I am a master in India

Chapter 8 This is India

It is very troublesome to exchange foreign currency into local currency in India, whether it is a bank or the Foreign Exchange Bureau.

They will first ask you to fill out a complicated form, stating everything from your personal information to the purpose of exchanging currency.

Then they have to use various instruments to verify the authenticity of the coins. If the amount is large, they have to report to the higher authorities for approval.

There is no problem with the above, but in the end you still have to copy down the serial numbers on the foreign currency one by one!

Yes, there is a long string of codes on each banknote, and you have to write them clearly.

When Smith first exchanged foreign currency at the airport, he spent more than an hour copying it by hand.

As a retired man with poor joints, he had difficulty holding a pen after that incident.

He originally thought that it would take Ron some time to get it done, after all, the black market also has to go through procedures.

But from the time he got off the car to the time he got the money back, it took less than ten minutes in total.

This is too fast, so fast that it is a bit uncharacteristic of India.

After opening the paper package and counting the money carefully, Smith concluded that it was not counterfeit money.

"Ron, to be honest, this process seems a bit too smooth."

"Mr. Smith, I told you my services would be worth every penny."

"Yes, you kept your promise."

As he spoke, Smith took out a few rupees from a paper bag and handed them to Ron in the front row.

"Here, you deserve it. I know the rules."

Ron glanced at it and saw that it was about 1000 rupees. He didn't hesitate, as it was indeed a common practice.

Usually, if foreign tourists ask local guides to exchange rupees on the black market, they will take a commission of 3% to 5%.

After all, the money tourists receive is much higher than the amount settled at the official exchange rate.

Smith was very satisfied with Ron, so he gave him a higher commission.

"Thank you for your generosity, sir." Ron said with a namaste.

Anand, who was driving nearby, witnessed the entire process, his round eyes never leaving the banknotes.

"Ron, this old fat lamb is so tender! I can already smell the aroma of roasting lamb!"

"Shut up, Anand, we've taken enough."

Ron took a commission from the black market, and he took another commission from Smith.

By making a profit from both ends, they have earned 5500 rupees from this trip.

But the greedy Anand was not satisfied after seeing how gullible Smith was.

He was eyeing the remaining 20,000 rupees. As foreign tourists, he wanted to take advantage of them whenever possible.

There is nothing strange about Anand's idea. Many Indians treat foreign tourists even more harshly than he does.

However, Ron didn't intend to do so, he had his own ideas.

“As I said, Anand, I’m going to make this a career.”

"Yes, we are now in the business of slaughtering fat sheep."

"No, it's not a one-time deal. It's the kind of business that can be done long-term."

Anand blinked and said, "Ron, I've been doing this business of fattening sheep for many years, and if nothing unexpected happens, I'll continue to do it for a long time."

What an idiot! Ron was so angry that he almost slapped his chubby face.

"I want to start a company! Do you know that a company must have a good reputation when doing business?"

"Start a company?!" Anand slammed on the brakes in surprise.

"Hey, guys, stop arguing!" Smith, who was in the back and was almost pushed to the front seat by the brakes.

"Here's a tip for you, drive carefully now!" Smith angrily stuffed 100 rupees into Anand's pocket.

He thought the two had just started arguing over the uneven distribution of the spoils, and that the short, thickset man must have been the first to make excessive demands. It was just like that at the train station yesterday; Smith had already seen how mercenary and difficult the other party was.

"Sorry Mr. Smith, this guy was just distracted." Ron glared at Anand and signaled him to concentrate on driving.

Anand, who had received an extra tip for no reason, smirked in his curry-scented English and said, "Three grams of oil, sir!"

For the rest of the journey, both of them fell silent, with only Ron occasionally introducing the scenery outside.

The Hindu temple they are going to this time is located near the coastline and is dedicated to an elephant-headed god.

As soon as the taxi stopped at the temple gate, groups of children rushed to the window.

They stretched out their thin, black hands and cried, "One rupee! One rupee! Give me one rupee, sir!"

"Go away! Go away!" Anand, who got off the car first, waved his hands to drive people away. He had seen this kind of scene many times.

After much difficulty, they made room for Smith to get down. Looking at the children with tattered clothes, dark faces and skinny appearance, he felt pity for them.

"You can't be so rude, they're just kids!"

Anand didn't understand English and could only look at Ron.

"Well, he asked you to be a gentleman. These are poor children."

Anand seemed to have heard a huge joke and muttered sarcastically in Marathi.

"This old man doesn't understand India at all. If we weren't here, he would have been cheated out of everything, not even his loin cloth!"

Ron pretended not to hear and extended his hand to lead the way. "Mr. Smith, this way, please."

However, things did not go so smoothly. When the begging children saw that the people getting off the bus were foreigners, they all gathered around again.

They have their own way of survival. Those who take taxis are all rich people, and foreigners are ranked first.

Smith was surrounded and felt very embarrassed when faced with the outstretched little hands.

He claimed to be from a civilized world, but in the end he still took out a few coins.

This action seemed to stir up a hornet's nest, and more and more children gathered around.

Some of them sang, some began to twist their bodies and dance, trying to attract Smith's attention, while shouting "Give it to me too! Give it to me too!"

"Oh! God!" Smith was held there, unable to move forward or backward. He had never seen such a scene before.

"See, I told you this old man doesn't understand India." Anand still had the mind to make sarcastic remarks.

"Stop laughing and get back to work!" Ron, who was prepared, took out a handful of coins from his pocket and stuffed them into his hand.

These were the coins he had exchanged in advance, all in very small denominations.

After getting the money, Anand shouted a few words to the group of children, and then threw a handful of coins into the open space in the distance.

With a whoosh, the crowd of children dispersed in an instant. They rushed over to grab the coins, and some even wrestled with each other.

Smith, who had just had a headache because of the noise, found that there was no one in front of him. It was so quiet that it felt like a dream.

"Mr. Smith, let's go!" Ron pulled him straight to the ticket office.

There are millions of people living in slums in Mumbai, and there are countless children like this.

"God! Thank goodness for you, Ron, otherwise I'd be worried if I could get out of this."

"As much as I hate to admit it, this is India. Some of those kids are from slums, and some are organized."

"You said there's an organization behind them?!"

"You are a foreigner and you won't be in trouble anytime soon, but don't let your guard down."

The waters of Mumbai are very deep, and Ron only learned a little about it from Anand.

In fact, if you think about it, more than 2000 slums are the natural breeding ground for gray industries.

Ron could already foresee that he would inevitably have to deal with some of them in the future.

Because in India, many meetings, promotions and contracts are facilitated by bribery and protection.

(End of this chapter)