I'm a Master in India

Whether riding or driving, Ron never exceeded 50 yards per hour in Mumbai.

Because there were so many people, you couldn't drive fast; you couldn't even speed if you wanted to.

But on the dirt roads of Varanasi, the driver could actually get the car up to eighty or ninety yards per hour.

Due to the narrow roads, one side of the road overlooked a steep slope, while the other side often had rows of people and livestock walking along it.

Ron's bulky bus was huge and shaky, and the driver took every turn sharply and quickly, completely disregarding their lives.

Mary held onto Ron's arm tightly the whole way, her body tense, not daring to relax for a moment.

"Who is this white person?" The driver even had time to chat with Ron.

"She is my master's girlfriend," Anil answered quickly, trying to appear nonchalant to hide his pride, but ultimately failing.

White people were already rare, and ordinary Indians had a sense of awe towards foreigners, let alone a white girl and an Indian man becoming a couple.

This was enough to cause a sensation throughout Varanasi and be the talk of the town for a whole year.

"Wow! Girlfriend, you found a white girl to be your girlfriend?" The driver and the entire peanut gallery in the car looked at Ron in surprise.

"You could say that," he nodded.

"Where is she from?"

"Europe."

"Is Europe very rich?"

"Yes, most people there are richer than Indians."

"Does she speak Hindi?"

"Not very well."

"People from her country don't speak Hindi?"

"That's right."

"Don't speak Hindi, and don't speak Urdu?"

"They only speak English."

"Oh my god, poor fool."

Mary couldn't hold back, she pinched Ron's hand, quietly applying pressure.

"She is very tall, taller than Indian women."

"Yes," Ron smiled and nodded.

"Don't let her go hungry, give her lots of milk to drink."

"Okay."

"Milk."

"Yes," Ron answered patiently.

When the driver spoke to him, he deliberately raised his voice to make sure everyone in the car could hear.

Not only that, he also wanted to share this news with passersby.

Whenever someone walked outside the window, the driver would honk the horn to attract their attention and gesture with his thumb, indicating there was a foreigner in the car.

"A foreign girl has found one of our Indian men as her boyfriend."

He slowed the car to a crawl, allowing every pedestrian to get a good look.

This kind of novel experience wasn't common and was enough for him to show off for two or three months.

What should have been a fifteen-minute journey was dragged out to an hour by him.

Ron and the others got off the bus, and the back of the bus had "Bus strictly limited to forty-eight people" written in large red Hindi.

But in reality, there were seventy people crammed into the car just now, plus two or three tons of goods, but no one cared.

The bus accelerated away with a groan, leaving the few of them in the boundless silence, a silence so profound that the breeze brushing past their ears was like the whisper of a sleeping child.

"Let's go," Ron led the way. Neither he nor Anil were strangers to the surroundings.

It was only a few kilometers from the city center, still considered the suburbs, and it was also on the way to their own village.

Unfortunately, despite being so close to the city, there were still not many people around.

On both sides of the dirt road were endless fields of sugarcane and millet, all growing taller than a person, looking like a maze of thick walls from a distance.

"I haven't seen a scene like this in a long time; it reminds me of my childhood."

Shiv was also a rural boy from Bihar, right next door to Uttar Pradesh, and the scene in front of him reminded him of his hometown.

"There aren't many telephone poles here," Mary turned around. The sparse wires were ridiculously shabby compared to the spiderwebs in the city.

"Rural people rarely need electricity unless a large family pays for it themselves."

Well, the Sur family was one of them.

The Durga Temple they were going to was a tourist attraction. According to Ratan, it usually had a lot of worshippers.

As they approached, some cow-herding children came forward shyly.

Anil gave him a piece of candy and chattered for a while, and then he found out the recent situation of the Durga Temple. There weren't many people there today.

When they passed the entrance of a village, a huge advertisement on a mud wall attracted everyone's attention.

It was a paint drawing with "Two is Good" written in red letters on a yellow background, and below the red letters was a simple drawing of a family of four.

This was an Indian family planning advertisement, which initially said, "Don't have any more, not more than three."

Later, another layer was painted over it, "We two people, two children too."

The latest drawing was two leaves and a flower, symbolizing having only one child.

The old and new advertisements were layered on top of each other, and the number of children promoted was gradually decreasing.

It is said that Mrs. Gandhi once forcibly sterilized eight million Indian men, which resulted in riots, and then the policy was hastily withdrawn a year later.

It was almost impossible to get Indians not to have children.

The Durga Temple next to the village was weathered, but the sculptures here were grand and ancient, with a unique grandeur.

Shiv was very excited; he was also a devotee of Durga. After a few words with the temple priest, he almost immediately decided on this place as the filming location.

"Do you know what's best?" he chattered. "There are also tourist guesthouses nearby, which can be used as our filming location for the rural scenes."

