I'm a Master in India

It was already very hot in Mumbai by the end of March, and Dayanita was out of breath after just a few swipes of the mop in the living room.

Her husband, with his slicked-back hair and wearing a lungi, was engrossed in reading the newspaper on the sofa, as if Dayanita standing before him were invisible.

“Are you just going to watch?” she couldn't help but demand.

“What?” Her innocent husband looked bewildered.

“It’s so hot, and I’m mopping the floor, but you’re just sitting there reading the newspaper. Can’t you think of a way?”

“The fan is on the highest setting; I can’t exactly hide the Mumbai sun,” her husband felt she was being unreasonable.

“I want an air conditioner! I’m sick of this furnace-like weather!”

“That would cost at least twenty thousand Rupees. My salary for two months put together isn't enough,” her husband was a bit annoyed. Who did she think she was, daring to even think of an air conditioner?

“Then buy this one!” Dayanita snatched the newspaper from her husband’s hand.

“It’s only a little over two thousand Rupees. There’s nothing cheaper than this.”

“A water cooler?” Her husband stared at the advertisement in the newspaper, stunned.

“A water cooler is still an air conditioner!

Sharma next door bought the exact same model, and his wife has already shown off to me six times!”

“This ad looks fake. How can an air conditioner be so cheap?” Her husband was somewhat skeptical.

“It’s the latest technology, invented by Dr. Sur.

He’s a good person; Indians don't lie to Indians.”

“How about we ask around again?”

“I don’t care, I don’t want Mrs. Sharma showing off to me a seventh time!”

“Alright, I’ll call now,” her husband reluctantly picked up the landline and started dialing the number from the advertisement.

Comparison happens constantly in big cities like Mumbai; it's amplified by desire and spreads using desire.

The married yearn for single life, the single crave marriage, the middle class envies the rich, and the rich envy the poor for not having tax worries.

Therefore, Mumbai is also a city of envy.

The number of workers at Sur Electric Appliances Factory has rapidly expanded to over 150 people, roughly triple the previous size.

The three rows of workshops from the former textile factory have been renovated and are now all being utilized, finally giving the place a new look.

“What’s our production capacity like now?” Ron was inspecting the workshop.

“Standard model produces 400 units per day, the Light Luxury model 200 units, and the Luxury model only about 100 units,” Anish, the workshop supervisor, skillfully rattled off the figures.

He had only joined half a month ago, previously working at a plastic basin factory.

Ron used connections to poach him with a high salary of six thousand Rupees.

Anish was originally the workshop manager at the plastic basin factory and quickly brought order to the workshops at Sur Electric Appliances.

“Based on the current capacity, how long will it take to clear our backlog of orders?” Ron was quite satisfied with this workshop supervisor.

“At least two and a half months, but dealers from further away are still coming after hearing the news, so our production capacity will be tight for a long time to come.

Boss, we need to continue expanding.”

“The other two injection molding machines have already shipped from Europe, and the new workshop will start construction soon, so wait a bit longer.

The priority now is to keep hiring and implement two shifts; the machines here cannot stop for a moment!”

Ron hadn't expected the orders for Sur Electric Appliances Factory to suddenly explode.

The initial twenty or thirty thousand units were already a pleasant surprise, and he hadn't felt any urgency at the time.

After all, an injection molding machine can press out a shell in just over ten seconds, and even including other plastic parts, it could easily produce five hundred sets of casings and parts a day.

Two injection molding machines, over a thousand sets, should have been more than enough.

But he was quickly proven wrong, so he hurriedly contacted Leon.

The goodwill from the two-thousand-dollar check last time remained, so Leon simply helped him contact equipment suppliers, allowing Ron to communicate directly with the manufacturers in the future.

But distant water can't quench a nearby fire; to expand capacity quickly, they could only implement two shifts.

“Tell the workers that the night shift has an extra 20 Rupee allowance.

If they know anyone who meets the requirements, they can be hired.”

“Okay!” Anish quickly jotted it down.

Don't underestimate these 20 Rupees; working the night shift for a full month means earning 600 Rupees more than others.

Many people in the slums don't even earn 600 in a month, so this is definitely a very considerable incentive.

Ron, this black-hearted capitalist, reluctantly sacrificed a tiny bit of profit to squeeze out the workers' last ounce of labor.

Actually, he wasn't black-hearted enough; he hadn't seen the truly non-stop factories in India.

Workers there eat, drink, and relieve themselves all within the factory; they can't leave at all, and night shift allowances are unheard of.

However, Ron disdained doing that; his ambition was great, and he was consciously building the company's image.

“Ashish, Zamir, how is the modification of your production lines going?”

“Boss, it’s much faster than before.

Look, they don’t even have to screw in the screws themselves.”

Following the direction Ashish pointed, Ron saw a worker holding a pneumatic screwdriver, fastening a screw with two quick clicks.

Alright, I guess that counts as semi-automation.

It used to take over ten seconds to tighten a screw, now it takes two seconds; that’s huge progress, huh.

In a country like India, where industrialization is stumbling along, how advanced do you expect the production lines to be?

After touring the workshop, Ron had a general idea in his mind.

The 700,000 Rupee return from the first batch of over a thousand water coolers had long been received, and Sur Electric Appliances had even shipped out another ten thousand units of various models.

This pace wasn't slow, considering it had only been a little over half a month since the bombing.

