I am a master in India

Chapter 439 Taking Ruthless Measures

Mi Xin was stunned by the swarm of sticks coming at him; the fact that his opponents attacked without warning was truly unexpected.

They had two or three hundred men on their side, and if they fought back, the other side wouldn't be able to escape unscathed.

However, the truth is that when they saw thousands of people rushing towards them, the villagers of Lambada scattered instantly, with only a few people surrounding Mi Xin to resist.

Mi Xin was furious and shouted, but several blows knocked him to the ground.

Dabiyati, who was wearing a uniform, fought the fiercest and most ruthlessly, even though he was the youngest one.

Dabyati has a baby face and is indeed still a minor, but he is the most experienced among Mohan's fellow villagers.

He had worked for a year in a yarn factory in Ludhiana, Punjab, worked as a carpenter in a district in northeastern Arunachal Pradesh, and worked as a road worker for a year in his hometown of Demaji.

He even went to the Ksemmir region, where he worked as a mechanic in a small car repair shop.

Of all the jobs he's ever done, he liked carpentry the most.

If he could freely pursue his dreams, he would love to settle down in his village and open a furniture store.

“He’s a very skillful man,” Mohan had previously described, “but no one in the village can afford furniture. They might only buy one every few years.”

Dabiyati's optimistic attitude masked the family background that led him to leave his hometown and work in various places.

“His life is quite miserable,” Mohan told Dwaram a few days ago.

He then began to tell the story of Dabiyati, who listened quietly, occasionally adding details.

Dabiyati lost both his parents when he was a child. His father, a mechanic, died of cancer, and his mother died of what he called a "fever."

Darby has three brothers and one sister. His eldest brother died a few years ago after drinking pesticide.

“My brother was a chicken farmer,” Darby said, “but all his chickens got sick and died. He lost everything and felt that life had lost its meaning, so he committed suicide by drinking pesticide.”

After his eldest brother committed suicide by drinking pesticide, Darby and his other siblings left their village.

They moved to the village where Mohan lived, where Darby's second brother and younger brother worked on a farm.

A few years later, they saved up enough money to buy a small piece of land, but the income from farming was far too little.

Most of the rice they grew was for their own consumption, so Darby decided to go out and work as a spinner to supplement the family income.

Darby's younger sister is in school and is currently in 12th grade.

“She’s very smart,” Darby said with a touch of romantic expectation. “She gets excellent grades and dances very well. You must see her perform during the Sanctuary Festival.”

Her three older brothers worked hard to support her through school. They all felt that their sister was the most likely to escape poverty and a miserable family situation, so that she wouldn't have to be a farmer or go out to work in the future.

Darby sends most of his salary home every month, and his sister needs a lot of money to buy study materials.

She had always longed to attend an elite school in the county, but the tuition was too high, and her brothers simply couldn't afford it.

Now the opportunity has come. If he can gain Mr. Sue's favor, he may be able to become a full-time employee.

That would mean his salary could potentially double, along with many enviable hidden benefits.

Darby was reminded of what happened last year, a boy who died.

Darby shared a room with him; he wasn't from Assam but from another region.

One day, he didn't go to work, and Darby found him. He was lying there, but already dead, with no injuries on his body. The police came, asked a few questions, and then left.

No one came to claim his body, and Darby and the others did not know his family.

So the group chipped in to bury him, and they divided his belongings among themselves.

Darby always remembered this incident, believing that the boy had died of illness, but that the boy himself was unaware of his illness.

Their living conditions were too filthy, and they couldn't afford to see a doctor, so they had to endure it all by themselves.

Darby was very much looking forward to the beautiful dormitory that Mr. Sue had promised, especially after the factory had a medical room.

He thought Mr. Sue was a man of his word, unlike the previous factory owners.

Darby looked at the uniform he was wearing; it was too big for him. The uniform had a military belt and epaulettes, but Darby didn't look like a stern soldier; he looked more like a child acting in a school play.

Perhaps so, he's always been so unremarkable.

Darby touched his waist and pulled a dagger from his belt.

Mi Xin was knocked to the ground, and the crowd punched and kicked him. He could only raise his arms, close his eyes, and desperately protect his head.

Suddenly, his body jolted, a look of pain crossed his face, and his hand instinctively reached for his waist.

No one noticed, or rather, no one cared, until blood kept seeping from the corner of Mi Xin's mouth.

The beating gradually stopped, and the crowd slowly retreated, until the scene became quiet.

Mi Xin, who was surrounded, was curled up on the ground with a large patch of blood around his waist.

His mouth was half-open, unable to speak, and his body twitched occasionally.

Pushdeep and Kasik exchanged a glance, both understanding each other's meaning.

