I am a master in India

Chapter 337 Entering the City
New Delhi is unbelievably beautiful! Even more beautiful than Lucknow!
Everywhere there are glass curtain walls, entire panes of glass, reflecting Muna's shadow.

A clean white shirt, well-fitting trousers and shoes—Muna had never seen herself look so dashing, like a senior employee in a bank building.

He kept telling himself that he was already a high-ranking minister. He didn't need to care about other people's opinions and could walk into any glass-walled building with his head held high.

But Muna was still very guilty. Just a few months ago, he was a servant, and he hadn't even been a minister for two months.

It still feels a bit awkward to expect him to stand tall and proud like those well-dressed elites.

After hesitating for a while, Muna decided to go to the nearby shopping mall.

Just as the gentleman said, only after seeing the dazzling world outside can he have the confidence to face anyone.

However, before he could take a step, his assistant, Kishang, a young man from Kana Village, spoke up.

"Sir, I'll go and find out some information first." He was eager to try.

Muna paused slightly. "Don't cause trouble."

"Yes, sir."

Kishan rushed forward excitedly, while Muna stood on the street, surveying everything in New Delhi.

Before he knew it, he was being addressed as "Sir" by others; it was truly a magical title.

It cured Muna of his timidity, cautiousness, and fearlessness, and taught him how to stand tall and be assertive.

A dozen or so drivers who looked like servants were waiting outside the mall. Their masters were shopping inside, and the drivers weren't allowed to go in, even though no one had explicitly told them so.

These people formed a circle around the parking lot, chatting and smoking, with some occasionally spitting out red betel nut residue.

Kishang, dressed in a khaki uniform, shamelessly approached.

"What do you want, you country rat?" the leader asked.

"Can I ask you a question?" Kishan wasn't angry.

"No problem, ask away. You know I'm always ready to answer, you country bumpkin."

"This building, the one they call a shopping mall, the one with the posters of beautiful women hanging up, it sells things, right?"

"Yes."

"Anyone can come in?"

"What, you want to go in?"

“Is that not allowed? My master wants to buy something,” Kishang said matter-of-factly.

The group burst into laughter, laughing uncontrollably.

“Listen, you country rat. Your master may be able to get in, but you absolutely cannot.”

"why?"

"You, as a servant, don't even know this? How can you think that wearing a uniform means you can move freely?"

They started laughing again, saying that Kissang looked like a monkey in his uniform, and that the drivers in the city didn't wear uniforms.

However, after only a few words, everyone's attention shifted to the shopping mall.

What happened over there? Actually, nothing much. This kind of thing happened a lot when shopping malls first appeared. Newspapers even reported on it many times with headlines like "Does the shopping mall in the new India have no place for the poor?"

The shopping mall's glass doors were open, but those who wanted to enter couldn't get in; the mall's security guards stopped them.

The gatekeeper pointed at his feet with his stick and shook his head. This man was wearing sandals, as were the driver and servants.

Only people wearing leather shoes are allowed into the shopping center, so that person was stopped.

In this situation, nine out of ten people would turn around and walk away. But this person in sandals suddenly snapped: "Am I not a human being?"

He was so excited that spittle flew everywhere and his knees trembled slightly.

A driver whistled, and the cleaners sweeping the shopping mall plaza stopped sweeping and watched them.

For a moment, it looked like the man was about to punch the security guard, but in the end he turned and left.

“That guy’s got guts,” one driver said. “If we were all like him, India would be ours. Those guys would only be good for shining our shoes.”

Then the drivers formed a circle again and continued to brag and joke around.

In the distance, Muna looked down at his new shoes, which he had bought in Lucknow, personally selected for him by his master!

On his drive to New Delhi, he could feel the cotton lining inside his shoes enveloping his feet, which felt very comfortable.

Muna walked to the entrance of the shopping mall and glanced at the doorman. For a moment, he almost turned around and left.

He was wearing a brand-new, clean white shirt, Kulta trousers commonly seen on Indian politicians, and high-end leather shoes with linings.

But Muna was still worried; he thought the gatekeeper at the front door would definitely stop him and say, "You can't come in."

In the end, he might get caught and kicked out, get slapped a few times, and be publicly humiliated.

Muna was torn between his inner turmoil and his outward movements, but his feet kept moving. He climbed the steps one by one, approaching the glass doors of the shopping mall.

He went in! The security guard didn't even look at him!
Even the drivers and servants nearby didn't notice this place, except for Kishang.

Muna was already inside the mall, but he hadn't quite let his guard down. He had a feeling someone was going to yell, "Hey! That guy used to be a servant! What's he doing here?"

There were security guards in gray uniforms on every floor of the mall, and Muna felt like they were all watching him.

