I am a master in India

Chapter 452 Leaving
After the bandit incident, Rukhmabai became the pride of Sande Village, and the villagers loved and respected her.

Her speech at the funeral was inspiring and won her the respect and admiration of the villagers.

That was the first and only time she came out to play a public role in the village.

They admired her bravery and respected her perseverance.

As everyone knows, Rukhmabai was devastated after experiencing three miscarriages and the devastating news that she could no longer conceive.

In traditional Indian thought, childbirth is considered a sacred event for women.

If this power is taken away, it is tantamount to being abandoned by the gods.

She was devastated and became consumed by the regrets of her life.

The bandit incident helped her emerge from her grief and despair, restoring her former strong, shrewd, and cheerful demeanor.

In this poor and simple village, everyone clearly remembers that the village's treasure is its villagers.

Rukhmabai's kind face bore the marks of time. The wrinkles on her high cheeks were her dams, holding back her tears.

Whenever she was alone or engrossed in her work, those unspoken, unanswerable questions would make her full red lips murmur to herself.

There were always faint wrinkles on the center of her forehead and between her eyebrows, as if she were pondering absurd yet lamentable truths about life within those soft folds.

Every joy has its sorrow, every wealth has its price, and every life has its end.

Ron thought of his mother, that hazy yet gentle figure.

As he sat behind the house looking out over the fields and reminiscing about the past, he felt something wet swaying beside him.

Ron turned his head and was shocked to see a large black buffalo sticking out its pink tongue to smother his face.

He was really scared and immediately jumped away with a scream.

Seeing him make a fool of himself, Rukhmabai laughed heartily, but it was a good-natured laugh, straightforward and kind.

Anand and the others laughed heartily. Apart from this beast, no one dared to treat Mr. Sue like that.

Rukhmabai led the buffalo away and tied it to a tree. She picked up a glass, squatted down beside the black, horned beast's belly, and began milking it.

She skillfully sprayed the milky white milk directly into the glass, and after filling the glass, she handed it to Ron.

At the same time, she used a corner of her red cotton shawl to wipe the rim of the cup.

Ron held the glass of freshly squeezed milk, his expression one of astonishment.

Can you drink this directly?
Shouldn't it be sterilized first, and then processed?

He had enjoyed a comfortable life in his past life and knew that raw milk could not be drunk directly.

The fact that the location was set in India only fueled further suspicion.

The cup was warm in my hand, and it smelled of cow.

Ron felt like there was something floating in the glass, and he hesitated to drink it.

He always felt that Pasteur, the inventor of the milk sterilization method, was standing behind him, looking down at the glass of milk over his shoulder.

He seemed to be saying: "Uh, sir, if I were you, I would boil that milk before drinking it."
"Ron Baba, don't worry, it's very clean." Anand smiled and shook his head.

"you sure?"

"Of course, I grew up drinking this milk."

No wonder you've grown into such a short, stocky person, Ron thought to himself.

He turned to look at Rukhmabai, who was gazing at him kindly, like a mother gazing at her son.

Ron slurped down his prejudices and fears, along with the glass of milk, as quickly as possible.

The taste wasn't as bad as he expected. It was smooth and rich on the palate, with a milky flavor that lingered in his mouth, accompanied by a hint of grassy aroma.

"It doesn't seem too bad," Ron clicked his tongue.

Rukhmabai took the cup from his hand and squatted down to squeeze another cup, but Ron quickly stopped him.

I couldn't refuse their hospitality, so I just had a drink. It's not like I could eat a meal.

Ron can only stay in Sand Village for a day at most, and he has to leave in the evening.

So, accompanied by Anand and Kishan, he toured around the village of Sande.

The Golden Quadrilateral Highway will pass through here, leading directly to New Delhi in the north.

Because it's a national highway being built, most of the village's land will be requisitioned.

He didn't haggle over every penny, nor did he try to lower the price.

He frankly told Anand that Sur Real Estate would compensate the entire village.

Before construction officially begins, there will be enough houses to accommodate the relocated villagers.

The buildings are all made of cement and were all constructed by Suer Real Estate. Each unit has a building area of ​​at least 60 square meters.

There are also pre-connected water and electricity, and each household has a tap that can hold water for a very long time.

After the houses are built and the villagers move in, the current Sande Village will be demolished.

Homelessness will never happen, and each household will receive tens of thousands of rupees in cash compensation.

Sander Village is small, with only a little over two hundred people. This expense is nothing to Ron.

Anand excitedly told his father about Ron's plan, and the old man was very happy.

He was indeed arrogant and unwilling to spend his son's money. But he enjoyed the demolition compensation benefits without a second thought.

The new location for Sand Village will be decided jointly by the villagers and the people from Suer Realty; Ron will not interfere with these details.

