I am a master in India

Chapter 371 First Marriage

Ron hadn't expected Kavia to be so wealthy; no wonder she could afford a BMW 7 Series.

This is a salt field spanning two to three thousand acres; it's incredibly vast.

The Sur family was considered wealthy in Uttar Pradesh, owning several hundred acres of farmland.

Compared to Kavia's family, it was nothing, nearly ten times smaller.

Moreover, the salt business is far more lucrative than farming; one is a businessman, the other a farmer.

Putting aside Ron's career, Kavia's family background is more illustrious than that of the Sur family.

Yes, he's out of his league.

The Kavia family's estate is very grand; even the road signs outside are carved from marble.

It took the car a full five minutes to drive from entering the gate to arriving at the lobby.

Needless to say, this easily surpasses Ron's old manor, a complete and utter annihilation.

Her parents and family members were waiting outside early in the morning; the whole family consisted of twenty or thirty people.

What else is there to say? Ron went over to each of the elders and lightly touched their feet.

You've gotten someone's daughter pregnant; you should at least show some respect.

Her parents didn't look too happy; as a Brahmin family, it was too shameful for her to have a child out of wedlock.

Despite living in the countryside, they wield considerable influence in Tamil Nadu, especially with Jayalalita serving as Chief Minister for so many years.

Fortunately, Ron was a responsible person. He immediately expressed his intention to marry Kavia, and his elders from his hometown were on their way.

As a super-rich businessman who has risen to prominence in the Indian subcontinent, to go to such lengths is quite a show of respect for them.

Jaya Lalita had done a lot of work with her brother and sister-in-law beforehand, and the whole family finally accepted their marriage.

Now that they met, Ron was so polite. The old couple's remaining dissatisfaction dissipated by more than half.

They smiled and patted Ron on the shoulder, as if to offer their blessings for the marriage.

The courtyard became lively as Kavia's brothers came over to greet Ron, while her sisters-in-law pulled Kavia aside to ask her all sorts of questions. Their gazes lingered on her lower abdomen, and they chatted and laughed from time to time, the whole family enjoying a harmonious time together.

Kavia has three older brothers, all of whom are married. They are noticeably more enthusiastic than the elderly couple and don't seem to care much about premarital pregnancy.

Being young, they have more open minds. Especially because of business, they travel around a lot and have seen a lot.

Besides, Ron came to our door with sincerity and even held the wedding in Tamil Nadu. Isn't that enough?
Well, they didn't know that Ron was also having a wedding in New Delhi.

Ron, Jaya Lalita, and Kavia all wisely refrained from mentioning this matter.

The Rigyan family were not nouveau riche from the countryside; they cared about their reputation.

Ron wasn't so magnanimous as to convince everyone to accept this marriage between someone from the north and south.

The older the family, the more they value their reputation.

If he dares to retaliate, no matter how rich you are, it won't work.

So, with the tacit understanding among the three of them, their wedding was quickly arranged in Kavia's hometown.

Everyone thought the sooner the better, otherwise, even the sari wouldn't be able to hide Kavia's growing belly.

Their forgiveness of Ron doesn't mean they're willing to publicize this "scandal."

So the wedding preparations were completed in just one week.

My second uncle's family, who had come all the way from Uttar Pradesh, also arrived in haste.

"Kid, are you sure this is okay?" Adiya pulled him aside.

"The most important people have been taken care of. Even if they find out in a few years, they won't have much of a reaction."

"After you get married, take good care of your family and stop fooling around outside."

"Yes Yes Yes."

"It's a good thing you don't go into politics, otherwise you would never become a member of parliament just because of this one thing."

"Second Uncle, you could learn from Aunt Kavia. If you were single, you might be able to become the Chief Minister."

"roll!"

If it weren't for the fact that he was about to become a groom, Adiya would have liked to smack him on the back of the head.

The wedding held at the manor was very lively; the several hectares of land were packed to capacity.

Okay, so-called "low-key" only applies relative to the city.

I called up all the distant relatives in the family, wow, several hundred people in total.

Add to that the people of some standing in the neighborhood, and there could be over a thousand people.

Ron and Kavia were both Brahmins, so their wedding naturally followed Hindu traditions.

Leaving aside the various tedious ceremonies, the most interesting thing was that Ron, as the groom, was dressed up completely as a traditional prince.

Not only did he wear a prince's hat, but he also rode a tall, white horse.

The car itself was decorated in a very luxurious manner.

Then, just like in the ancient wedding ceremony at Dongda University, Ron rode his horse to greet the bride who was sitting in the flower pavilion.

Kavia looked exceptionally beautiful today; even Ron was momentarily stunned by her beauty.

Why? Because she usually dresses in a Western style, and today is the first time Ron has seen her in traditional bridal attire.

She was shimmering with gold from head to toe, adorned with a dazzling array of jewelry. Coupled with her bright eyes, white teeth, and bold red lips, even a slight turn of her gaze could send your heart tumbling.

As a bride, she also had her hands painted with the traditional Indian women's makeup, hand-painted.

After the elders' blessing ceremony, the banquet descended into a sea of ​​joy.

How do Indians celebrate weddings? By dancing!
Everyone jumped, and they didn't jump haphazardly.

Sisters danced, brothers danced, sisters-in-law and aunts danced, and even Ron and Kavia wanted to dance.

