations, and for the time being, they can only rely on money to maintain their network of patronage.

"We should send something to the other constituencies as well."

“In rural areas, we send seeds, fertilizer, and cattle; for women, we send saris. If all else fails, we can help them find jobs.”

"Second Uncle, make a list, and we'll go to buy the goods tomorrow and deliver them to your door the night before the vote."

“Okay, I’ll take care of this.” Adiya had been a municipal councilor, so he had some organizational skills.

"Muna, what are your thoughts on the constituencies in the south?"

"Sir, we don't need large-scale bribery in the south. We just need to focus on a few key areas."

"How so?" Ron asked with interest.

"Most poor people are controlled by a minority. Once you get the minority under control, you don't have to worry about the rest."

Ron and Adiya exchanged a glance, both seeing the surprise in each other's eyes.

"Alright, the constituency near Sumbadra is yours."

"Yes, sir."

Muna was very experienced in dealing with the grassroots; he had experienced several such elections as a child. After going through the campaign strategy briefly, Ron and his team split up to carry out their respective tasks.

My second uncle, Adiya, is going to take charge of things in Varanasi. All eight constituency candidates are relatives and friends of the Sur family.

Muna is in charge of the constituency of Sonbadra, where the situation is similar to that of Kana village.

As for Mirzabul, Ron had already made it as impregnable as an ironclad fortress. There was no need to worry about voting or anything like that.

Ron himself wasn't idle either; he was going to Lucknow to talk to the BJP and the Socialist Party about things after the election.

Time flies, and two days before the election, the Progressive Party held its last rally in Sumbadra.

As usual, Muna went up to give a speech, full of fighting spirit and his language was very persuasive.

After the rally ended, the priests performed a special ritual to pray for the Progressive Party's victory.

They distributed mutton bilani dishes to everyone on paper plates in front of the temple, and there was also free spirits in the evening.

The next morning, a large group of policemen arrived menacingly, kicking up dust.

Upon entering the village, a police officer loudly read out the voting instructions at the market.

The general idea is that whatever they did was for the good of the villagers.

The enemies of the great Progressive Party are trying to steal the election victory from us poor people.

They wanted to take away the rights of us poor people, but the great Progressives mercifully broke the chains for the poor.

But they are delusional enough to put chains and shackles back on the poor, do you understand?

After saying that, the police officers drove off, kicking up a cloud of dust behind them.

In the evening, the villagers gathered together and whispered among themselves.

"What's with this Progressive Party? I've never heard of it before."

"Who knows, it's all the same anyway. I've seen twelve elections: five national elections, five state elections, and two regional elections. In all twelve of them, someone else voted for me."

“I heard that in another India, the one in the newspapers, people vote freely. Isn’t that amazing?”

The villagers were talking about the election, but they didn't care about the results at all. Because they knew it had nothing to do with them.

Finally, the day of voting in Sonbadra arrived. A ray of sunlight pierced through the darkness, bringing warmth to the coal-smoke-covered Sonbadra.

The walls of the village square were covered with slogans and posters of the Progressive Party.

The so-called polling station was just a table, with Muna himself in charge, hammering Progressive Party flags onto the wall.

Following the instructions of the landlords or other managers, the villagers cast their votes for the Progressive Party.

It was a bright yellow box with a sun printed on it; it was so eye-catching that you couldn't mistake it for anything else.

Suddenly, one of the rickshaw pullers broke away from the group and walked straight to the side.

He was short, dark-skinned, and always kept a low profile.

I don't know what crazy thing happened to her today.

A group of rickshaw pullers surrounded him, trying to dissuade him, but it was all just for show.

They've seen this kind of thing before, and they know that stopping him now is pointless.

The rickshaw driver claimed to be a citizen of democratic India and entitled to vote freely.

Yes, that's what he thought. He declared that he would leave the defiled land and become a free Uttar Pradeshman from that day forward.

He strode toward the polling station in the square, shouting as he went, "I should stand up against the rich, isn't that what they've always been saying?"

When he arrived at the polling station, the supporters of the great Progressive Party had already written the voting results on the blackboard outside:
They received a total of 2,341 votes at this polling station.

Everyone cast their votes for the great Progressive Party, even as many villagers were still in line.

What's the difference? Whether they vote or not, the result is the same.

Muna climbed the ladder and nailed the flag of the great Progressive Party to the wall.

The flag bore the slogan: Warmest congratulations to the great Progressive Party for their resounding victory in Mangal!
Upon seeing the rickshaw driver, Muna dropped the hammer, nails, and flag he was holding.

"What are you doing here?"

“Vote,” he roared. “Isn’t today an election?”

“You’ve already cast your ballot,” Muna said, looking at him.

"No, no! I want to vote in person; it's my right!"

"You live in India, why do you still have such naive ideas?"

"India is independent now, and we have the right to vote freely!"

“Independence?” Muna scoffed. “Perhaps not being independent is better for everyone.”

This country is like a giant zoo. After the British left, the politicians in Delhi opened the zoo's cages.

Birds and beasts fled their enclosures, attacking each other in a life-or-death struggle; the law of the jungle replaced the law of the zoo.

The most ferocious and ravenous animals devoured the others, their bellies swelling day by day.

The size of your belly can explain everything today. Whether you are a woman, a herdsman, or a commoner, as long as your belly is big enough, you will speak with confidence.

In short, there are only two castes in India today: the big-bellied and the small-bellied.

It's either eat people or be eaten.

Muna's eyes turned cold; this time, he wouldn't let his "candy shop" be taken away again.

He waved his hand, and two policemen rushed over from behind.

(End of this chapter)