The feeling was like a fugitive being suddenly pushed into the street. Even the casual glances from passersby made him feel extremely uncomfortable.

But he did come in eventually, and for the first time, he experienced everything in the mall.

The air was filled with the scent of perfume, everything was opulent and magnificent, and cool air blew from the air conditioner. Nobody paid him any attention.

He saw elevators that looked like they were made of pure gold going up and down, and he also saw the glass curtain walls of the shops, with huge photos of handsome European men and beautiful women hanging on each wall.

How wonderful it would be if Kishan could see this scene!

Kishan was chatting with the group of drivers outside, and he quickly blended in with the servants and drivers.

"How much salary do you think you'll get, you country bumpkin?"

"It's enough to live on. I'm quite happy."

"You don't want to tell me, do you, you country rat? Good boy. Loyal to your master. Do you like Derry?"

"like."

"Ha! Don't lie, you idiot. I know you always get lost, you must really hate this city!"

As he spoke, he reached out to pat Kishang, but Kishang twisted his body backward, not wanting him to touch him.

The man had a skin condition called vitiligo. On his face, which was as black as coal, the vitiligo had turned his lips a bright pink.

Ji Shang has seen this skin disease before; many rural people suffer from vitiligo.

He didn't know how they got the disease, but once they got it, their originally dark brown skin would gradually turn pink.

Nine out of ten cases involved a boy who developed pink spots on his nose or cheek, resembling a shining star.

Or a red spot appears on the forehead, as if it has been scalded by boiling water.

However, some people's entire bodies changed color. When you meet one on the street, wow! Is that an American?

You'll stop and stare at him curiously, unable to resist the urge to get closer and touch him. You'll then realize that he's no different from us, except that he's contracted this terrible disease.

Take this driver, for example; only his lips changed color, like a circus clown wearing lipstick.

Ki-sang felt nauseous just looking at his face, but he was the only one among the drivers who was willing to talk to Ki-sang about anything, so the two of them stood close together.

Since the driver with vitiligo lips also came from a filthy place, he immediately guessed Kishan's origins and gave him a good lesson, telling him how to survive in Delhi without having to crawl on the roof of a bus and be sent back to his hometown in disgrace.

"My main impression of Delhi is that the roads are good but the people are bad, and the police are extremely corrupt. If they find you're not wearing a seatbelt, they'll extort 100 rupees from you."

Our masters aren't much better; their late-night revelry is our nightmare.

If you sleep in a car, mosquitoes can eat you alive. If they're malaria-carrying mosquitoes, that's one thing, but you'll be suffering from malaria for a week or two.

But if you encounter a mosquito that transmits dengue fever, you're doomed.

You were asleep until 2 a.m. when they came back, smashed your car window and yelled at you to wake you up, then drove home.

They reek of alcohol and fart constantly; you'll be overwhelmed by the smell the whole way.

January is the coldest month, so if you know they're going to a late-night party, it's best to bring a blanket—it'll keep you warm and protect you from mosquitoes.

If you get really bored waiting in the car, you'd better bring a book or something to read. You should be able to read, right? Reading in the car is definitely a comfortable thing to do.

As he spoke, he handed Kishang a magazine. The cover featured a blonde woman in a bikini cowering in front of a man.

Murder Weekly, priced at 4.5 rupees, exclusively presents true stories: "Beautiful bodies should never be wasted!" Murder, rape, revenge!
Before Kishan could even take it, Muna appeared at the entrance of the shopping mall.

Still, nobody paid any attention to him; the security guard even saluted him!
“Sir.” Kissang immediately jogged over.

"Let's go." Muna let out a sigh of relief, a smile on her face.

Kishan wanted to ask what was in the mall, but when he saw the expression on Muna's face, he stopped.

How can I describe that expression?
Yeah, it's like a country bumpkin from the very bottom of a filthy land suddenly spending a whole night with a white Western woman!

Right, that is it.

Kishang became increasingly curious about the things in the mall; he had never been to such a place before.

After a small adventure on the streets of New Delhi, Muna began following Ron to visit the circular rooftops near Mount Resina.

Those sitting inside are all important figures in the country—the president, the prime minister, ministers, and officials—who may be discussing national affairs, drafting official documents, and reviewing files.

One person said, "Allow another 500 million rupees to build a dam in that area!"

The one said, "Alright! Let's launch an attack on Barbaboo!"

Things are certainly not that simple, but they're not that complicated either.

Muna felt that the officials in New Delhi were no different from those in Uttar Pradesh, except that they were a bit fatter and bigger.

Now, following Mr. Sue, he will witness for the first time the code of conduct of New Delhi officials.

(End of this chapter)