I'm a Master in India

"Roan! Your factory! Do you know?" Uncle Prakash stammered, looking agitated.

"What about my factory?" Roan asked, surprised.

"Your factory is on TV!" Ratan shouted.

"Ah... yes, indeed," Roan didn't know what to say.

"Sur Electrical, that name is great! I recognized it at a glance last night!" The pride on Prakash's face was comparable to the expression he had when his son Ratan got married.

Their family's new TV had just arrived yesterday.

The only all-India TV station meant you didn't have to worry about which channel to watch.

Then, around eight in the evening, the Sur Electrical advertisement played on time.

Ratan's family watched with great interest, even joking that they thought "Sur" was a coincidence.

It wasn't until they saw the evaporative cooler that Ratan realized Roan had mentioned it to him before.

So, early this morning, the father and son rushed to the city to find Roan, even turning down a marijuana deal for it.

But by then, Roan had already brought people here, and after searching for most of the day, they finally found the filming location.

"Oh my god, Roan, you've succeeded! Your father would be proud of you."

For a rural landlord like Prakash, being on TV was a great honor.

"Sur Electrical has just been established, it's not a big company yet," Roan said modestly.

"When you go back to Mumbai, take Ratan with you and let him help you," Prakash immediately decided.

"What?" Roan was stunned.

"You need help. To do things in India, the whole family must work together."

Ratan did not object to Prakash's suggestion; he thought it was natural.

When one person succeeds, the whole family benefits.

That's how it is in India; if someone becomes prosperous, they have an obligation to help their family live a good life.

Roan's factory being on TV clearly meant he had already "succeeded."

Ratan instantly gave up trying to convince Roan to grow marijuana at home with him and instead quickly prepared to go to Mumbai to help him manage the factory.

Roan was quite taken aback by their decision; it was so hasty it felt like playing house.

"Okay, I do need help, but not in Mumbai. Remember I mentioned a branch factory?"

"You want land, right? No problem, wherever you like, I'll go and sort it out," Prakash said, taking full responsibility.

"Let's talk about this in a couple of days. I need to get things sorted here at the set first."

"Alright, I'll call Aditya and the others then to see how they can help."

Ratan and his father came excitedly and left just as excitedly.

They were very excited. The Sur family had been quiet in the countryside for so many years, and it seemed a golden phoenix was finally about to fly out.

They would spare no effort to help Roan reach a higher position, so that the entire family would benefit.

Roan sighed as he watched their retreating figures. This clan system in India was even more outrageous than in China.

When helping you, everyone gives their best.

Similarly, if you live a good life, you cannot be ungrateful.

You can't even refuse this enthusiasm, because the values of the entire society recognize this bond.

If you refuse or ignore your family, it will easily earn you a bad reputation.

Fortunately, Roan was planning to open a branch factory in Uttar Pradesh, which indeed required support from his hometown people.

He couldn't handle many things by himself.

However, before these matters, there was another, more important thing to do.

His parents' ashes should return to the embrace of the Ganges.

This was a troublesome matter, even more troublesome than he had thought.

According to Hindu tradition, after a loved one dies, male family members carry the body to the Ganges for cremation, so that the soul can ascend to the Pure Land.

Roan's parents only had ashes left, so the cremation step could be skipped.

But under the family's arrangement, there was still an extremely ornate wicker bed used to hold the ashes.

Roan and Ratan carried the front, and a few uncles carried the back.

The wicker bed was wrapped in gorgeous male and female clothing and covered with rose petals and jasmine garlands.

Several aunts clapped their hands as they walked, chanting, "Great God Shiva, your name is the only truth!"

They walked past one temple after another, worshipped one deity after another, and stayed the longest at the temple of the sun god, Surya.

They walked through the alleys between temples and shops, and before they even saw the Ganges, Roan smelled the scent of decaying bodies coming from the river.

He raised his voice, "...the only truth!", and then was choked and couldn't speak.

From the bank of the Ganges came the sound of chopping wood.

A wooden platform was already set up on the cremation stone platform by the river, piled high with logs, and several people were chopping wood with axes.

The cremation stone platforms extended into the river, piled high with pyres for cremation.

When they arrived, four bodies were being cremated on the steps.

The Sur family were Brahmins, so of course they didn't need to queue; they had already arranged for the largest and most impressive stone platform by the river.

A specially hired Brahmin priest was waiting for them.

After a long prayer, Roan began to scatter the ashes into the Ganges under the guidance of the priest.

A small white island in the middle of the river sparkled in the sunlight.

Groups of small boats filled with tourists rowed towards the island; it was an excellent spot for photographing the Ganges scenery.

Tourists from all over the world flocked here; they had long heard of the holy city's fame and had been curious about the Ganges cremation for a long time.

