I'm a Master in India

The Sur family were the big landlords in the vicinity, and their family had divided up a large area of land around them.

Ron's grandfather had worked for the British in his early years and received many rewards, and the land was accumulated during that time.

After his death, he divided the family property among his four sons; they lost some after India gained independence and Nehru came to power.

Ron's father had the highest education among his brothers and became a teacher.

He had no interest in farming, so he only kept enough land for basic sustenance and sold the rest to his brothers.

He himself moved to the city of Varanasi to teach and occasionally returned to the countryside.

The land under his name was managed by Ron's eldest uncle, and after going to Mumbai, he almost never inquired about it again.

The place Ratan was taking Ron to now was the piece of land Ron's father had entrusted.

Although the Sur family had declined, they were still true landlords.

Yes, declined.

They had estates, land, and people, but in the eyes of other Brahmins, they had still declined.

Almost no true Brahmins made a living from agriculture because traditional caste laws forbade them from touching farm tools used by lower castes.

Ratan led Ron through the flat fields, and in the distance, a low factory was faintly visible – it was a sugar mill.

The endless sugarcane fields in Uttar Pradesh provided the raw materials for it; it was harvest season now, and farmers from all directions were driving tractors or donkey carts to transport the sugarcane to the factory.

The line of vehicles stretched for several kilometers; they were all waiting to be weighed.

Under the scorching sun, the farmers waited quietly, sometimes even for three days.

The sugar factory owners did not open more queues or increase the number of scales.

And the farmers seemed to have no complaints; this scene had been playing out in Uttar Pradesh for hundreds of years, and everyone was long used to it.

Ron originally thought his land was also mainly for sugarcane, but when he saw the vast expanse of green before him, he was stunned.

Why did the shape of these leaves look a bit strange, completely different from sugarcane?

"Ron, this entire area is yours!" Ratan generously drew a circle in the air with his arm.

"How many mu is it?" he asked.

"100 acres, about 40 hectares."

"What's planted in the field?"

"Hemp."

!!!

Holy cow! Was I the drug dealer?

Ron was numb, his brain immediately went into a state of shutdown.

"These are all yours," Ratan put his arm around his shoulder and said proudly, "You can make a lot of money."

"Let's cut it down," Ron said, his heart dead.

"What?" Ratan suspected he had misheard.

"Don't the authorities in Uttar Pradesh care about this?" Ron found it strange; even the gangs in Mumbai weren't this rampant.

"You're worried about those officials, right?" Ratan breathed a sigh of relief, "Don't worry, they've known about it for a long time.

This is an economic crop in Uttar Pradesh; farmers rely entirely on it to support their families.

You don't know how many people envy us.

To protect this hemp field, I specifically got weapons and arranged for people to patrol day and night.

Otherwise, these treasures would be stolen very quickly; you have to keep an eye on them all the time."

Ratan's tone was completely that of someone worried and concerned for his business.

"Why not plant sugarcane? Wasn't it good before?" Ron asked weakly.

"How much is sugarcane worth? We planted it for so many years and never got air conditioning or televisions, but hemp can!"

"This stuff will eventually cause trouble; you don't know when the authorities will crack down," Ron advised.

"Don't worry, Uncle Aditya is a municipal councilor in Varanasi; no one dares to cause trouble."

Aditya, whom Ratan mentioned, was Ron's second uncle, his biological uncle.

He had obtained the position of municipal councilor years ago through bribery and was the only one in the Sur family involved in politics.

Ron sighed, Uttar Pradesh, a land of outstanding people and spirits, it truly lived up to its reputation.

"Many people here plant hemp; look over there," Ratan pointed, and there was an even larger area in the distance.

Ron looked around and found that those planting sugarcane were now the minority.

Farmers were blatantly planting hemp, completely in a state of wild growth.

"This business is fiercely competitive now, but with us brothers working together, we can definitely make it bigger and stronger," Ratan by his side was still dreaming of the future.

"This land will be transferred to you guys from now on."

"Huh?" Ratan froze.

"The prerequisite is to exchange it for another piece of land; I need a plot of land in Varanasi city."

"Ron, maybe I didn't explain it too clearly, the hemp in this field can bring you unimaginable wealth," Ratan gestured with his hand.

"I know, but compared to planting hemp, I'm still better at managing factories."

"Little brother, are you sure?" Ratan sighed; he couldn't understand Ron's bizarre idea.

This hemp was comparable to gold, but he was thinking of messing around with factories, not doing proper business!

"Of course, I've thought it through very clearly," Ron smiled and put his arm around his shoulder, saying, "I can't just give up my career in Mumbai; I came back this time to open a factory.

In a couple of days, we'll go talk to Uncle Aditya together and see how to handle it."

"Land in Uttar Pradesh isn't worth much; if you have money, anything is possible," Ratan said indifferently.

"That's best," Ron nodded gladly.

He wasn't planning to inherit this large area of hemp.

Although when doing business in this vast land of North India, you don't have to worry too much about legal issues.

But Ron would be dining at the big table in the future, so he had to be mindful of his image.

Things explicitly forbidden by Indian law were not suitable to be done openly.

It was just a shame about this large piece of land; it was even bigger than his factory in Mumbai.

Over six hundred mu, forty hectares; this impoverished Brahmin was actually a true big landlord.

