I am a master in India

Chapter 7 Two heads eat

Chapter 7 Eat both sides

Perhaps few people know that India has always defined itself as a "socialist" country in its constitution.

Before 91, it implemented a trade protectionist policy, namely a planned economy.

Officials advocate full intervention in labor and financial markets and regulation of business activities in all domestic industries.

However, the dramatic changes in Eastern Europe, coupled with the long-term trade deficit, caused India to suffer an unprecedented economic crisis in 91.

At that time, the output values of domestic agriculture and industry were both negative, and the annual GDP growth rate was 0.9%, which was the worst in history.

At the same time, the Indian government's foreign exchange reserves are only around US$50 billion.

For a big country with a population of over 9 million, this amount of foreign exchange reserves is simply a drop in the bucket.

Therefore, the Indian authorities are now almost going crazy due to the lack of foreign exchange. Not only the government is short of it, but the public is also short of it.

Due to the tightening of foreign exchange management, private individuals cannot exchange foreign currency at banks, but some companies have to purchase various equipment and raw materials internationally.

With the demand, there is a market. With the tacit approval of the government, money exchange shops of all sizes are quietly hidden in the inconspicuous alleys of Mumbai.

After a period of development, this market has become a common practice, and this is the so-called foreign exchange black market.

In order to reassure Smith, Ron explained the reasons for this high exchange rate among the people based on India's economic environment and national conditions.

"Ron, you are indeed a knowledgeable gentleman." Smith had never seen a guide who could explain the economic environment of his country so clearly as he did.

“I have a habit of reading and I firmly believe that there are opportunities hidden in this information.”

"Good, then there's one last question left. Is this kind of private exchange safe?"

1：36直接跳到1：45，这可是1.25倍的关系。即使史密斯腰包丰厚，也不得不为之动心。

It's just that the profit margin here is so huge that Smith feels it's a bit unreal.

"Don't worry, we have acquaintances. If you are worried, we will come forward to complete the transaction."

"OK, let's go." Smith sat in the back seat readily.

Ron and Anand, the co-pilot, smiled at each other. They both knew that another big deal had been made today.

The benefits of being a foreign currency exchange broker far exceeded Smith's imagination.

He thought the 1.25 times difference was exaggerated, but Ron was still underestimating it.

Scarcity makes things valuable. More than ten years ago, China's foreign exchange black market was even more exaggerated, with a gap of 5 to 10 times.

Knowing that a large sum of extra money was about to come into his pocket, Anand stepped on the accelerator as fast as he could.

In just a few minutes, they found themselves in a corner of an alley.

As the car drove past increasingly remote areas, Smith seemed a little uneasy.

"Sir, there's usually a criterion for judging whether a money exchange shop is good or bad."

"What?" Smith looked at Ron in the front row.

"The more prime the location of an exchange shop, the less likely it is to offer surprises. Only small, deserted shops are willing to offer generous conditions to attract customers."

Squeak! With the sharp sound of brakes, Anand stopped the car in front of a small building.

From the outside, it looks like a trading company, with billboards written in Hindi hanging on the wall on the roof.

The general meaning is that foreign exchange exchange business is undertaken here.

Ron looked towards the back row and said, "Mr. Smith, do you want to come with me?"

The small building was too inconspicuous, and the house was also an old house. From the dark corridor, Smith could even see a fierce-looking man patrolling back and forth.

He rolled his throat twice unnaturally and finally took his hand away from the car door pull ring.

"Here is 500 pounds. As agreed, you have to bring back 22500 rupees."

"Of course, please leave it to me." Ron smiled at him calmly.

Perhaps it was that calmness that touched Smith, and he handed over the pounds in his hand.

After getting the money, Ron put it in his pocket, opened the door and got out of the car without any hesitation.

The building looked old on the outside, but the interior was well-maintained. The spiraling teak staircase gleamed, and there was no trash on the floor.

When I reached the third floor, my feet felt soft. The entire area was covered with brown carpet.

Ron took a casual look around. The materials and workmanship used in the room's decoration were very exquisite. This must be an old Western-style building left over from the British era, and it looked quite old.

Without him having to say anything, a dark-skinned, burly man came over. "Anand introduced me."

The burly man raised his eyebrows and asked, "Can you speak Madira?"

“Of course, many of my friends are from Madira.”

"I like people who can speak Madras!" The burly man smiled brightly. "Come with me."

Marathi is the local dialect of Maharashtra, spoken by less than 10% of India's population.

However, as Mumbai is India's business card city, the government has been promoting the popularization of Hindi.

Mabang has always been resistant to this and there have been demonstrations and marches for this reason.

So after hearing Ron speaking authentic Madira, the strong man immediately felt a sense of familiarity.

After a while, he brought Ron to a middle-aged man who looked quite powerful.

He looked to be in his fifties, with a thin, resolute face, a long, narrow nose, and high cheekbones.

His beard and hair were both shaved close, but both were graying.

When Ron looked at him, there was scrutiny and a hint of coldness in his eyes.

"Are you Mr. Soul?" His voice was low, loud, and confident.

"Yes, it's nice to meet you. Anand has told me about this place more than once."

The man nodded. "My name is Prak Hade Khan."

Ron's heart skipped a beat; the name felt familiar. The memory might have come from a previous incarnation, but it seemed the two had never crossed paths before.

"I'm a little curious," Prak Hadhan said, not paying attention to Ron's stunned expression. "People with the last name Sur don't usually show up here."

"Oh, I had some problems at home and I needed something to do to support myself."

We are both Indians, and we can judge each other's caste based on just one surname. There is nothing to hide.

Most of the upper castes came from wealthy families and rarely had anything to do with the foreign exchange black market, so Ron had to explain this.

"I like people who are self-reliant, no matter their status." Prak Hadhan looked at Ron with a hint of appreciation.

"Johnny, give him a good price according to market conditions."

"Understood, Khaderbhai!"

"Bai" means elder brother in India and is a kind and respectful word.

Ron stood up gratefully and saluted him, who smiled and nodded slowly.

Following the burly Johnny to the counter outside, he spoke a few words to the receptionist there and then turned and left.

Purak Hadhan's identity seemed to be very unusual, and the people here completed the tasks he assigned as quickly as possible.

After verifying the authenticity of the pounds Ron brought, the other party counted the bills happily, then wrapped them in paper and handed them to him.

"Mr. Sur, 27000 rupees, please count."

Ron looked at him in surprise, but the latter kept smiling and didn't give any explanation.

"Thank Mr. Khadhan for me."

He took the paper package, glanced at it casually, and put it away.

This is almost the highest price on the black market. Ron originally expected to get 24000 rupees.

The extra part is considered as his and Anand’s commission.

After all, it is a black market, and as brokers, they must take a share of the profits.

Although he was a little confused, Ron would not refuse such a benefit.

When he reached the corridor, he counted out 4500 rupees and put it into his pocket.

He wrapped the rest in paper and rushed downstairs.

"Mr. Smith, please count. Here is 22500 rupees."

"So fast?" Smith was shocked by the Indians' efficiency.