They waved and turned to leave, and the other workers quickly followed.

In just a few moments, the scene of hundreds of people beating each other disappeared completely.

Mi Xin lay there all alone until there was no one else around at the intersection. Only then did a few villagers from Lambada carefully come over and carry him away.

...

"You mean things are all settled?" Ron asked, somewhat surprised.

“Yes, no one will mention the strike again.” Dwaram nodded confidently.

"what happened?"

"It was just a minor accident, nobody cared, and no police would bother with it."

“Okay, what happened to those Lambadas?” Ron didn’t care about such a small matter. “They were gradually laid off over the next year, and the steel mill will only hire workers from other areas from now on.”

“Okay.” Ron nodded, agreeing with this approach.

He also felt that the locals were just making a lot of fuss, and that the title of "Mr. Sue" didn't seem to work here.

Compared to those factory owners who are full of lies and only resort to violence, isn't my approach more reliable?
The saying "Every pitiful person has something hateful about them" holds true in India.

In comparison, his loyal Uttar Pradesh is more endearing.

"By the way, what are your thoughts on the Progressive Party?" Ron didn't forget the important matter.

"I plan to establish a Party branch in the steel plant."

"What?" Ron was stunned.

"Progressive Party Branch".

Ugh, that name makes Ron's teeth ache.

He always felt that the streetlights outside were slightly too bright.

"Are you planning to start by developing among the workers?"

“This is the best option; they now have complete faith in you,” Dvalam nodded in agreement.

“They are migrant workers, and their voting rights still belong to their birthplace.” Ron frowned.

The workers in this industrial area are disliked by local officials because they do not have the right to vote.

If they can't contribute their votes, which elector will care about the lives of these migrant workers?

“That’s why we need Mr. Su’s help,” Dvalam said with a smile.

"What do you mean?"

“The workers’ dormitories you plan to build are a very good opportunity.”

“You mean…” Ron gradually realized.

"The reason why workers today do not have the right to vote is because they do not have a fixed place to live; they are displaced people."

"The dormitories behind the factory don't count; those are worse than shacks, and you can't get proof of residence there at all."

Indian law stipulates that citizens must be at least 18 years old and register to vote to have the right to vote.

One of the mandatory requirements for voter registration is to provide valid proof of residence.

The word "effective" is quite complex; simply put, it means that it must be recognized by the local government.

Unfortunately, the factory dormitories are not on the government's register.

Even the most greedy inspector couldn't say that the dormitory area, which was comparable to a garbage dump, could be considered a valid place to live.

They can easily list a whole bunch of non-compliance items; there's nothing we can do about it.

If they insist on lying through their teeth and including these migrant workers as voters, their political opponents will never miss an opportunity to attack them.

Furthermore, including workers as voters would imply their right to participate in local politics, which the local indigenous residents might not agree to.

This is a very complex issue, and one of the reasons why the lives of migrant workers from other places are so miserable.

But having proper dormitories would be different, as it would mean that the workers would have a permanent place to live.

“You could rent the completed dormitory buildings to the workers, and then you could issue them residence certificates, which would give them votes.”

"Workers having a vote means they can vote for the party they prefer."

"Yes, what could be more suitable for them than the Progressive Party?"

"Dvalam, you can really surprise me."

“Mr. Sull, you’re just too busy to bother with such trivial matters,” Dvalam said with a smile and a nod.

"Alright, I'll leave this to you, including recruiting new workers."

"Sir, how many workers are you planning to hire?"

"The scale is expected to triple. For specific details, please contact South Bia, who is in charge of the factory's daily management."

“Yes, I’ll be here for the next few months,” Dwaram quickly replied.

Four or five thousand workers—that's a lot. With enough numbers to suppress the nearby village of Kusser, he's confident he can seize local political power in just one or two years.

Of course, he was not only trying to win over workers; he was also considering nearby villagers.

Goa is not a large state, and its difficulty in navigating is far lower than that of the Herdoi region in Uttar Pradesh. Dwaram is very confident about this.

Ron was inspecting a steel mill when he unexpectedly encountered a strike, which was then unexpectedly resolved.

This amazed him, but he wasn't too worried, since India has no shortage of labor.

What Ron really cares about is the technological upgrading of the steel mill.

They started contacting a German company last year. Now, a year later, the renovation project is more than halfway complete.

It is projected that steel mill output will increase by about 30% by next year, the year 2000.

For heavy industry, this is already quite considerable.

Ron had intended to inspect a few more iron mines, but he had to rush back to Mumbai midway through his trip.

India's political drama is truly exceptionally captivating.

Only a year has passed, and they're already preparing for another national election.

(End of this chapter)