However, his goal was not to become a farmer; if he could exchange the land for a plot in the city, even a smaller one, it wouldn't be a loss.

Ron didn't continue inspecting his territory; after strolling around with Ratan, they went back.

Only after seeing the mud houses in the village could Ron appreciate how magnificent the Sur family's estate was.

There was more than one courtyard paved with marble, and the garden even had an overly decorated fountain.

The border around the living room ceiling was decorated with floral patterns made of light blue and white alabaster, comparable to the grand ballrooms in Mumbai.

While most families in the distant village were still using kerosene lamps, the Sur family had achieved complete electrification, with electric lights, telephones, electric fans, air conditioning... nothing was lacking.

As Hindus, they had their own temple dedicated to the Sun God, located within the estate.

Servants were also divided into over a hundred by profession: cooks, cleaners, gardeners who trimmed flowers and plants, massage therapists...

These servants always bowed their backs and always wore eager and fawning smiles on their faces.

They would never sit on chairs and only rested by squatting in unoccupied corners.

As soon as Ron approached within two steps, they would stutter and be unable to speak.

Alright, he finally understood what a true Indian 'lord' was.

Ron and his parents also had their own courtyard within the estate; he would stay there this time.

Back home, Ratan mysteriously called him into the room.

"Look what this is?" He pulled out a large bundle of Rupees from somewhere.

"Where did you get so much money?" Ron roughly estimated it was at least several hundred thousand.

He knew Ratan also had a job at a telecom company; with that salary, he definitely couldn't save this much.

"These are all yours," Ratan stuffed the bundle of money into his hand.

"What?" Ron was a bit confused.

"Hemp!" Ratan smiled triumphantly, "It's not too late to regret it now."

"When did you start switching to planting hemp?" Ron asked.

"Last year, this is the second season; the scale is larger, and the harvest will be even more."

"Thanks," Ron shrugged and accepted it.

He didn't lack these few hundred thousand Rupees, but it was his land, and this was his due.

"Oh, right, I also need to go back to Varanasi city; a movie is going to be filmed here in Uttar Pradesh."

"Movie?" Ratan was a bit slow to react.

"That's right, a Bollywood movie, I invested in it."

"Bollywood?!" Ratan shouted out loud.

"It's just a small-budget movie..." Ron tried to explain.

But Ratan had already rushed out excitedly, shouting about Ron making a movie.

So the entire family was startled again, and everyone sat in the living room as if holding a meeting to decide the family's fate.

"Will you act in the movie?"

"Will the movie be filmed at the estate?"

"What do we need to arrange?"

Their questions came one after another, full of enthusiasm.

Clearly, when it came to movies, they were more interested than inquiring about Ron's factory.

That was Bollywood, a place everyone in India yearned for.

People in the countryside might not have seen television or used air conditioning, but they had definitely seen Bollywood movies.

Every city had at least a few cinemas, and every village also had its own small theater.

Yes, no matter how poor the village was, there would definitely be a small screen where movies could be shown.

The total number of cinema screens in India was close to twelve thousand in 1993; the enthusiasm of Indians for movies was unimaginable to outsiders.

Ron answered their questions one by one, then said he needed to find a Durga temple and arrange for people to protect the film crew's safety.

"Leave all this to me," Ratan volunteered, "I'll stay with you until the movie filming is finished."

Elder Uncle Prakash also nodded in agreement, "Ratan knows people in the city."

"Won't this affect your job? The movie will be filmed for a month and a half," Ron reminded him.

"I don't need to go to the telecom company," Ratan shook his head easily, "I attend less than ten days a year."

Ratan was a full-time employee of the Indian Telecom Company, a proper state-owned enterprise with the same benefits as civil servants.

As a Brahmin, with a little connection, he could enter the government public sector that countless people dreamed of.

Besides a high salary of six thousand Rupees, there were many non-cash benefits.

For example, free or low-cost housing in the city, free household electricity, and free phone calls.

By the standards of other villagers, this was already a huge income, but it was not enough to maintain the family's luxurious lifestyle.

Needless to say, it was thanks to the hemp; this was Ratan's side business.

As for the official telecom department job, have you ever seen how many Brahmins happily go to work every day?

Holding a position and getting paid, being a lord at home is the correct way for Brahmins to live.

No, in Uttar Pradesh, Brahmins who abide by the rules like this are even considered a bit shameful.

Ratan's real job was extorting telecom users, and all routine technical maintenance was outsourced to contractors.

When users installed telephones, he would deliberately make things difficult until the other party gave him a tip.

After taking the money, his price was still unambiguous, and the cost would often be significantly higher.

He would also register incomplete bills and secretly swap things around.

After all the fees were paid, he would then instruct workers to tamper with the phone lines during installation, causing the user's phone to have problems every few days.

At this time, the user had to call the telecom bureau, wait for the maintenance personnel to come, give another tip, say nice things... and so on and so forth.

For Ratan, a bad telecom network was the best telecom network; with repair requests, there was a constant stream of bribes.

Sometimes, to make extra money, he would even cut off someone's phone line for no reason.

Over time, as long as they could afford it, most families preferred to spend money to install two phone lines because they had to ensure at least one could remain operational.

For Ratan, work didn't matter; movies were the truth.

With the family being so enthusiastic, what could Ron say? Of course, he enjoyed the convenience brought by this privilege.

He was going to Varanasi city to see how Shiv and the others were preparing.