The celebrations were unstoppable and continued late into the night.

The celebration continued on the second and third days, and people seemed to temporarily forget their mundane affairs, relaxing themselves completely and immersing themselves in the festivities.

After finally getting through the wedding, Ron lay in bed, too tired to move, let alone Kavia, who was heavily pregnant.

"How is it? Is the baby being naughty?" He gently stroked her belly.

"It's only been three months, it's not even fully formed yet," Kavia laughed, swatting his hand away. "At least it has a heartbeat, right?" He leaned closer to listen.

Actually, you can't hear anything at all. At this stage, it's still just a bud, unusually quiet.

"When are you going back?" Kavia ran her fingers through his hair.

"Ok?"

"Delhi".

"Let's talk about it in a month. If we're going back, we'll go back to Mumbai first."

"Are you going to stay in Tamil for that long?"

“Yes, spend time with the baby.” Ron kissed her belly.

Kavia paused, her eyes slightly reddening.

She felt wronged at heart.

"Take me to the salt field again tomorrow, I've never seen it before."

"it is good."

Ron was very busy; he received all sorts of phone calls every day—from friends, colleagues, officials, and family.
There are countless things to do, especially with so many businesses, they are almost never idle.

However, he remained in the countryside of Chennai and spent a full month with Kavia.

She was pregnant and couldn't travel far, so Ron treated it all as a honeymoon.

Every day, he would either stroll with her in the garden or go to the salt fields outside, just like a traditional young Tamil couple.

Kavia felt that this period was the happiest time of her life, even more relaxed than when she was in Mumbai.

Ron, whenever he had free time, would go into the salt fields; he was really curious about them.

He also gave many suggestions to Kavia's brothers, such as which processes were suitable for modern operations and how to increase production.

He started out in the factory business and has a thorough understanding of how to scale up operations.

Several of the brothers-in-law were tempted, but they were afraid of investing too much and ending up losing money.

Ron waved his hand, indicating that he would take charge of the renovation plan and equipment.

They can pay it back slowly once their profits increase.

Well, the main thing is to give your brother-in-law a little something first, so that when things come to light later, he won't forget about our past relationship.

This amount of money is nothing to him, not worth mentioning.

Besides, since her family is doing well, he, as her son-in-law, can have a much easier time.

Ron's biggest fear is that all his relatives will flock to Mumbai, asking him to help them find jobs.

And you know what? Given the family-oriented mentality of Indians, they consider this kind of thing perfectly normal.

Instead of worrying about these things, we should formalize the saltworks and turn them into a real business.

As things developed and they became incredibly busy, they no longer had time to fuss over those petty schemes.

Sure enough, the brothers-in-law were all smiles when they heard that Ron was going to take on all the responsibilities.

He called me "brother-in-law" all the time, and they were incredibly affectionate with me.

Oh my, Mr. Sue is my brother-in-law, the feeling is indescribable.

Besides advising the saltworks, Ron occasionally went out of curiosity to check out agriculture in Tamil Nadu.

Not all of Kavia's land is used for salt production; only the land near the sea is used.

Further in, the farmland is also used to grow crops. It's all rice, with almost no other grains.

To his surprise, rice in Tamil could be harvested three times a year, and even more strangely, the harvest and sowing were done on the same plot of land, which was quite interesting.

Literally, it means that rice seedlings are still being planted on one side of a large farmland, while harvesting is underway on the other.

Half of it is lush and green, and the other half is covered with golden ears of rice.

This is because Tamil's climate is suitable for planting anytime, anywhere. There's no need to distinguish between seasons.

The rice had just been harvested when people came to plow the fields and transplant seedlings, without delaying a single day.

People from Dongda University like to use a rope as a reference when planting rice seedlings, and then plant the seedlings neatly.

In Tamil, it's different; people can put their things wherever they want.

It looks messy; the harvest probably isn't great.

The harvesting process was similar to that at Dongda University; the harvested wheat was piled up by the roadside and then carried back in batches.

They were either transported by oxcart or carried back to the village by farmers on their heads.

Threshing rice is done entirely by hand, usually by grabbing rice stalks and slamming them to the ground, or by stomping on them with your feet.

After drying, winnowing the millet is also done manually. People mostly use large square palm-leaf fans woven from coconut leaves as a means of generating wind.

One person throws rice grains into the air, while another person vigorously fans the falling rice grains.

After blowing away the debris, the sifted rice is placed on a stone and pounded with a mortar to remove the husks.

It can be said that the entire agricultural process, from sowing and harvesting to threshing and milling, is entirely organic.

The only metal tool used was the sickle used for harvesting.

Ron asked them why they didn't use mechanized operations, but his brothers-in-law didn't seem to care.

The land is all for the slave farmers to cultivate; why should they worry about it? They only care about getting their cut at the end.

No wonder India's agriculture has not developed much in recent years; landowners don't care about efficiency at all.

The farmers would like to use machines, but they don't have the money to buy them.

So things reached a dead end, and after all these years, India's agricultural production remains very primitive.

After spending a full month in Tamil, Ron finally set off for Mumbai.

New Delhi is indeed pressing for an answer, but the situation in Mumbai can't be delayed either.

The pager from Suer Electric Appliances is almost finalized; he needs to go check it out.

The mobile base stations of telecommunications companies are also in trouble and urgently need a solution.

(End of this chapter)