Of course, this incredible stroke of luck only applies to Sande Village. Everywhere else, things are done according to the rules; he's not some kind of saint.

Upon learning that Ron would not be staying overnight and would be leaving in the evening, Rukhmabai and his two daughters began to get busy.

They prepared a lavish afternoon lunch, and Rukhmabai stood by their side throughout the meal, looking down at them like a parent.

Pudding is a large, unleavened flatbread, pan-fried in a skillet with a little oil over a brazier.

The freshly baked, piping hot flatbread is spread with Indian butter, sprinkled with a large spoonful of sugar, rolled into a tube shape, and eaten by hand.

The wraps are extremely thick, barely big enough to hold in your hand, and are served with a hot, sweet milk tea.

Rukhmabai watched them eat intently, whenever Ron or Anand showed even the slightest sign of wanting to stop and catch their breath.

She would poke the two of them with her finger, or pat their heads or shoulders, urging them to keep eating.

They chewed the food vigorously, which was frankly delicious, but they ate too much and their cheeks ached.

Ron couldn't leave the table, so he could only steal glances at the young woman making pancakes, hoping that after eating three or four, the pancakes in the pan would be their last.

While the sun was still high, Ron went to the fields to watch the villagers work.

The crops grown here are mostly corn, wheat, beans, and cotton.

The work time is divided into two segments, each lasting about three hours, with lunch and a break in between.

Children and young women were responsible for bringing lunch, which was served on stainless steel plates.

Lunch is usually a common family meal consisting of flatbread with spices and lentils, mango chutney, raw onions, and lime juice.

After having lunch together, the man looked around for a quiet, shady spot and took a nap for about an hour.

When they went back to work, the men, having eaten and rested well, were full of energy and continued to work diligently until their elders told them to stop.

Then the farmers gathered on the main road, passing through the fields they had sown and tended, and headed home.

Along the way, everyone often laughed loudly and joked with each other.

In the village, men have almost nothing to do; cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, and even routine home repairs are all handled by women.

Most of the work is done by young women, while older women provide supervision.

On average, women in the village work four hours a day and spend most of their free time playing with their children.

The men in the village work six hours a day, averaging four days a week.

Transplanting and harvesting rice require extra effort, but overall, farmers here work less than men and women in the city.

Wow, Maharashtra is indeed a more economically developed region; rural life here is much better than in Uttar Pradesh.

At least from Ron's perspective, this place truly lived a pastoral life, working at sunrise and resting at sunset.

Of course, the countryside is not paradise. After working in the fields, some men also have to tend to the cotton on their private land in Duoyan.

This was to earn some extra money; after a long day of work, I was exhausted.

Rain may come early or late, and once the fields are submerged, they are often ravaged by insects and crop diseases.

Women have no opportunity to showcase their talents, and their talents are allowed to quietly slip away in the endless days.

Others watch as bright and clever children are slowly wasted by time, children who might have achieved greater success and accomplishments if they had been born in a more bustling place.

But if you're stuck in the village, all you'll ever know is the village, the fields, and the river.

Ron guessed that in the dead of night, there would always be men or women who wept sadly because their lives were too miserable.

However, the atmosphere in Sande Village was ultimately more joyful than sorrowful.

Just as Anand said, the villagers love to sing, and their faces are beaming with smiles.

The men and women were all robust, and the grandparents were round but not fat.

Parents are happy and healthy. Children are strong, intelligent, and lively.

Ron hadn't experienced this authentic rural life in a long time, and he felt incredibly relaxed.

Seasons cycle, years pass. All that comes from the earth returns to the earth. All that flourishes and thrives gradually disappears in order to be reborn.

The dark clouds in the sky slowly gathered, giving the impression that they were lurking there, waiting for an opportunity to swoop down.

The rainy season is not over yet; it is now coming to an end.

Ron left Sander village in the evening, while Anand stayed behind, intending to remain in his hometown for a few more days.

This guy used to brag all the time about how great the village was, but Ron mostly scoffed at it.

However, after experiencing it firsthand this time, although there are some embellishments, it is generally consistent with the facts.

The Indian subcontinent is truly amazing; every rural area is unique.

The scenery along the way in Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Maharashtra, Goa, and Tamil is breathtaking.

The rainy season is over, and then it's October, and Ron will have a lot to do again.

The Sunshine Smart City shopping district in New Delhi is about to open, followed by Mumbai.

We should also check out Bangalore; Sur Real Estate has practically taken off all over India.

Ron has invested almost all the money he has earned in recent years into these properties.

The fruit is about to ripen, and the harvest season is just around the corner.

But before that, he still needs to go back to Mumbai.

The two children, Agalon and Ravi, have reached school age.

(End of this chapter)