I'm a Master in India

Before entering, Ron had imagined what a slum house would be like.

But when he truly faced it, he was still quite shocked, his face even stiffening with surprise.

Anand's home was just one room, and standing at the door, one could see their entire life.

The square room was about two or three meters wide, with a bed placed diagonally across from the entrance.

It couldn't really be called a bed; at best, it was a net woven from ropes on a wooden frame, the holes large and sparse.

The foot of the bed was where they hung clothes, a rope stretched diagonally across two walls, with both dry and wet clothes on it, also serving as a wardrobe.

Opposite the bed was a stove made of stones, with some bottles and jars beside it, as well as cow dung fuel.

In the corner of the room to the left of the entrance was a mat made of straw.

This was Anand's home, completely visible at a glance.

If it were just him alone, Ron wouldn't have been too surprised.

But this room, less than ten square meters, was also crammed with ten people, big and small.

Anand's wife saw Ron at the door, smiled at him in a friendly and shy manner, then nervously tightened her grip on the baby in her arms.

The other eight children, the oldest twelve or thirteen, the youngest crawling around on the ground, all stared at Ron with wide, flickering eyes, curious and fearful.

When he met their bright and innocent eyes, Ron suddenly felt a little ashamed; he shouldn't have come empty-handed.

There was a market downstairs from his apartment; buying some sweets wouldn't have left him so helpless in the face of the children's longing gazes.

"Jamal, Tilaka, take your brothers and sisters outside to play," Anand waved his hand as if it were a common occurrence.

With a whoosh, the children in their tattered clothes chattered and left the house.

Once outside, they seemed to come alive, excitedly discussing how clean and beautiful the clothes of the guest were.

Anand's wife, wrapped in a yellow-brown sari, held the baby in one arm and poured tea for Ron with the other.

"Anand, I didn't expect you to have so many family members."

Even now, Ron found it hard to imagine how a family of more than ten people could squeeze into this small room like sardines.

Faced with his polite greeting, Anand laughed heartily.

"Ron, people are wealth. Jamal and the others can help with work at five years old, and now they can all support themselves."

Rarely, Anand believed that raising children didn't require spending money, and the more children, the more helpful to the family.

"How old are you this year?"

"Uh, 19."

"Ah ha, you look like a virgin. Freda and I had our first child when we were 15."

Anand patted his belly proudly, and his wife, Freda, giggled beside him.

It seemed that in their eyes, not having slept with a woman at nineteen was a pitiful thing.

Ron shrugged and then gave him a thumbs up.

Another burst of laughter came, and the restraint and faint estrangement in the room quickly disappeared.

A good-natured joke brought them closer.

"Freda, go outside and see what the children are doing, don't let them damage my rickshaw."

Anand sent his wife away on a pretext, and when only the two of them were left in the room, the atmosphere became quiet again.

"This is today's bill. That fat sheep spent a total of 23,000 rupees in the Colaba market, a truly frightening number!"

Ron had also made a rough record of how much Smith had spent today. He glanced at it and knew it was about right.

"He earns in pounds, and 1 pound can be exchanged for 36 rupees. This little money is nothing to him."

"That's right! We should have fleeced him even harder!"

Anand puffed out his round eyes, vigorously urging. Such a fat sheep wasn't likely to be encountered more than once a year, so letting it go was too wasteful.

"We'll talk about that later, where's my money?" Ron hadn't forgotten the purpose of his visit.

"Uh, Ron. I pulled you around all day today, and also helped you negotiate the commission with those troublesome ghosts, you see\t"

Faced with Anand's pitiful round face, Ron remained unmoved, he just continued to rub his fingers together without speaking.

"Okay, okay."

Anand muttered and took out a paper packet from his waist.

Ron impolitely took it and counted it, 4600 rupees, denominations ranging from 5 rupees to 500 rupees.

Most of them were small denominations of 20 and 50 rupees, a large handful, making one feel secure.

"Happy cooperation, Anand." Ron was very satisfied that the other party hadn't played any tricks.

It was getting late, and the evenings in Mumbai were very unsafe; Nya was still waiting for him at home.

"Wait, Ron, we need to discuss tomorrow's matter."

"What?"

"I mean the issue of the commission, you took 20%. I ran around negotiating, I should also get a little, right?"

Ron stopped and stared at him with a smile, without speaking.

"Wha... what's wrong?" Anand shrank his neck.

"What commission did you negotiate with them in the Colaba market?"

"Of course it's 20%."

"Was there 30%?"

"No! Absolutely not!"

Anand shook his head like a rattle drum.

"28%?"

"OK, OK, we won't talk about the commission anymore! You go home quickly!"

Ron smiled, turned around, and came to the door, where more than a dozen pairs of large, bright eyes were staring at him.

He paused, then turned back, "Anand, you take me back."

"Holy one above, we only live a kilometer apart. Are you, like that day, unable to find your way home again?"

Anand cursed and came out of the house, waved away the naughty children, and pushed the rickshaw forward.

Ron followed him, took two quick steps, and then climbed onto the back seat with peace of mind.

"Anand, are there many tourists coming to Mumbai?"

"Of course, this is Mumbai, famous all over the world!"

"That is to say, being a guide can become a business?"

"Yes! I'm doing this business now!" Anand said loudly from the front.

"No, I'm not talking about one person's business, but treating it as a career."

"That's right! Being a rickshaw puller and a guide is my lifelong career!"

Ron, sitting in the back, almost laughed out of anger.

"I've decided, Anand, I want to do this career."

"You also want to pedal the rickshaw like me?" Anand turned his head in surprise.

"I'm a Brahmin master, of course I want to do a big career!" Ron waved his hand heroically, too lazy to explain the difference.

"Ha, well, before that, learn to recognize the road first."

Anand stopped the rickshaw; they had arrived.

Near dusk, the market here hadn't closed yet. The noisy sounds and lights made the streets even more lively.

"You wait for me for a while," Ron jumped off the rickshaw and quickly disappeared into the crowd.

A few minutes later, he came back with a few paper bags.

"There are fried cakes, crispy balls, masala dosa, and a curry chicken inside, take them back for the children to eat."

Anand, who was originally a little impatient, instantly widened his eyes, his mouth agape, frozen in mid-air.

"Ro-Ron, I'm just a Dalit, and you... you..."

"Okay, remember to pick me up tomorrow morning." Ron waved his hand, his figure disappearing into the alley.

He didn't seem to realize how shocking what he had done was; a Brahmin, a Dalit.

The gap between these two was so vast that even the Indian constitution couldn't fill it, but he had lightly crossed it.

He also never imagined how much today's casual action had touched Anand.