I am a master in India

Chapter 434 Planning
The Congress Party is already campaigning for the general election four months from now, promising voters that they will adopt the recommendations of the Seri Krishna report, namely to take action against Shiva.

Srikrishna's report listed the names of 31 police officers who were accused of indiscriminate killings or blatant misconduct, such as assisting or directly participating in the Mumbai riots.

Of the 31 people, 17 were formally charged in 95. But to date, none have been tried, and 10 of them have received raises and promotions.

Riot participants were prosecuted for violating the Terrorism and Subversion Act, which is often described by the media as “harsh.”

Even so, over the seven years, a total of 2267 appeals were filed, of which 60% were closed by the prosecution on the grounds of "insufficient evidence".

The rest were not sentenced; only a complaint was filed against them.

As of last year, 853 cases remained pending.

42 cases were heard in court: 30 were declared innocent, 3 were withdrawn, and 8 were convicted of disturbing the peace.

It's absurd that Indian law is so mysterious.

However, when Mumbai was the victim, it deployed its most elite police force, focusing all its efforts on the case, so the mastermind behind the "September 3rd" bombings was either arrested or fled the country.

Because the perpetrators of the bombing were herders, while the victims were Hindus.

Conversely, while Mumbai acts as the perpetrator of violence and causes more deaths, it allows its masterminds to remain seated in municipal government and even parliament.

"The nearly decade-long impunity of those responsible for the Mumbai riots sends a deeply disturbing message to the nation and shatters public confidence in judicial fairness," the Congress Party concluded.

Bar Sakray faced fourteen charges, of which the Shiva military government managed to drop thirteen.

The only remaining accusation is that Thackeray used editorials in the newspaper "Rebel" to incite anti-pastoral sentiment among the people during the riots.

This was the least serious of the fourteen charges, and fortunately, it was dropped.

If this had happened in the United States, human rights activists, unaware of the full story, would likely have actively campaigned to defend Thackeray.

The current leader of the Congress Party in Maharashtra is Bujibar, who was formerly a Shiva soldier but defected to the Congress Party camp.

Now, this strong contender in the election is determined to detain his former leader, even if it's just for an hour.

Bujibar declared that if he comes to power, he will at least implement one of the recommendations in the Sri Krishna Report: arrest the leaders of the Shiva Army.

In an effort to quell these public opinions, Shiva's army has been putting out fires and extinguishing flames everywhere.

Many leaders were even prepared to go to war.

Mumbai is truly a city where one crisis seems to be followed by another.

Ron didn't want to get involved in these dirty dealings, so he went to Goa to inspect his steel mill.

After more than half a year of rectification, the area has been almost completely taken over.

He also brought Dwaram along, with the obvious aim of getting the Progressive Party to take root in Goa.

This state is small; if managed well, it might even become your own backyard.

Dwaram took the task Ron gave him very seriously. Coming from a humble background, he could easily connect with the masses.

Upon arriving in Goa, the first place he visited was the village near the steel plant.

If the Progressive Party wants to take root here, it first needs to gain the approval of the local residents, and the steelworkers are relatively easy to persuade.

After taking a general look around, Dwaram concluded that Kusser village could neither be considered a new village nor an old one.

The highway divides the world into two parts: the market and the steel mill are on one side, while most of the houses and farmland are on the other.

The village is mostly made of simple cement houses, some of which have been uninhabited for a long time, with spider webs and beetles hanging in the corners.

However, the village of Kussel in the morning is a pleasant and idyllic place.

Looking into the distance, you can see fields of farmland and areas where the Lambada people live.

The women of Lambada are very independent and have a distinctive style of dress. They always walk ahead of their husbands and like to wear brightly colored shirts and lots of jewelry.

This is interesting; Dwaram believes the Progressive Party should look to these women for a breakthrough.

Unfortunately, this kind of rural life is disappearing, and now factories are everywhere.

Much of the area between the city and the airport has been bought up by real estate developers who hope to make a fortune as the city expands.

Now, it's only a matter of time before the locals are completely expelled from their own land.

A small number of workers also live in the village, and they have to cross the highway to get to work every day.

After crossing the road, it's another ten-minute walk to the market in Kusser village.

The market stretches along a road that was a major thoroughfare in the area before it was replaced by a new highway.

The market, located in the heart of Kosser village, was in poor condition and dusty. Various stalls there sold vegetables, fruits, medicines, and cheap pints of whiskey.

There are some concrete buildings scattered haphazardly around the market, including a poultry farm, a jewelry store that also sells goods, and three restaurants.