"No problem, I'll contact the guesthouse." Ron could easily handle this kind of thing.

His local Brahmin identity could sweep away all obstacles.

"We'll start tomorrow," the director Shiv made the decision immediately.

He didn't even wait until tomorrow. In the afternoon, he ordered the crew to set up the scene, arrange the scenes, schedule, and so on.

Ron, on the other hand, took Anil to find the owner of the guesthouse here.

After all, it was a tourist attraction, very close to the city, and there was also a handicrafts market nearby.

The Durga Temple here always welcomed tourists who came because of its reputation.

Therefore, it was not surprising that there were guesthouses like this. The owner had electricity installed, a phone in every room, and various common appliances.

Not bad, Ron finally felt a sense of modernity, and the room layout was also quite characteristic of rural India.

Only by chatting with the owner did he learn that the guesthouses here were originally intended to attract foreigners from the city center.

Perhaps they would be curious about rural India and come specifically to experience it.

As a result, most of the people who actually patronized this place were from big cities in South India.

Every time there was a special Hindu holy day, millions of people would come to worship by the Ganges River.

Hotels and guesthouses in the city center would be fully booked, so later arrivals would spread to the surrounding guesthouses.

"I don't have much business here normally, but when it's a festival, it's packed," the guesthouse owner talked volubly.

His three daughters kept staring at Ron, secretly wondering why they had never heard of such a handsome young man nearby, since he had a local accent.

"We want to borrow your guesthouse to shoot a movie, for about twenty days," Ron stated his purpose.

"No problem," the owner agreed without hesitation after learning his surname, "as long as you give me a shot in the movie."

"No problem," Ron could make the decision on this kind of thing himself.

A significant part of the story of "Praise to Durga" takes place in the countryside, so the crew would stay here for a long time.

Ron would help them with the preliminary preparations, and when the movie officially started shooting, he could free up his hands to work on other things.

The actors were already arriving at the set one after another. Urmila had recovered well, thanks to Ron's miraculous healing hands.

Other supporting actors had already transformed into production assistants, some helping to carry equipment, some climbing up and down to set up lights, some cleaning...

That's how it is with low-budget movie crews; there's a shortage of hands, and everyone wears multiple hats.

Lanka, who was usually diligent, was now pestering the producer.

His sleep experience last night was hard to describe. Not to mention the mosquitoes, his roommate was an old heavy smoker and snored like thunder when he slept.

Lanka had barely slept all night. He demanded that the producer change his room. To increase his persuasiveness, the guy even took out his Walkman and recorded his roommate's snoring.

Ron couldn't help but laugh when he heard it and waved his hand for the producer to change his room.

"I heard your parents are transferring their business in Dubai and returning to Jaipur?" Ron had already learned about Lanka's background.

"Mr. Sur, you know, business in the Persian Gulf is not easy to do now."

The Gulf conflict had shattered the economic momentum in the Persian Gulf region, and Lanka's family business was also affected. His mother was preparing to sell her jewelry and return to her hometown of Jaipur to buy property.

"How long have you been there, and do you know Dubai well?"

"Of course, my parents' business has been going on for many years," Lanka patted his chest and guaranteed.

"Then do you know Dawood?"

"Oh! Mr. Sur, you know him?" Lanka was a little surprised.

"No, I have a travel agency in Dubai, and I just want to understand the situation there. You know, these gangs often like to target Indian businessmen."

"You can rest assured, Dawood is very rich, but he can only hide in his apartment in Dubai and dare not come out. Dubai is not Mumbai; when gangs get there, they have to behave themselves."

This was one of the reasons Lanka liked Dubai; the security there was many times better than in Mumbai. Drivers drove properly and never honked their horns constantly like Indian drivers.

The gang boss who had escaped from Mumbai had long since lost his glory and was completely a stray dog.

After listening to Lanka's explanation, Ron had a rough idea in his mind. It seemed he had been a little too cautious before.

"Are your parents still urging you to go back and inherit the business?"

Lanka laughed heartily. He took out a set photo and showed it to Ron, saying that his parents had asked him to send it back.

"They used to only pray to the gods: Let my son change his mind soon and come home. Now they can't wait to tell everyone that I'm the male lead."

Ron smiled knowingly. Parents all over the world are probably the same.

Everyone in the crew was busy, only Ron was idle.

"Mila, how are you feeling today?" He sidled up to the lead actress again.

His intimate address made Urmila very embarrassed, but she was thin-skinned and didn't want to remind him.

"Much better, Dr. Sur's medicine is very effective."

"What should you call me?"

"Ro...Ron Baba..."

Ah, that's the taste. The old pervert enjoyed being called that immensely.

He was about to tease her a few more times when Ratan suddenly walked over with his uncle Prakash, looking excited.