Photography was prohibited at the cremation, but these tourists didn't understand the rules and kept clicking their cameras.

The Sur family's servants were already stationed at various points.

They immediately stepped forward and demanded that the photos be deleted.

Some foreigners wanted to argue a few words, but after seeing various Nepalese curved knives, they all obediently handed over their film.

Only after asking around did they learn that a wealthy local family was performing a water burial.

They might have silently scoffed or ridiculed, but seeing the dense crowd of servants nearby, they wisely kept their mouths shut.

Uttar Pradesh was not Mumbai, especially the Varanasi area, which was known as the "Wild East."

Outside the cities, the land here was stained with blood.

Roan didn't pay attention to these things; his gaze was drawn to the stone platform next to him.

It was also piled high with logs for cremation, and the river water constantly washed the bank.

There was a large mound of black earth there, sprinkled with jasmine, rose petals, silk scraps, and charred bones.

A Shar Pei dog sniffed around among the petals, cloth strips, and bones, constantly digging and searching for food.

Well, Roan suddenly felt fortunate that only his parents' ashes remained.

Holy river or not, he really couldn't accept this strange cremation method.

"Praise to Durga" had already begun filming.

Director Shiv first filmed the scenery, then the people.

In his words, this made it easier for the crew to get into the swing of things; a team of over forty people also needed time to gel.

But Mary and the others were first-time producers, and they were somewhat lacking in experience; they hadn't hired enough people.

Director Shiv wanted to make a thirteen-meter-high statue of Durga, to be featured frequently in the movie.

Most of the crew went to help, and finally, the male lead, Lanka, personally took charge of the production affairs, holding the clapperboard to mark the scenes.

"Why make such a large statue?" Roan asked, puzzled.

"Because the movie will first be shown in rural areas, and it's essential to heavily promote the new goddess statue," Shiv was well aware of this.

Since it was a religious movie, it naturally had to focus on religion.

If you wanted to get people in rural India into movie theaters, you had to put more things they were interested in into the movie.

"That must cost a lot of money, right?" Roan couldn't help but exclaim as he watched the busy crowd.

Although the new statue was made of plaster, the materials were still an expense, not to mention hiring craftsmen from the nearby market to help.

"It won't cost much," Shiv shook his head proudly.

"Those craftsmen are all devotees of Durga and don't want payment.

After the movie is finished, the statue will be donated to the temple, and the priest has already promised us not to charge any location fees."

Look, this is a qualified low-budget film director.

Roan really liked Shiv's awareness of saving money.

In fact, not only Shiv, but even the local producer went to extremes when it came to saving money.

The movie was about a vegetarian goddess, and the cast and crew ate only vegetables.

Every day, the crew's menu consisted only of potatoes, eaten at every meal; even the yogurt had potatoes in it.

Lanka, who was already sick of it, had tried various methods, both direct and indirect, even composing satirical doggerel, but the producer only blamed him for being full of complaints.

Some of the camera crew were seasoned veterans of film sets and had no shame in scrambling for food.

In Lanka's words, "They swarmed forward, grabbing four or five flatbreads each, and then scooped up all the meager vegetables, taking their plates and hiding to the side.

We had no choice but to wait empty-handed at the back of the line, to see if any extra dishes would be brought out."

The result was, of course, none.

The thick-skinned Indian locals would never wait foolishly in line like the rich kid Lanka.

Mary couldn't stand it anymore and was about to improve the crew's meals, but Roan stopped her.

He said the budget was three million, and it should stay three million; they couldn't spoil their appetites.

Otherwise, if they invested again in the future, they would surely be treated as fat sheep to be slaughtered.

While the filming was still going on here, the costume designer caused another problem.

"What happened?" Roan asked the producer.

"We don't have enough costumes; we need to change the look for the next scene."

"Why weren't they prepared in advance?"

"Not enough budget," the producer said, shrugging.

"Remember the guesthouse you're staying at?" Roan had a sudden idea.

"What?" The producer was confused.

"When I came, I saw that there's a clothing and accessories exhibition happening nearby.

Send someone now to pick out suitable clothes and return them after filming."

The producer was stunned.

"What about the next few days?"

"Send different people each day; there are plenty of people in the crew anyway."

There are always more solutions than problems.

With a change of mindset, this small matter wasn't a problem at all.

Five minutes later, the producer and a few people took the bus to the city center.

To facilitate daily filming, the crew had also rented an old bus.

300 rupees a day was very cost-effective; besides not being fast, it could easily carry forty or fifty people.

"Urmila, let's go eat Indian biryani tonight," Roan quietly went to find the female lead.

Urmila really wanted to refuse, but her stomach rumbled uncontrollably.

Eating potatoes every day, she was also tired of it.