All ten thousand water coolers were taken by local Mumbai dealers; they had the advantage of being close by, reaching the Sur Electric Appliances Factory gate within half an hour's drive.

The benefit was also obvious: local dealers paid back very quickly.

The lowest-priced water cooler sold for 350 Rupees.

After deducting material costs of 70 Rupees, labor costs of 10 Rupees, and the dealer's 20% commission, the net profit for Sur Electric Appliances Factory was about 200 Rupees per unit.

A profit margin of 57%, which was very good.

Of course, this was because they were in Mumbai; selling to further places in the future, after deducting transportation costs, middlemen, and state taxes, if they could maintain over 40%, that would be a huge profit.

The profit for the Light Luxury model was about 460 Rupees per unit, and the Luxury model was about 1300 Rupees.

Of the 10,000 water coolers sold, the standard model accounted for the largest share, 6,000 units!

There were 3,000 Light Luxury units and only 1,000 Luxury units.

From this batch of goods, Sur Electric Appliances would receive a net profit of 3.88 million Rupees.

They made a huge profit; in another half a month, the money spent on buying the land would be completely recovered.

Of course, Ron had invested a total of 12 million Rupees into Sur Electric Appliances Factory, so he was still a bit short of breaking even, but it was close.

These last 3.88 million Rupees were pre-tax profit; India's corporate tax at this time was extremely abnormal.

Before '91, India followed a 'socialist' capitalist path, with corporate taxes for domestic companies as high as 45% to 50%.

Because at this time, most companies were state-owned assets, profit or no profit didn't matter.

Although policies had gradually opened up and tax rates were being adjusted, most companies still had to pay over 40% tax, which was essentially working for the Indian government for free.

But this is India; if you don't use some crooked methods, you're not living up to its name.

The states had the power to grant preferential tax rates to companies within their state, and emerging industries also had various tax subsidies, while manufacturing had equipment depreciation subsidies.

With all these categories, the room for manipulation became large.

Ron, the rising star in Mumbai, of course, had to use some little tricks.

Sending money here, making phone calls there.

After a series of maneuvers, not only did he not have to pay taxes, but he also received a 200,000 Rupee subsidy.

Damn, that's outrageous.

However, Ron also knew that his Sur Electric Appliances Factory was just established this year, and such good fortune wouldn't happen next year.

Corporate tax is paid uniformly in October, which is the Indian New Year, so his appliance factory could enjoy its freedom for about half a year.

Anyway, with over 4 million Rupees in his pocket, Ron was feeling confident now.

Otherwise, where would the money come from to buy equipment and build factories? There was still a large part of the 100 acres waiting for him to develop.

Oh yes, there was also TV advertising; that needed to be arranged too.

Ajay had a long-standing aversion to the film industry.

His father was a director but had recently been feeling despondent due to his lack of power and influence.

Old Mr. Lal had signed Rajesh Khanna as the male lead.

He had obtained the superstar's schedule, rented the studio, and had the film sets meticulously arranged, just waiting for Khanna to come and shoot a song and dance sequence.

On Monday, the big star Khanna didn't show up, nor did he on Tuesday.

The film crew was all in place, and all the staff were eagerly waiting, but every day of waiting incurred huge expenses.

Khanna didn't appear for the entire week, and by Saturday, the sets had to be dismantled.

The beautiful dream ultimately remained just a dream, and on the same day, Ajay's father had a stroke.

Fortunately, it didn't completely destroy him; Old Mr. Lal eventually pulled through.

But recently, one time, Ajay woke up at three in the morning.

He found that his father wasn't in the bedroom and located Old Mr. Lal smoking in the garden.

“I borrowed from loan sharks at a 36% interest rate, what should I do?” Old Mr. Lal was at a loss, because he had already lost 25 lakh on his previous film.

Ajay didn't want his father to be ruined by films, even though he detested the industry.

So when Ron happened to have this need, he spoke up.

No matter how selfless he was, he couldn't bypass the hurdle of family affection.

One day in early April, Ron visited Ajay's courtyard in Bandra.

This was a great location; Bandra and Juhu were roughly equivalent to Mumbai's Beverly Hills—the place where Bollywood stars lived and worked.

“Mr. Lal, I’ve heard so much about you,” Ron and Mary visited together.

“Please come in quickly, Dr. Sur,” Old Mr. Lal was in high spirits; he had already learned from his son the purpose of Ron’s visit.

Dr. Sur, whose good reputation was known to everyone, Old Mr. Lal had very high expectations for their collaboration.

While the family warmly entertained Ron, they also frequently glanced at Mary beside him.

Ajay's wife's eyes asked if she was Ron's girlfriend.

Ajay returned a helpless look; how would he know.

The last time they met, this guy had a charming and lovely Indian girl by his side.

“Mary also works in Bollywood; she mainly handles the agency issues for foreign actors,” Ron proactively introduced her.

“Oh, I think I’ve heard of that,” Old Mr. Lal had an impression; after all, Bollywood isn't that big.

“See, this makes things easier.

Everyone is an industry insider, so there won't be many problems working together.”

Ron didn't hand over the advertising film project to Mary and her team.

He was merely subtly conveying a message to Ajay: I'm not without connections in Bollywood; I'm only putting this contract in your father's hands because of you.

Ajay understood and sighed inwardly at the same time.

Debts of favor are much more troublesome than monetary transactions.