Dwaram ate breakfast and lunch at one of these restaurants; it was very cheap, and he ate mostly potatoes and a spicy Indian dish.

The restaurant's waiters were mostly teenage boys, while the tired-looking workers and farmers wolfed down their food.

This scene, marked by backwardness and barbarity, felt strangely familiar to Dwaram, as it resembled Uttar Pradesh.

He was extremely experienced in how to mobilize politics among the masses.

However, Dvalam wasn't in a hurry to implement it immediately; he wanted to learn more about the area.

He enjoyed this carefree, worldly lifestyle. The restaurant Dwaram was going to eat at today was called Dhaba, a type of restaurant located along the Indian-Babayang Highway.

It offers dishes from two countries and is very popular here.

The shadow of the Kargil War seemed to have no effect on this peaceful suburb. People were indifferent, preoccupied with their lives.

Dwaram quickly found a place hidden behind a row of trucks parked on the side of the road, near a steel pipe factory.

This restaurant has different names; you can call it Bivanidhaba or Viija Family Haba, depending on which name you read on the sign.

Beside a patch of grass stood a row of cement houses, each with a curtain hanging over its door, seemingly hinting at something.

Occasionally, a man would come out pulling up his pants, yawning, and spitting a thick wad of phlegm onto the grass at his feet.

Then, in twos and threes, they crossed the dilapidated road and went to a restaurant for a treat.

There is a foyer at the back of the house, with plastic tables and chairs inside.

The restaurant in Dehaba is never very busy, but when it is, customers tend to sit in the private rooms.

The guests are often a group of rugged-looking local businessmen who sit together, drinking whiskey and eating terracotta oven-roasted chicken.

Dwaram sat among the sparse guests, intently savoring his spicy and sour potatoes.

Suddenly, I heard a burst of excited whispers.

"That big boss never comes here, so there's a lot of room for maneuver!"

"But...but that's Mr. Sue. Are we sure there won't be any problems if we do this?"

"What problems could there be? It's just forming a union, which is legal. We're fighting for the workers' rights!"

“In the past, whenever we wanted to organize a strike, the factory owners would send the police to disrupt it. Now that the big boss is gone, there’s absolutely no one watching us anymore,” a voice said confidently.

"It's really strange that a boss doesn't come to inspect the factory for months."

“Those big shots have too many businesses to manage. But this is just right, it gives us an opportunity.”

“That’s right. We can only demand a pay raise by organizing a strike. The union headquarters in New Delhi will support us.”

"Is this really going to work? The Suer Steel Plant just adjusted wages recently, and the South Bia manager promised that we would build new dormitories..." That timid voice rang out again.

"Idiot! Do you think you'd complain about your high salary? It's what they owe us. Think about how ruthlessly that factory owner has exploited us these past few years. These big shots are all birds of a feather."

This guy surnamed Suer is a stickler for rules, that's good. What reason does he have to stop us from forming a union?
We're just following the rules. We'll keep an eye on the Marda workers and make sure they don't disrupt our strike again.

"Yes! Only a strike will make those big bosses realize the power of power, and they'll give in!"

Tsk tsk, Dvalam on the side listened, nodding his head.

He used to be a restless person, and even personally organized strikes and demonstrations.

He never imagined that one day, others would discuss strike matters in front of him, and the target of the strike would be his own boss.

What a coincidence! Dwaram took a sip of whiskey.

After the rough-looking workers left, he waved to the distance.

The three or four male waiters in the restaurant were busy, seemingly never stopping.

Only when he saw the ten rupees tucked between Dwaram's fingers did he dart over like a swallow.

"Sir, what do you need?"

"Where are those guys at that table from?"

"They are from the Lambada tribe."

"You live nearby?"

"Yes, they are locals."

"And where are the Marda laborers?"

"Oh, they are a bunch of desperate scoundrels."

Where can we find them?

"The dirtiest place in this town."

Dwaram waved and sat in the foyer, watching the raindrops fall on the highway.

The sparse raindrops indicate that the South Asian monsoon is weak this year. The rain has taken away the heat from the air, but it has also added to the desolation of the area.

This place is neither a city, nor a town, nor a rural area. Every night around nine or ten o'clock, the entire market is usually deserted, except for the occasional drunkard who wanders here.

However, there was a constant flow of vehicles on the nearby highway, and there was an orange sign that read "No Drinking and Driving".

In this world, there are no women and children, only cold and weary men.

They worked tirelessly, without knowing why they were busy.

Dwaram got up; he needed to go talk to Mr. Sue.

(End of this chapter)